Getting no response, I walked into the living room where Jacob was standing with the TV remote in his hand watching CNN.
“Happy anniversary,” I said.
“Sorry, happy anniversary,” he replied, giving me a peck on the cheek but immediately returning his attention to his other wife, Anderson Cooper.
“Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. I hope you are hungry. I bought these amazing steaks.”
Talking to Jacob was like talking to an empty room as there was no response. But animals are distracted when they smell and see food, and Jacob found his way to the table.
“I was watching Ina Garten,” I said, trying again for conversation.
“Who?” Jacob asked, getting up to open the refrigerator door.
“You know. The Barefoot Contessa. On the Food Network.”
“Oh yeah, that big fat lady with the gray hair. She puts butter on everything.”
“No, that’s Paula Dean. And she’s not fat. She’s beautiful.”
“All right. Then I don’t know who you are talking about.”
“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, I marinated the steak in a ginger sauce.”
Jacob ignored what I said as he found the ketchup bottle on the door shelf.
“The bottle’s almost empty,” he demonstrated turning the bottle up and down.
“Yeah, but I don’t think you will need it,” I said pointing out to Jacob the perfect grill marks.
Not impressed, Jacob sat back down holding his almost empty bottle of ketchup and squeezed out a few drops of the red condiment over his steak while I poured myself a glass of wine. Without commenting on the taste, he stabbed the steak and cut a large slice which then found the opening of his mouth as he scrolled through his messages on his Blackberry with his other paw.
“Why don’t you put that away and talk to me?” I asked, searching for conversation. But the only sounds heard during dinner were the buzzing of the refrigerator and the clock ticking on the wall.
Finally, as I began to clear the dishes from the table, my prince uttered his first words of dinner conversation.
“That was good.”
“Really?” I reacted, surprised to hear a compliment, no matter how slight, roll off Jacob’s lips.
“Really good. And I like you, too.” And out of character, Jacob got up and grabbed my belly with his hand.
“What are you doing?” I asked, pulling his hand away as I moved the plates from the table to the sink.
“It is our anniversary, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“And I was just checking to see if there was an anniversary present in there.”
“What? What do you mean?” I asked moving his hand away again.
“I wanted to see if there is a baby in there.”
“What, I would tell you if there was.” I said, annoyed. “And we are not even trying.”
“Well, I don’t know.”
I looked confused and wished he was not in the room.
“We have been married for six months and people are starting to talk.”
“People. What people?”
“Mrs. Nadel.”
“She should worry about herself. Besides, we had this conversation before. Most couples wait a few years before they start having a family. It is called the honeymoon phase of the marriage. Something you don’t know anything about.”
“So that’s what you are mad about?”
“Whatever,” I said, borrowing my dad’s favorite phrase as I started to load the dishwasher.
“Well, I just need to get things settled at work. And I may be in line for a promotion. Then we can plan to go to somewhere.”
I did not respond but started to clear the dishes from the table.
“We should go away. Maybe Miami? Anyway, our honeymoon was too short. Miami is nice and warm and we can get away from this cold,” Jacob said as he grabbed the box of chocolate chip cookies that was on the counter and shoved one into his mouth.
“I don’t know. Sounds nice.”
“We can swim, sightsee. Go to some good restaurants.”
“What a joke,” I snapped back. “We don’t go to restaurants here. Within two square miles of where we live, we have some of the most diverse restaurants. But how would you know.”
“Yeah, but when you’re away, you don’t have the pressures. Besides, we can splurge a little,” Jacob said as he put his arms around me and kissed me on the neck before returning to the box of cookies.
I was surprised and confused by Jacob’s attempt at being romantic.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
I started to load the dishwasher as Jacob shoved two more cookies into his mouth. “Well I have a few days off in the middle of March, so maybe.”
“You are.”
“What? I can’t understand you. Your mouth is full. Chew and swallow. It’s like I am talking to a baby.”
Jacob cleared his throat.
“I said you seem quiet tonight.”
“No, just tired. I have a big case coming up and I haven’t had the time I need to prepare,” I replied.
“Bigger than me?” Jacob grabbed my butt and grinded his groin into my side.
“You’re disgusting.”
“Maybe I am. But you should take a break from work. Maybe it is too stressful.”
Outraged and insulted, I shut off the water in the sink and turned to face him. “Well, you don’t take a break from a job. And I love my work,” I answered very sternly as I returned to loading the dishes.
“Fine, fine, I married a modern woman,” Jacob responded, licking the fudge from the cookie that was on his finger. “But that doesn’t leave a lot of time to raise a family.”
I turned again to Jacob. “You talk about a family. How about making me feel like I want to have a family?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well. Did you send me flowers, or even a card? Or did you even think about it? I would have even been happy with a text message from you. And if I didn’t say something, would you have even remembered? And do you ever make me feel romantic? Do you ever do anything special that shows that you care and look at me as something other than your cook, your maid and your future baby oven?” I slammed the dishwasher door closed and turn on the dial. “And haven’t you had enough cookies?” I asked pulling the box from his hand.”
The phone rang and I picked up.
“Hi Nana. Ok, don’t worry. I will go to Walgreens and pick it up for you. I can bring it on Friday.”
As I talked, I was hoping that Jacob would rejoin Anderson Cooper. But instead he decided that the refrigerator needed support and positioned his back against the door, grabbed the cookie box from my other hand, munching away as I spoke.
“I love you too,” I said to Nana. “Goodnight.”
“Nana says hello.”
“How is she?”
“She sounds fine. She was tired and was going to bed.”
“Well maybe we should take a hint from Nana.”
I ignored this last remark. “I don’t want to talk anymore tonight. You have ruined whatever small moment there was. I think I am going to do some reading and try to get ahead, so happy anniversary,” I said. As I walked passed Jacob he grabbed my arm.
“What are you doing? You’re hurting me,” I cried.
Jacob looked at me stone cold.
“Let go.”
“I want a baby,” he said.
“You are crazy. How can we have a baby if we don’t have a marriage?”
“Who are you listening to? Those stupid talk shows?”
“Take your hand off me. You are hurting me.” In response, Jacob tightened his grip. “Jacob, you use me. You don’t love me. I am just an outlet for your needs. And you want to turn me into a baby maker so I can pump out little Jacobs. Then you will proudly show off your litter of children.”
“How dare you,” Jacob shouted, pointing his finger in my face. As he spoke, I saw a fire in his eyes that I h
ad never seen before.
“Move away, you’re scaring me.”
Jacob did not move.
“I am tired.” I walked into the bedroom but Jacob followed me.
“What?” I asked, turning around.
“I want a baby,” he said in a low voice.
“A baby,” I laughed. “When you are not belching or farting and during the little time that we ever have any conversation, all you are consumed with is having children. Well this oven is not accepting. And I suggest that if you are that horny, then go in the bathroom and jerk off. Just don’t get near me,” I said as I opened the bathroom door. But before I could step in, Jacob pulled me by my hair and threw me onto the bed, holding me down by pressing his hands against my shoulders.
“Get off me. Get off me,” I pleaded but Jacob did not respond, just staring at me with the eyes of the devil.
“You are really scaring me,” I said but Jacob did not move. “Please get off me.”
With that, Jacob shot me that famous shit-eating grin of his and patted my tummy with his sticky cookie fingers.
“You’re going to get so fat and ugly when you get pregnant. And that’s going to start tonight,” he said as he pulled down my gray sweats below my knees. Keeping his right hand against my shoulder, he moved his left hand over my panties.
“Oh, you’re getting ready for me. You want it so bad,” he said as he ran his index finger inside the top of my panties.
“You are disgusting,” I said, pushing my fist into his upper body and causing him to roll off me.
For a fleeting moment, the room felt still as I kept my eyes shut, praying that he would leave me alone. But I was wrong.
“Tell me how bad you want me,” he shouted, standing at the side of the bed.
“I don’t want you. I want you to leave,” I pleaded.
“No way Danielle, the mother of my baby.” With that, he yanked off my sweats and underwear.
“Look at you. Naked. And you’re mine,” he said as he dropped his pants, exposing his erection. “Tell me you want me,” he bragged as he parted my legs and climbed on top of me.
“I don’t.”
“Tell me you want me,” he answered back.
I tried closing my eyes. But he stared at me; those flickering coal dark eyes taunted me and I felt my heart miss a beat.
“I don’t,” I shouted as I felt him try to push inside me but I was very dry. It was a deep soreness that only intensified as he tried again to drive in further. “It hurts. I am not ready,” I yelled as he continued pushing and pulling and making deep heavy grunts while holding on to me. Finally, he reached into the night stand and grabbed the tube of KY Jelly.
“You know a young wife should always be ready for her husband,” he said as poured the lubricant onto his middle and index finger and then shoved them up inside me, working them in and out like a mechanic working on a car.
“Now you are ready,” he smiled as he glided inside me. “Do you like that?”
“Please Jacob. Please. Put something on. We’re not ready for a baby.”
It was clear that Jacob had no intention of using a condom tonight. Ignoring my request, he pushed again. This time he rested inside me as I grabbed with my right hand the piping on the mattress and held it tight as I anticipated his next thrust.
“Does that feel good?” He slowly pulled out and then thrust harder pounding his fat belly against me and again pausing.
“Please stop,” I cried.
With each thrust, he delayed the ending by stopping again as if this was his sick way of torturing me. I wanted this to be a nightmare so I could wake up. But it was no nightmare and each further thrust was accompanied by another ugly grunt that sounded as if it came from an animal.
“Now we are going to make a baby,” he proudly announced as he began to thrust in and out and in and out. I wanted to yell and scream but knew that my plea for help would go unanswered.
“We’re making a baby,” he shouted as his pace quickened. And as I felt my feet dangling over the edge of the mattress, I could see his blood pooling in what was the whites of his eyes.
Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika
I hummed. With each further thrust, my body seized while my heart froze.
Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika
“Come on, you want to cum, let me feel you cum,” he demanded.
Tumbalalaika, shpil balalaika
Finally, as if a gunshot exploded in the air, his body arched and he made the most disgusting sound before crashing back on top of me, leaving me bare of all normalcy and sanity.
Tumbalalaika freylekh zol zany
He rolled off me and I lay motionless but crying uncontrollably inside as a police car stormed past our building, sirens screeching. I wanted to jump from our bedroom window hoping the car would stop and help. But suddenly, as if someone had traded places with Jacob, a new voice had entered. It sounded calm and remorseful.
“I am sorry. I didn’t know,” Jacob said, placing a kiss on my forehead.
Jacob’s eyes were trained on the bed sheet that was loosely draped over my leg.
“What?” I asked again, staring into his eyes of fire.
“Your period.”
I opened my eyes and glanced down at the fresh red clot of blood that was on the sheet.
Disconnected, Jacob stepped away from the bed as if anticipating that I was going to slap him. I immediately felt nauseous and ran into the bathroom to put a cold wash cloth on my face. Sitting on the toilet with the seat cover down, I quietly cried, trying to catch my breath between each heavy sigh. Finally, I had to remove the taste of Jacob from my body and turned on the shower. When I came out, Jacob was fast asleep on the mattress, having pulled off the stained sheet. I did not want to crawl under the sheets that smelled of lubricant and Jacob. So I grabbed a pillow and blanket from the closet and lay down in the guest bedroom. It was colder in that room, but at least I was alone. Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika, I hummed myself to sleep.
Rose’s Tenth Diary Entry
The next few nights I slept very poorly, always fearing that at any minute the basement door would swing open again. But by the fifth night, exhausted, I fell into a deep slumber. And I dreamed. I was sitting in the garden with my mother in our home. It was spring time and the smell of our sweet roses filled the air. My mother and I were laughing as I was telling her about this boy who liked me. But my mother said he was too short and he had big ears.
Suddenly, I heard the slamming of truck doors followed by shouting and screaming and I did not know if I was still dreaming. The door to the basement opened with a loud bang and the sound of heavy boots grew louder as I pulled the covers over my head fearing the worst.
“Raus, Raus,” the soldier shouted, pulling on the leash of his German shepherd whose nose was pressed against my face and only separated by the bed sheet.
“What is it? What is it?” I asked but the German did not answer me as the weight of the dog’s paws was pushed in the mattress.
I grabbed my sack that was on the window sill containing all my worldly belongings and picked up my shoes as the soldier pushed the barrel of his gun into my back.
“Schnell, Schnell,” he shouted in my ears.
As I walked up the steps, I looked for Irene but she was not there. So I ran down the hallway to her bedroom but was stopped by the soldier who grabbed the back of my neck and threw me to the floor. With his gun pointed at my head, I slowly rose to my feet, begging for my life.
The soldier pointed to the open front door where a truck was parked in the road. As I walked, praying I would not be shot, all I wondered was where was Irene?
“Erhalten Sie innen,” (Get in) another soldier ordered as I was lifted and pushed into the back of the truck. Crying in the dark corner was Irene. I tried to reach her outstretched arms but the soldier riding in the back pushed me away and spit into Irene’s face.
“Sie ist ein Judegeliebter,” (She is a Jew lover) he announced with a gun pointed a
t her head.
“Be brave,” Irene whispered, her lips quivering. But as I starred at her kind sweet face, I sensed how frightened she was.
As the truck started to move, the soldier lit up a cigarette and started a conversation with the driver. Irene determined it was safe now to talk to me. She said that someone saw her bringing food to the Jews in the infirmary and turned her in.
“Why did you do this?” I asked.
“Save a life, seed a generation,” she poetically replied with tears in her eyes.
A few minutes later, the truck came to a screeching stop. The soldier pulled back the tarp that had covered the back of the truck, and I recognized the large wooden doors to the camp.
“Erhalten Sie weg, erhalten Sie weg,” (Get off, get off) he shouted and I was dragged by my shoulder from the truck and pushed to the icy ground where another soldier’s gun was pointed at my face.
“Weg,” (Walk) he shouted.
I took a few steps toward the camp’s opening gates and turned around to see the truck pulling away with Irene in it. I never saw her again. But her last words stayed with me: “Save a life. Seed a generation.” Those words gave me the strength to stay alive.
Chapter Thirteen
Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika.
I could not fall asleep and kept humming the song as I tossed and turned, fearing that Jacob would awaken any second looking for me. As I lay in the spare bed wrapped in my afghan blanket trying to stay warm, I was scared and wanted to run. But I had nowhere to go.
Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika.
I must have dozed off for a few minutes but was awakened by the sound of snow plows working throughout the night trying to clear the roads for the morning traffic.
I checked the clock again; it was three in the morning and I had to pee. So I quietly got up and tiptoed into the bathroom without turning on the light. As I sat on the seat, I could hear Jacob snore and thought how pathetic it was that he was having a peaceful night’s sleep while I lay awake and tortured. I thought of harming him like that woman who cut off her husband’s penis. But could I really do it? What knife would I use? Would the police believe me? And what would my father say?
I didn’t flush and quietly lay back down on the bed. Tumbala, Tum-bala, Tumbalalaika I hummed as I gripped the blanket, tucking it under my chin and once again closing my eyes. Finally, I fell asleep.
Against My Will Page 10