Page 10 of Dirty, Bruised Martini
When I woke up seven hours later you were still there.
So was Jane.
So was Dr. Miller.
I was scared. I couldn’t hide anymore.
I think about him when you frown at me.
I hate that you’re disappointed in me. I’m disappointed in myself. I want things to go back to the way they used to be too. I want to be happy. I want to marry you and have your babies and never worry about anything ever again. But somehow I don’t know how to do that.
I don’t know how to tell you he raped me. That he married me. That he called me kitten and whore and cunt. That he beat me and tortured me and marked me. He did everything he could to me to make sure you knew how much he hates you.
I think about that motherfucker when the doctor tells me all your tests came back clear. Which I’m not going to lie, I’m relieved. So damn relieved and grateful. But the one driving me the most fucking insane is too soon to take yet. A few more days before we can know if you’re pregnant.
Stupid fucking bastard’s fucked up your head, your body, your future.
And I fucking let it happen. I let the man I hate most in the entire damn world steal my girl. Fuck my girl. Maybe even put his fucking baby inside my beautiful rosy girl. Because I was stupid enough to force you to toss your birth control pills when you moved in with me. Wanting my son inside you so damn much. Never once thinking I’d fuck up bad enough that another man might be the one to father your child instead.
God damn it. I love you, and I’m about ready to lose my fucking shit.
I want his fucking tattoo off of you. I want his child out of you. I want him gone from our fucking lives.
I think about him when you ask me if I’d like to have a seat.
He would have pushed me down into the chair. Not giving me any choice whether I sat or not. Or caring what I wanted to eat. Probably not even offered me food at all. But, you pointed to my regular spot at the dining room table. You were smiling but you didn’t seem happy. Not really. You had my favorite food delivered. I haven’t had Nagasaki since I’ve been gone. I wanted to enjoy it. I really wanted to. But it was too hard to eat when I was crying. I don’t even know why I was crying. I just wanted to sit at your table—our table—and eat lunch with you.
I think about that god damn motherfucker when you cry over lunch.
Fucking lunch! You can’t even fucking enjoy lobster rolls without him ruining it. I hate that I fucking don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Do I leave you alone? Do I spend every second with you? I wish you could tell me what you want. What you need. It scares the hell out of me that you don’t know either. That neither of us knows how to help you.
I think about him when Dr. Miller said I’m not pregnant.
Not with his baby luckily.
Not with your baby sadly.
I’m scared to admit I’m disappointed that I’m not fulfilling the wish you’ve been hoping for so long. Although I wouldn’t have wanted our child to be exposed to him. Inside me. On top of me. All over me. That part is good.
Except I can’t help but worry that we’ll never have our own child. You and me. That it’s too late for us. We’ve missed our chance. Lost the opportunity to get married and have a family and have our dreams come true. That he stole everything from us, and we’ll never be able to get our life back.
I think about you when your small hand slid out of mine and you stood up.
Abandoning me to sit on the sofa alone.
It took everything I had not to stalk after you as you walked toward the window. I fucking hated the empty expression on your face. Well aware from the hollowness of your gaze you didn’t see the gold, red, and orange bursting in the landscape. Your favorite time of year ruined because of him. Another thing you can’t enjoy because of that asshole.
But Jane shook her head at me. Flipping up her palm to tell me to stay put as if I’m a god damn fucking dog or something. Pissing me off that she tries to command me. But I actually kept my ass on the cushion because I’ve fucked up so much I sure as hell don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to you. So I have to defer to her despite how I hate it. So I suck it up and follow the advice she gives me.
I just didn’t get it rosy girl. We received good news. Fucking perfect, incredible, wonderful news. Yet you seem unaffected. Not that I expected you to jump up and down and cheer. But I wanted to experience your relief. See your liberation from the uncertainty. Isolate you from the need to make hard choices that I don’t know if you could make even if you wanted to.
Instead, you left me. Retreating to the other side of the room. Rubbing up and down your too scrawny arms as if you were freezing. So damn cold all the time I can never seem to get you warm. Not with my hands or my words or my bed.
I kind of freaked out, ordering Jane and Dr. Miller out. Neither of them liked it. I didn’t give a damn. You didn’t seem to notice. Their hesitation or my anger. Startling as if you’d even forgotten I was there when I stepped behind you, sheathing your back, Forcing myself to keep my damn arms at my sides instead of curling them around you. Fucking hating it when you answered “I don’t know,” when I asked you what was wrong. You do know but you won’t fucking tell me. You’ve never lied to me before. Not really. This is what this bastard’s done to you. Fucking done to us. Destroying the trust I never thought we could lose.
I think about him when you ask me if I need anything.
He never cared. You care. You’ve always cared. I know you didn’t care for me sitting in my car. You thought I was going to run away. Not that I could. You wouldn’t let me leave. In the past, I never wanted to be anywhere but here. Now I’m not sure if I can stay.
