An unpleasant dream wakes Jerry up from a short and tortured slumber with a start. Realizing that his sharp intake of air and sudden muscle spasm might have woken Shelly. He quickly worked to compose himself. His senses reach out to his environment to see that everything is all right, but mainly to make sure that he had not inadvertently woken his wife. He felt her warm body nestled against his own, her steady and relaxed breathing. Jerry was relieved that he had not disturbed her slumber.
Three A.M., an hour that Jerry had seen quite often. It would be a long time before morning was to rear its head. The morning did not seem much different from the day in Jerry’s mind. Both simply brought more pain and stress.
He had tried to tell her early on that it might be a good idea for them to sleep separately. There was not a night that Jerry could remember sleeping until his alarm went off. If he were not so insistent on punctuality he would not even have an alarm clock, but Jerry was a cautious man. He took pride in people being able to depend on him. Most who knew Jerry from his younger years would attribute his behavior to his hard childhood. Riddled with fits of depression, Jerry often felt that he needed someone he could trust to discuss whatever was on his mind. Few were up to the task, but those who were became very important to Jerry. He would do anything for them. Often he fantasized about being a bodyguard or a secret service agent saving the life of someone.
All that had changed though. Jerry had everything he needed: a good paying job, financial security, and, most importantly, love. Unconditional, never ending love. But his wife was more than that. She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman. She was self-conscious enough to know what she wanted and strong enough to get it. She was intelligent, but not too smart. Most men would describe her as not unattractive, but also, not drop dead gorgeous. To Jerry she was just perfect, but Jerry saw her in a different light. He saw her as a person and did not limit her beauty as was defined by her outer self. He saw her inner beauty of character. A person with integrity and well-defined morals, much like Jerry. Most of all, he saw her as a friend, a companion, and a partner. An equal.
He remembered her adamantly refusing to sleep in separate beds. Her own parents had done that and it truly bothered her to think that she and Jerry would start off on the wrong foot. She was actually quite hurt that he had even brought it up. She didn’t have to because Jerry could see it in her eyes. He often wondered what went on in her head and what her childhood was like. Every time he brought it up, she defensively changed the subject until it was not brought up at all. Her parents had married out of social obligation upon finding out that they were pregnant. They quickly got hitched lest they be shunned from their church by gossips and evil eyes. They separated four years later.
“A couple that loves each other will share everything, even the bad,” he remembered her saying. Though he never said anything, he wished she would heed her own advice and share with him what he knew she needed to say. “If you cannot sleep, then I cannot sleep.” She had meant what she said, but Jerry was too much of a gentleman to let a bad dream disturb both of their night’s rest.
He had dreamt about little Timmy again. Timmy was what they had decided to name their first born if it was a boy. As an adolescent Jerry thought he would never have children. He did not want to pass on the debilitating gene of depression. As he got older and eventually married, he felt the calling that many males feel. The need to continue the family name for another generation. He would not have loved a daughter any less, had that been the luck of the draw, but he dreamed of a boy.
Shelly was also leery about having children as an adolescent for much the same reason as Jerry. She feared turning into her parents and continuing the cycle of abuse. As she too grew older, she felt the nagging call to bare children. While having no personal preference as to gender, she knew that Jerry wanted a boy, and she wanted nothing more than to make him happy.
Shelly was in labor for nearly three days. All the while Jerry stayed by her side coaching her through. Midway through the second day the doctors started to get worried and frustrated. They wanted to do everything to help Shelly end her painful ordeal, but she would not allow it. She had a feeling that if they did anything, something terrible would happen to the baby (they purposefully didn’t find out the sex of it). Jerry knew better than to go against one of Shelly’s feelings. In the short time he had known her before the marriage she had saved his life at least twice by begging him not to leave the house. Later to find out that the very road he would have been on had multiple traffic accidents.
She was a trooper. They had discussed the economic situation beforehand. The decision was that they could live very easily on Jerry’s salary and that Shelly did not need to work. Jerry did not want to see his wife have to work and it gave him an incredible sense of pride to know that he could provide for his family. He was protecting her again.
He slept very little. He had left her side only twice and both of those were for dire restroom breaks. The female nurses that came and went out of their room quickly fell in love with Jerry’s undying devotion to this woman. They saw the happiness coupled with concern and admiration in his eyes. Many of them wondered how this woman was lucky enough to get this man.
Shelly remembered that look too and it scared her. He loved her so much that it scared her. She had never thought that any man could love someone who had a past like hers. She didn’t know if she could ever trust the creatures known as man ever again. When Jerry showed an interest in her, even though he was extremely shy, she tried to push him away; he was one of them. She saw something in his eyes, something she never thought she would ever see in a pair of eyes that looked at her… love.
The ordeal was difficult for her, not just physically, but mentally as well and Jerry knew it. Every time someone would come in to look at her he saw the hurt in her eyes. He had seen that hurt before, the first time they were going to be together.
Jerry stayed in the bathroom for a while longer on his second trip than it took for him to do what he was there to do. He walked over to the sink and was about to wash his hands when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. The florescent lights made him look much more tired and ragged than he thought he should look. He put the plug down on one of the sinks and filled it with cold water, all the while looking at himself in the mirror. His eyes were sunken into his skull and deep, dark circles surrounded them. He hadn’t shaved the whole time they were there and he had a growth of facial hair. When the sink had filled up enough, he cupped his hands under the cold water and splashed his face with it. Without drying himself off he looked at himself in the mirror again as water dripped off his face into the basin.
“Why are you here? What are you putting this woman through? Why are you so selfish? A boy. You don’t want a boy. You just want to fix something from your own childhood. What makes you think you’ll be a good enough father to this kid, no matter if it’s a boy or a girl?” The unspoken words flowed from his head into his ears.
He blinked as water was gathering on his eyelashes and threatened to enter his eye. Jerry brought his hands up to his eyes and rubbed them as if he were trying to rub the very weariness itself out of them. Opening his eyes he looked at himself again.
“You’re nothing special. You don’t deserve that woman in that room. She’s in there for you. You! The best thing you could do is to go out that door and head straight for the next city. You don’t deserve what’s in there. You’re dead weight on her.”
He brought up a hand to feel the coarse hairs on his face. They tickled his fingertips as he moved them over his face in an unset pattern.
“You’re dead weight on her, weighing her down. Let it go now while you both still have fond memories.”
After drying himself off Jerry walked out of the bathroom. He saw Shelly’s doctor outside and walked over to him.
“How are things doc?”
“We’ve been looking for you, where have you been? That doesn’t matter. I need to talk to you about your son.”
“My son?! I have a son? I have a son!”
Jerry turned a circle in the spot he was standing because of his overwhelming excitement. Normally a calm man, this was a site to behold.
“I can’t believe it. I wish my father were here. He’d be so-” Jerry stopped suddenly as he caught the doctor’s face. “Doc. Doc? What’s going on? What’s wrong? Is he ok? Is Shelly – is she ok?”
“I… I really shouldn’t have told you that you had a-”
“Come out of it Doc,” Jerry grabbed and shook the doctor. “Tell me what’s going on!”
The doctor moved Jerry into a private room. All the while Jerry was asking questions.
“First off, you need to calm down. There was a… a problem.” Jerry’s face dropped. “Your wife… Oh no! It’s nothing like that.” The doctor quickly responded seeing Jerry’s face drop even further. “There were…”
“Just tell me!”
“There were complications. We lost your s- your child. We lost your child. Your wife is fine. She’s asking to see you in fact.”
The last part was unnecessary, Jerry was halfway out the door on the way to his wife before the doctor could even finish the sentence.
Inside the room Shelly was laying in a sea of white. For the briefest moment Jerry thought she was an angel, hovering down to earth on a cloud of the purest white. He wanted to console her. To tell her that everything was going to be ok, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how things were going to go. Jerry knew that she was sad, but sad for whom? For him? She had no need to be sad for him. He was sad for her! It was a paradox that neither was able to get out of.
“Are you… how are you?” He asked as he slowly sat down beside her.
“Tired.” She responded.
He nodded. There was no way she couldn’t be tired. Being tired was a given and it was not what he wanted to know. He wanted to see how she was feeling. If she was sad and if so, if he could help. It was obvious that she was not going to tell him, so he decided not to push the envelope. She had been through enough already. Jerry got up from his chair and left the room. When he returned he had a cool, damp washcloth in his hands. After he sat down he placed it on her forehead and took her hand. She smiled at him and drifted into a deep sleep.
Jerry looked at the clock. Its digital red letters spelled out a quarter till five. She slept now, in bed. With him. Him. Why him? Jerry wondered what she saw in him? He wasn’t the most stunning mass of man to be ever cut from the clay of creation. Twenty pounds over-weight is what he really was. Always has been. He wasn’t tan or muscular. He wasn’t brilliant or charming. Why then did she go with him? Stay with him? After all that he had put her through…
It was Jerry’s first time. It was hers as well, in a way. As soon as it got past kissing he saw a look in her eyes that still haunted him. She was there physically, but any other way she was gone. The look came from an attempt to detach her soul and her memory from her body. Something that is not possible without loosing part of yourself.
She had feared it would happen, but she didn’t know how to prepare him for it. She didn’t know how to prepare herself. For more years than she could remember Shelly had tried to forget her past, tried to get past what she couldn’t understand. She attempted to tell her mother about the incident, but she would have no part of it. “It’s all in your head,” Shelly remembered her saying. “Maybe you remember it wrong. Maybe he was just trying to tickle you. I’m sure it was nothing. That’s your father for Christ’s sake!”
Her mother’s dismissive attitude rivaled the bad feelings associated with the incident itself. No, she couldn’t tell Jerry. She couldn’t stand to bare her soul again, only to have it be dismissed as fiction.
It took Jerry a long time to get her out of her trance that night. He worried something was dreadfully wrong. It never entered his mind to continue. He felt that his first time would be special. That is why he had saved it this long. It was nothing religious. He was not living up to other peoples’ standards. It wasn’t even that the situation didn’t present itself, he simply was going by what he felt to be right… and this wasn’t right.
He had been planning the night for months. It was her birthday and he wanted to show her how special and important she was to him. It was going to be perfect, he thought. He spread a large blanket out on top of a grassy hill that overlooked a lush, green forest. From atop the hill, one could see a small creek that cut its way through the forest like the trail of a tear as it meanders its way down a happy face. Shooting this way and that in an unplanned path. Even the weather cooperated by giving them a cloudless night with which to watch the stars blink at them as if they knew the same secrets as those beholding them.
He didn’t tell her why they were going or where. She didn’t even know he knew it was her birthday. That was part of the surprise. On the way they listened to a cassette he had picked up that contained several songs that she had been talking about just a week before. The chill dusk air was invigorating in the convertible on the drive up.
“Did you pick this up for me?” He remembered her asking as the wind whipped her hair in all directions.
“What? This? No! I’ve had this for a long time. I’ve just never had anyone to share it with.”
He smiled. She smiled. Shelly was so happy then. At peace. She was at peace again, now, as she lay in his arms. He couldn’t help but smile as she stirred slightly in her sleep. Jerry loved her more than anything. He would do anything to protect her. To keep her safe from harm.
He had packed most of the things into his car before he looked back at her lying on the blanket he had put out for them. She had come out of her trance before he started, but she was still lethargic. Her arms were crossed over her chest as if she were trying to protect her heart from being seen by him. Her eyes, staring out at nothing, looked as if they might explode into two large tears. He kneeled down next to her slowly, fearing any sudden moves would frighten her off. Slowly he moved his hand out to brush away some hair that had fallen into her eye, but she quickly drew her head away from his touch. He gently wrapped her in the blanket and then carried her to the car. She whimpered in his arms. Gently, he sat her down in the passenger seat and closed the door. His intention was to walk around to the other side and drive her home, but he found he could not move. The metal roof was cool against his cheek as he rested his face on it and began to sob quietly.
“Oh God, why doesn’t she just tell me what is bothering her? Why won’t she let me in? Why won’t she let me help?” Jerry asked himself in his head while his body was racked with the spasms one gets while crying. He could feel warm liquid pouring from his eyes. It would not have surprised him in the least if he were crying blood, he was hurting so bad. Jerry absently ran a hand under his nose, though he could care less about it running.
The door clicked. He moved out of the way as it opened, more out of reflex and surprise than conscious effort. She slowly stepped out, with the blanket still draped around her and walked over to him as if she were going to hug him. If that was her intention she ran into an invisible wall when she was about a foot away from him. Jerry was momentarily immune to the physical indicators of someone who had just been crying. A childhood defense mechanism that allowed him to maintain his “nothing is wrong” facade.
“I want to – I need to… I’m sorry.”
All signs of the stupor had vanished from her face. Her eyes were red from crying, alert and alive again. She looked at him, into him and no longer past him. There was fear in those brown irises.
“No, it’s not your-”
“I am sorry. I realize you did all of this for me. I don’t know exactly how you found out when my birthday was, but I really am flattered at the trouble you went through for me. I am sorry that… I’m just sorry I couldn’t have done this one simple thing for you.”
“No, it’s not like that.”
Jerry felt foolish. She felt she owed him sex for all of the things he’d done for her this night. He was doing all of this for her. For all of the things she has done for him.
Often Jerry mused that the ride home that night was the longest car ride of his life. They sat as far apart from one another as two people could, sitting in the front seat together. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her watching the side of the road. She was still covered in his blanket. “November Rain” was playing from the cassette he had purchased for her. That song still brings a sentimental tear to his eye.
Near the end of the song she moved over next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Even though she made no sound, Jerry knew she was crying her eyes out. He pulled the car to the side of the road, placed it in park and then looked at her for a moment. She reminded him of a child in that moment. Her favorite blanket wrapped around her, grasped by a clump in one hand while the other was tucked near her chest. Her legs held close to the body.
Jerry slowly put both arms around her to bring her near. Before he had always wanted to protect and comfort her, now he needed to. She never told him what bothered her. Not as he rocked with her slowly. Not as he placed his chin on the top of her head and whispered reassuring words to her. Not as he carried her into her house and not as he gently placed her into her bed. He kissed her on the forehead with the softness of a spring breeze.
She slept that night. For the first time in her life she was not awoken by horrible dreams of being molested. For the first time in her life she did not feel the urge to throw up after such dreams. For the first time in her life she felt safe. She awoke to find him sitting with his head resting on his bent knees. Asleep on the floor at the side of her bed. She knew that he would wake up at any sound to make sure she was all right. Her protector.
There are times when people know something. Shelly had often known that something was going to happen before it did. Jerry could look at a person and, with very high accuracy, know if they were trustworthy. Shelly knew, at that moment, that she loved Jerry.
When Jerry woke that morning he saw her looking at him. Instinctively he jumped forward with an outstretched hand, but then remembering how she had reacted the last time he touched her, stopped in a kneeling position.
“Are you… are you alright?”
She smiled peacefully.
“I’m better.”
Jerry sat back down and stretched out his arms and legs, looking around to make sure he was where he thought he was.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Not long, an hour or so.”
“Why didn’t you – I mean… why didn’t you wake me up?”
She smiled again. Jerry had never seen a smile on her face quite like this one before. He likened it to someone who has just seen God and was at peace.
“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Neither of them told the other, but that night’s sleep was the best rest either of them had in a long time.
After Jerry had gone home, Shelly’s mother stepped into Shelly’s room. Shelly looked at her and feared what she would have to say. A whore? A slut? What would it be this time? Her mother looked at Shelly in bed for a moment, then walked over to the window. She turned around walked back to where she was. Pacing as if she couldn’t decide how to say what was on her mind. Then, resolutely, she turned back around to face Shelly.
“You haven’t ever had any boys over here. You haven’t had anyone over here for that matter, but that’s not important. I don’t know what you two did here last night and I don’t want to know. All I want… I just want to say one thing.”
She looked at Shelly with eyes that could melt ice from across the room. Unconsciously Shelly pulled her blanket up closer around her body as if it would protect her from her mother’s intense stare. The peaceful smile Shelly’s face possessed was long gone.
“You had better keep that boy, because there won’t be any more. That one thinks you’re pretty. I don’t know where he gets it, but he does. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stayed. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll latch onto him and keep him. No one else will ever find you attractive.”
Jerry could feel his stomach start to move and churn on him. Possibly from the meal he had or from the memories he was having. It was not uncommon for him to have stomach pains in the morning. Doctors had suggested several things to him, but none of them ever really worked. They thought it was an excess of stomach acids because he ate too late in the evening. Jerry was fairly certain, this time at least, that it was more of a mental problem than physical. His own worst enemy was his mind. Left unchecked it would wander into places that he wished it would leave alone. He only had a few more hours before the sun would rise.
Thanksgiving was the first time Shelly confronted her past. It was the first family get-together she had been a part of since the incident. She was so afraid of that man, she became physically ill. Her mother didn’t mind very much. Most of her mother’s family had died before Shelly was born and her father’s relatives were mainly drunks or criminals – or both. Neither missed that side very much. Shelly knew something was going to happen, but never in her wildest dreams would she think she’d ever build up the courage for this confrontation.
Half of the gathered people were around the table eating while the other half, mainly the men, were watching a football game. Whichever half her father was in, she made sure she was in the other. Jerry stayed by her. Emulating his bodyguard fantasy, while at the same time, making a good showing to her family. They had never met him before this and were quite taken with his devotion. When he finished eating, Shelly suggested he go watch football with the other guys. He took her up on her suggestion, but not before searching her eyes to be sure she would be all right. He knew this was difficult for her, more than she would ever admit openly.
During the game Shelly’s father made a comment about his team, the Dolphins, not being able to lose. Jerry, a fan of the opposing team, the Jaguars, asked him if he’d like to make a friendly wager on the outcome of the game.
“A gambling man eh? I never would have guessed that from you Jerry.”
“I’ve been known to. I never had this good of odds though.”
“You may have balls yet, son. If you’re so sure of your team, yeah, let’s do it. How much money do you want to give me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about fifty?”
“I don’t want to take any money from my little girl, but I think I have to put you in your place. You’re on.”
When the game was over Shelly’s father walked into an empty kitchen to get his wallet. Shelly, who was bringing in dirty dishes to be cleaned, stopped suddenly in the doorway as she saw him. He wasn’t much of an opposing figure standing at around 5′6″, but he struck fear into her heart just the same.
“You can never tell anyone about this, you hear me? Not your momma, not no one,” she remembered him saying. “I love you Shelly. I want to hear you say it.”
She hesitated, suddenly having the word “love” take on a new meaning.
“Come on. Say it!”
“I… I love you daddy.”
“That’s my little girl.”
In the doorway she stood as a torrent of memories threatened to envelop her. From the overwhelming emotion of having long forgotten conversations brought to the forefront of her consciousness, her eyes began to tear up.
“What would he think,” she asked herself, “seeing me cry like this? Does he remember? I’ve forgotten for so long… maybe it didn’t even happen.”
Retrieving his wallet from his coat, her father turned around to see her standing one step inside the kitchen, white as a sheet.
“What’s my little girl doing?”
Suddenly the plates became heavier. She felt as if she were shrinking, reverting to a frightened little girl who had just been caught trying on her mother’s make-up. Her face paled even more. In front of her was a face from the past, not the older man standing five feet from her. He towered over her as his eyes looked at her, causing guilt.
That’s my little girl.
The hands that moments ago were holding plates now clenched into tight fists. The face that had become deathly pale was now flush with anger. The mouth that had uttered the words of love so many years ago now curled like an animal’s trying to show its fury.
“I am not your little girl,” she said, barely audible.
“What?”
Her teeth clenched so hard the muscles in her jaw quivered near her ears.
“I am not your little girl,” she said through gritted teeth.
“What? Of course you ar-”
“I am not your little girl!”
“What are you saying?”
“Shame on you father. I remember. I remember what you did. I remember what you said. Shame on you.”
Suddenly he realized what she was talking about. Shelly could see it in his face. A wicked smile showed there after the initial shock.
“Now, baby, you know you’re not supposed to talk about that.” He stepped closer to her. “It was a long time ago. You’re an adult now, you have to learn to move past things. To deal with things on your own, like a big girl.”
People started coming into the room at this time to see what the loud crashing was. Jerry was the first. He saw his wife talking to her father with broken plates at her feet.
“I can NEVER forgive you for what you did to me. I cannot simply ‘move past’ it. You’re right, I am an adult, and I have to live with what you did for the rest of my life. Fortunately, your life will end before mine. Maybe you can find peace then, but I never can!”
Her father stood there for a moment, saying nothing, running his eyes over all the people who had come into the kitchen just in time to hear Shelly’s final remark. A few wondered what was going on. Several had an idea but had never wanted to face it. Three people knew exactly what was going on. The only one who did not fit into a category was only a few feet away in mid-crouch, frozen while attempting to pick up the broken plates. Her father’s face reddened with anger as his eyes alighted on Shelly. She was glaring at him with all the courage of over 20 years of denial, rejection, dismissing, pain, and suffering.
Time seemed to slow for Jerry as he looked up at Shelly’s father. Movements that would have – should have – taken only a fraction of a second were now taking what seemed to be hours. Blood literally poured into Shelly’s father’s face. It even seemed to come into the veins of his eyes. He turned his head slightly and, at the same time, raised his right arm. The tension showed in his shoulder muscles as he attempted to break out of the slow motion spell. His mouth opened slightly, baring his teeth. When his arm was raised as far as he wanted it, its direction quickly reversed, thrusting his clenched fist at Shelly. Without thinking, Jerry leaped from his crouched position at her father. Just as Jerry made contact with her father, her father made contact with her. The brunt of the blow was taken away by Jerry tackling him. They crashed into the wall. Shelly’s father tried to take a swing at Jerry. He expertly redirected the force of the man’s blow to throw him off balance and spin him around so that he was facing the wall. From there Jerry grabbed his left arm – the arm that was not thrown in a punch – and twisted it behind the man’s back. He then placed his free forearm against the back of her father’s neck to force him against the wall.
A pacifist by nature, Jerry had not gotten into many fights in his life. All of the ones he was in he was happy to say that he had not caused them or done considerable harm to his adversary. All that was out the window though. Jerry saw nothing but red and was intent on taking her father’s arm clean out of its socket. He would have, had he not felt a hand placed gently on his shoulder.
Jerry turned to see the hand. Then the owner of the hand. It was only then that he realized he had no idea of what he was doing. He didn’t realize that his face was contorted in anger. His muscles twitching anxiously. His eyes set on seeing pain. His ears awaiting the sound of bone cracking and ligaments snapping.
Jerry did not instantly recognize the eyes that came from the same place as the hand. They seemed somewhat familiar. He quickly shot a glance at his surroundings and remembered where he was. Those eyes. They said, “Let him go. He can’t hurt me anymore.” They registered no pain, even though a black bruise was already forming around one of their borders. Jerry looked from the eyes back to the person he had successfully incapacitated, then, slowly, released him and stepped back. The man turned around to face Jerry. His pride lost. His dignity shattered. His secret in the open.
Jerry glared at the man with begging eyes. “Go on, give me an excuse,” they said. Shelly’s father, after rubbing his sore left shoulder, looked right into Jerry’s eyes. He knew it was over. He knew that Jerry would have killed him had it not been for Shelly. He saw that Jerry knew it too. With all of this, he knew what he had to do – the only thing he could do. He smiled.
Jerry, consumed with rage, made a move to attack again, but a hand on his arm returned him to reality. He looked at the hand again, then at its owner. “Why? How? How can she stand there so calm?” He asked himself.
“Let it go,” Shelly said while looking at her husband. Her protector. “He’s not worth it. Let him live knowing that his only child does not love him. Everyone knows m-” She stopped and lowered her head for a moment. Raising back up she said finished her original sentence. “His secret.”
The ride home was a long one. Nothing was said. Jerry’s hands shook slightly from the adrenaline that was pumping through his system. Looking over at his wife from time he time he saw that she was staring out at nothing. He wished she would share with him what troubled her. It would do her good, but so much had happened today that he decided not to press the point.
Shelly was only vaguely aware of her husband glancing over at her. She was being distant and she knew it, but she could not stop reliving the events of her past that she had tried so long to forget or disregard.
I love you daddy.
That’s my little girl.
“It was cold that night,” Shelly narrated the images that were in her mind as they became more vivid. “I had just gotten out of the shower and was getting ready to go to bed. I had school, or it was Friday and I was tired, I was going to bed early. Not something I normally do… but I had an odd feeling. I remember drying my hair in front of the mirror. My hair was longer then and I was thinking how pretty I looked that night. I smiled slightly as I ran the brush through my hair once more. Suddenly a flash of light cascaded through the window just as the electricity went off. ‘Lightning storm,’ I told myself after the initial shock. A few moments later a deep, rolling thunder pierced the darkness and rattled the mirror against the wall. I stood there for a moment, too frightened to move. After that subsided I put my towel back on the rack and made my way through the dark to my room.
All I was wearing was an over sized shirt that went all the way down to my knees. I guess it wasn’t all his fault; me parading around in a shirt that clung to my still damp body like a frightened child clings to its mother. What was mother thinking when she got me that shi- where was mother? I don’t remember seeing her. No… she definitely wasn’t in the house. Had she and father gotten into a fight? I seem to remember… what was it… she was angry with father for something. None of this was going through my mind that night. All I wanted was to get to bed without stubbing a toe or twisting an ankle.
Feeling my way into my room I saw red numbers penetrate the black void. My alarm clock. I was home free. I walked, without any further caution, to where I knew my bed was according to the position of my clock.
I lowered myself onto the bed. At first contact with something my brain registered ‘blanket,’ so I do not stop my descent. In the smallest amount of time possible, what registered as ‘blanket’ soon became ‘unknown.’”
An involuntary shudder passed over Shelly.
“I screamed and lurched off whatever I had sat on.
‘Who… who’s there?’ I asked. I don’t know why I asked that. I had no conscious idea someone else was in the room with me.
At first no answer. Then, ‘It’s me.’
Voice recognition. Brain connected ‘daddy’ with the object I had sat on: ‘knee.’
‘Daddy?! What are you doing here? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to… to see you.’
His voice came from the darkness. It was like he was speaking to me with his mind. It didn’t even seem like his voice anymore. More distant and covert than I had ever heard him.
‘Come over here and sit by me.’
‘Why? What is wrong daddy?’
‘Nothing is wrong-’”
“Shelly.”
“He never called me ‘Shelly’,” she thought to herself. “That cannot be right. What is wrong with my memor-”
“Shelly. Are you ok?”
Jerry.
She glanced over at her husband who was looking at her through worry-filled eyes. Shelly looked around quickly as her nightmare faded away, leaving her dazed. Trees. Driveway. House. They were home.
To Jerry she looked like she had just seen a ghost. All color was gone from her face (except the black eye she had developed from the blow her father landed). Her eyes darted this way and that as if she were attempting to re-find the ghost to show to him. When she looked at him, she appeared so frightened that Jerry thought she might be going insane right in front of him. He wouldn’t blame her.
She nodded in response to his question and started to get out of the car. He stopped her.
“No really, are you ok?”
“Yes… I’m fine.”
“Is there anything you want to tell me? I will listen. I am here for y-”
“No, I’m fine!”
He sighed slightly as she got out of the car and started into the house. The radio played on but he did not notice. Jerry shut the car off and followed her into the house, all the while keeping a safe distance.
“I can’t compete,” he told himself lying in bed. “She has her own demons to face. Try as I might, I still can’t reach her.” Absently he brushed some hair away from her face as she slept. “Haphazard even in her sleep,” he mused. How he wished he could help her. To tell her everything was going to be okay and that things would work out for the better, but he could not. He wasn’t an optimist or a pessimist, merely a realist. He knew as well as anyone who cared to succumb to reality, things did not always work out for the best, and everything may not be okay. He didn’t know which was the worse evil: lying or the truth – giving her false hopes or preparing her for unpleasant days ahead.
As time passed after the confrontation, Jerry and Shelly grew further and further apart. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Jerry lost a great deal of self-esteem. He felt that Shelly’s inability to tell him what bothered her stemmed from distrust. Shelly sank deeper into depression. When she looked into Jerry’s eyes, she saw something different. No longer was there the unabated love and overwhelming need to protect her. Now it was a look of worry and hate. She knew it tore him up inside for her not to tell him what ailed her. She also knew that she could not stand to have her past dismissed again. It was a cursed paradox that threatened to break these two apart and they both knew it.
Jerry became lost in his work, spending more hours at the office and less time at home. He unconsciously avoided going home at every opportunity because at home was a lack of trust.
At home Shelly found the things that normally kept her busy no longer consumed much of her time. Things she had enjoyed doing before no longer interested her as she fell deeper into her dark hole. She barely even noticed that Jerry was not around as much. She merely thought that days grew longer for her because of her inability to gather enough self-esteem to do anything. Loneliness set in and fueled her to want to spend less time with Jerry.
She started writing. What had originally been planned as a journal, now turned into a friend and confidant. That turned into a story where plots were formed and characters were realized. Characters from real life with the names and faces changed to protect the innocent. To protect Shelly. Her mind wondered what the future would hold for her and Jerry. That was placed into a story.
Writing passed the time, but it did little to help her cope. With the character in her story, that was the literary embodiment of herself. She found that she had no goals, no plans and no skills. If this fictional character and her fictional husband were to separate, she would have to find work somewhere to support herself. This was not an easy thing to do for someone who had been married since leaving high school. Her story became her life and her life the story. They intermingled and combined so that Shelly could not tell the difference between the two.
She walked around in a daze of depression. She’d walk into a room, stop in the middle and wonder where she was and why she was there. Nothing could take her mind off what it was on. She just couldn’t shut it up. Even at night, she’d find herself lying awake thinking. She’d fake being asleep so Jerry wouldn’t wonder about her. He probably wouldn’t anyway. He was drifting so far away from her. You can only push someone away for so long before they stop coming back. She could see now that if she didn’t do something she might loose him forever.
“Tomorrow,” she resolved aloud to herself one day. “Tomorrow I will tell him. We will sit down, and we’ll talk. We’ll share and I’ll tell him.”
The rest of that day she wandered aimlessly around the house. Looking for something to take her mind off of what it was on and something to end the monotony. She stopped in Timmy’s room. What would have been Timmy’s room. The room was cold and silent. Like an empty tomb, untouched by time itself. Slowly, Shelly strode over to the wooden crib and rubbed her hand over the top of the rail. She could feel the grain of the wood as it curved this way and that in an unpredictable pattern. What had this tree been before it was made into a crib? Who was the parent who dropped its seed into the soil? Was it loved?
She walked over to the rocking chair that was near the crib. Thinking ahead, they had placed it there for midnight feedings or just to be close to their baby. Jerry’s idea, but how many people could he possibly protect? Its pure white seat was the resting place for several stuffed animals and colored pillows. Shelly took the stuffed animals and pillows out of the chair and laid them onto the floor. All but one. One pillow. She put the blue pillow to her nose and took a deep breath. Then closing her eyes, rubbed it against her cheek. The softness of the pillow was comforting to her, but the coldness it possessed made her stop. Everything in that room was cold.
She sat in the chair with the pillow and rubbed her hands over her arms to try and warm herself. Looking around she saw the light cast from the doorway meander into the room. Lighting part of the floor and walls of the room. All the drapes in the baby’s room were drawn. They were blue. Jerry and Shelly didn’t know that their first baby would have been a boy, but they painted the room blue anyway. Wishful thinking perhaps. Shelly brought her feet up to rest on the seat of the chair and hugged her knees. Rocking slowly back and forth a tear came to her eye.
“Timmy. I’m sorry Timmy. I tried. I really tried. I would have liked to have been your-” she stopped as she realized she was talking out loud. All the time that she had spent alone recently had made her start talking to herself. She did not like it and stopped as soon as she realized she was. Her feet went quickly to the floor.
The tear fell onto the blue pillow on her lap, leaving a dark blue spot on it. Shelly looked down at the pillow and smiled slightly. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand before the tears in them made any more spots. Laughing softly, she rubbed the fingertips of her right hand over the dark blue circle on the face of the pillow. The spot was warm, unlike the rest of the pillow. Shelly brought up her other hand and placed it under the blue pillow. Cradling it gently with her arm. Her right hand gently stroked the face of the pillow and she moved her body back and forth in a rocking motion. Stopping suddenly, she looked around. Shelly stood up, as if she were in a daze, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. The pillow dropped softly to the floor. It was, after all, only a pillow.
Jerry mindlessly worked at his computer. He had made a serious effort to clear his mind of all thoughts regarding his home life while at work. He had found they got in the way of his productivity. He should not think about home while at work. There was no home at work. If there were it would not be called work. Work, as a noun, was a place where work, as a verb, was to be done. Home did not enter into that picture at all.
It is nearly six. Morning would come very soon. Work soon after that. But after that, Jerry wondered what would come? What would life give me? Tomorrow, will tomorrow be the same? Morning, work, home, sleep? What about the day after that? And what about Shelly? What are we going to do? What will become of us? What was Shelly doing last night? What did she want to talk about?
Jerry came in the door quietly. He found his wife sitting on the couch in the dark.
“Shelly?” he said quietly. She did not respond. He took his coat and shoes off and walked over to stand in front of her.
“Shelly?” he said a bit louder. Her head jerked forward and her eyes fluttered open.
“Who- oh, Jerry. You’re home. What time is it?”
“It’s a little after midnight.”
“Why are you so late?”
“I guess I lost track of time. Jim and I were working on this project. When Jim left, I stuck around to do a bit more work. It turned out to be more work than I thought. Why are you out here?”
“I… I wanted to talk to you.”
“Can we talk later? It is late and I have to get up in a few hours,” he said and walked into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
“Yeah, we can talk later,” Shelly said quietly to herself.
“She wanted to talk about something,” Jerry thought. “It must have been fairly important. Maybe… maybe she wanted me to leave. Maybe she wanted to talk about me leaving her. Perhaps I’ve overstayed my welcome already. No, I don’t think that’s it. If that were the case, I think she would have told me that night. Maybe she’s found someone else. Someone who she can trust. Another man. If I asked her, would she tell me?”
“What good am I anyway? She needs to find another man. She needs someone she can talk to and who she can share her life with. She doesn’t need someone like me. Maybe we should… separate for a while. Just until we can figure things out. Maybe that’d be best… for both of us.”
Shelly woke up and looked at the clock beside her. 7 A.M. Jerry would be at work by now. Maybe he didn’t go today. There’s a chance he stayed around to see what she wanted to talk about.
Shelly rolled over and looked at Jerry’s side of the bed. He was not there. Jerry had made his side of the bed and placed a piece of paper on top of his pillow. Shelly grabbed it and started to read it.
“Things are not working out with us right now. I do not know what will come in the future, but I do not see us going anywhere right now. I think you see it too. We are too much alike, you and I. We have shared many of the same experiences throughout the time that we have been together. From what I can gather, we have shared much more than that.
You and I are too much alike. We are two of a kind. I just want you to be happy. With me around you have not been. I know that I cannot make you happy. I also know that I probably cannot help you with what you are dealing with. I just want you to know that I’m here. I would like to go back to what you said the first few days of our marriage. ‘If you cannot sleep, I cannot sleep.’ Neither of us has slept very well for a very long time.
I am not totally gone from your life. I hope I never am. I am still here for you if you need me. Just now… I’m not living there – for the time being at least. At least until we can figure things out. I love you.”
Shelly held the note in trembling hands for a moment, then got out of bed and opened her sock drawer. She threw pairs of socks out until she found what she was looking for: a notebook. The notebook that was her diary turned story. Shelly flipped through pages of handwritten words until she got to the last page. There she wrote two simple words: The End.
