I’m not in the basement…I’m half way under Boo’s bed…like I was trying to hide from something hideous. I don’t know how I go here. I slide out and sit up. Everything hurts…My body is telling me it cannot take this anymore. I stand up and everything shifts. I grab the dresser so I don’t fall. The babies are sleeping, making little snorting sounds. Poor babies…what do I have to do to make this go away…
As I walk to the bathroom, I feel his anger and hatred everywhere in my body. The mirror tells me this just isn’t right and I can see how it feels sad for me. I want to sink into a tub full of hot, hot water but I don’t want to wake everyone. After he’s gone…I wash my face. It’s too late for ice on my eyes and lip. Damn it…he always splits my lip in the same place. I strip down. I’m so cold…I run the water as hot as I can tolerate and with lots of soap, I wash his stink from between my legs. That’s never going to happen again either…I put on clean pajamas. I go into my secret stash and get some Tylenol. I take three.
As I stand in the kitchen, with nothing in particular going on in my battered mind, I hear him stirring and realize it’s time for him to get up. A smile paints my face…I will be the perfect wife…I start the morning ritual. I make coffee and toast. He walks right past me, to the bathroom, and right past me, on the way back. When I put his breakfast in front of him, he really sees me, my face, and actually looks horrified. He grabs my hand and my body gets so stiff, it makes him say “It’s ok…I won’t hurt you…” Too late for that…I can see he’s thinking the same thing.
“I’m sorry…” he whispers, like he’s afraid someone other than me will hear it. “Really sorry…” he says again. I stopped believing that lie a long time ago…He looks at his food a long time before he eats it. “I won’t do it again…” Yes you will, unless I stop you…“I don’t know what comes over me…and you saying things…” Ya I know, my fault…always my fault…I make his lunch, he gets ready and with one last pleading look, he leaves. I didn’t say one word to him the whole time.
The Tylenol kicks in and I get into a tub full of hot water. I hold perfectly still…floating away. I submerge myself over and over, letting the water soothe the pain, the hurt, the anger. I hear little whispers, then little feet. They head into the bathroom to pee and they’re surprised to see me in the tub. They giggle and say to each other “Mom in the tubby!” like it’s the most wondrous thing they’ve ever witnessed. My face is not bloody anymore but they can see the damage. “Dad push Linus, Dad push Mom too,” this baby says, smoothing my hair. The knife in my heart twists a little more. She now can equate Dad with pain, with hurt. My sadness is so enormous, so heavy…
We sit together at the big table and eat our cereal and chatter about things only babies can fully understand. As they add color to my grey life, I think of how I will be the perfect wife…all the while making plans to get out of here…
Next -> Fear of the Unknown
