Page 10 of For Now

“Shh, it’s okay. Everything is going to be fine. We’re going to have a family. Everything is going to be fine,” he whispered against the side of myface.

I turned my face and started to cry as I felt him unbuttoning his pants. I stopped pushing against him. I stopped fighting back. There was no use. He was too big and too heavy and I was powerless. He forced himself into me. I could hear him breathing heavy against me. I kept my eyes closed tightly.It will be over soon. It will be oversoon.

The terrible thing about being married and being raped is that it’s very difficult to prove. It was almost impossible, according to Google. I cried for three days. Jeff kept his distance, going from work to his study and back mostdays.

On the fourth day, he raped me again. He came up behind me while I was doing laundry and forced me facedown onto the dryer. I screamed and tried to fight back until I didn’t. When he finished, he pulled his pants up, grabbed his keys, and left the house. I sat on the cold tile floor, bleeding. I got up on wobbly legs, changed my clothes, walked upstairs to the bedroom, and locked myself in. I pulled out my laptop and started writing about a woman who had amiscarriage.

I heard Jeff come home and start walking up the stairs. He shoved his shoulder into the door a couple of times and it busted in. I clutched my laptop in my lap. He walked over to the bed and emptied the contents of a paper sack he’d been holding onto the blanket. There must have been ten boxes of pregnancy tests. It was the most frighteningsight.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said. “We’re going to have our family. We’ll have our family and everything will be fine.” This was all he ever said to me anymore. These two phrases rearranged over and overagain.

He’d quickly grown mad. And I’d quickly grownafraid.

Chapter Seven

Isatup on the edge of the bed after a particularly dreadful attempt at sleeping. My back cracked in more than one place and I twisted my head side to side to stretch my neck. I sure felt a lot older than the barely thirty years I had under my belt. Two months ago, on my birthday, I’d done nothing to celebrate. I didn’t see anyone, return anyone’s calls, or even leave the house. I couldn’t tell you the last birthday I actually celebrated. Birthdays were never that important to me. Of course, with three younger siblings, perhaps I was forced out of them early. They were all off doing crazy things all around the world. We kept in touch but we weren’t particularlyclose.

I reached for my phone to check the time. I actually managed to sleep in. Well, it was 9:30 a.m. So I mean, more than usual. I checked my email.Oh, yay, notes on the first draft are in.At least it was something to keep me occupied with for a while.I’ll start on those later today.I checked my textmessages.

Emma: Come see the studio today? <3

I supposed I should do that. I hadn’t been there yet, and I’d kept myself hulled up in my house for the last week. I couldn’t make excuses to her forever. I thought maybe I was avoiding another random run-in with Samuel. I had no idea what got into me when I invited them in for dinner. I didn’t do that sort of thing. I spent the entire night after they left fussing atmyself.

I would be keeping a distance from Samuel the extremely attractive professor-neighbor-single dad. It spelled drama and I wanted no part of it. I had given it a lot of thought and dating wasn’t in the cards. Not any time soon. I couldn’t fathom it. I was going to keep my nose in my writing for the foreseeablefuture.

* * *

Iarrivedat Emma’s studio around eleven. It was an adorable store-front shop. Emma made it light and inviting. Everything was white accented in teal. So clean and comfortable. The front lobby area featured white washed antique furniture, teal and black accents, and dark wood flooring. No wonder she put together my house with ease. She had a knack for this, that much wascertain.

“Delilah!” she called out as I walked toward the front deskarea.

“Hi, Emma.” I gave a smile. I couldn’t helpit.

She checked her watch and suggested we get lunch before her next appointment. Considering the fact that I skipped breakfast, that sounded amazing. We walked next door to the little café where she was obviously known. This was probably her regular spot. Everyone greeted her by her first name and countless smiles were exchanged. She made her way to a corner booth, introducing me to everyone along the way. There was a certain kind of hospitality present in the South you just couldn’t find anywhereelse.

“So how are the revisions on your first draft coming?” she asked as we took ourseats.

“I just got the notes back this morning so I haven’t started yet. They should be good though. My editor and I are pretty synced up on most things,” Isaid.

“Oh, I’m so excited! I can’t wait to read it,” shesaid.

“Yeah, me either.” I feignedexcitement.

“Do you have anything new you’re working on?” sheasked.

I think she thought I was a book machine sometimes. I wonder if she even knew how long it took to write a novel in its entirety. My guess was she didn’t, but she was just making chit-chat. No need to explain. “Umm, no, not yet. It will probably be a few months. I’m always jotting down thoughts and ideas, but right now I have nothingconcrete.”

The waitress came and took our orders, and then we ate mostly in silence. I was never much of a “talk while eating” kind of person and Emma knew that. We finished up, and I paid for lunch. Emma always hated when I did that but always joked, “Well, you are rich, so I might as well let you.” No, I wasn’t really rich, given that when I think of rich, I think of royalty and oil tycoons. Although, my success in writing had granted me the ability to live more than comfortably. I wasn’t raised to spend money like crazy, and for most of my marriage up until I began to write, Jeff and I were working middle class. We had what we needed, a little of what we wanted, and a little in savings. In comparison to most in my position, I lived modestly. I splurged modestly, only when I really wanted something, but not on typical things someone would think of. I had amassed quite a library and aside from that, an occasional trip to the tattoo shop. That was me in a nutshell. Paper andink.

We walked back over to her studio, where her next appointment was already waiting. It was a young couple, who appeared to be newly engaged. They spent the entire time completely enthralled with each other. I watched Emma shoot them in several poses. She was so professional and yet completely inviting with them. People just instantly felt comfortable with her. As I watched, I started to wonder if I was ever as enthralled with Jeff. We started dating in college, and truth be told, marriage just seemed like the next step after graduation. We both took middle management jobs in our respective fields, moved to the suburbs, and settled in. We took vacations the first couple of years, then Jeff expressed his interest in a family and that’s when everythingchanged.

Emma finished up her appointment while I was lost in thought and said goodbye to them at the front counter. Then she gave me a tour of her studio. I think my favorite thing was the bookshelf in the corner she used to display all her cameras. Some were very old. Emma’s interest in photography was evident as far back as I couldremember.

I walked over and touched a small digital camera on the shelf. Everything was so nice and neat in its ownplace.

“Do you still take photos just for fun, too?” Iasked.

“You mean when I’m not shooting appointments here in the studio? Of course. I’ll go out some days and take snapshots of whatever stands out to me. It’s just not as often as I usedto.”

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