I chose to include this piece because it brings out so much raw emotion in regards to the characters. This piece won an award at the 2010 Texas Christian University Creative Writing Awards. And once again, I apologize for the profanity.
Some Secrets Are Better Revealed
My God, is that the police pulling up out front?
At least they didn’t come blazing up with lights and sirens.
Two cars, and it looks like they’re coming to my house.
I wonder who called.
Probably Mrs. Brock next door.
She has nothing better to do than sit on that damn porch swing and meddle in other people’s affairs. I just don’t know why people can’t mind their own business. We don’t bother anybody
and we ARE a respectable family. It’s a good thing the school bus just left, and Jeff stormed off to
work.
Now if I can only convince them…
As the officers saunter up the front sidewalk that parts the manicured front lawn, one of them peers into the picture window and the other admires my rose-colored tulips.
I know this.
I’ve seen it before.
Then both of them will come to the front door and listen for a minute. One will knock, and they’ll stand aside, so I can’t see them through the peephole. It’s no big surprise. Their black and white police cars ARE parked at the curb in front of my house.
Just as I imagined, the officers stand on either side of the door and prepare to knock. I open the front door before they have a chance to rap their metal flashlights on the freshly painted red door. We chose red because it’s supposed to be a welcoming color.
“Hi, officers. What can I do for you?”
“Ma’am, we had a report of a disturbance. Is everything alright?”
“Why, yes…I was yelling at the dog earlier, but everything’s fine.”
“Is anyone else home?”
“No, sir. You just missed my husband and children. Would you like to come in?” I pray they
don’t for fear they may see the broken mug and saucer in the kitchen. Usually if you offer, then they think you don’t have anything to hide.
“Yes, if you don’t mind, Ma’am.”
Great. Maybe I can keep them corralled in the living room. Jeff always insists that the public areas remain neat and orderly, even though we never have guests over. You know, “appearances.”
“Would you like some coffee?”
“No thank-you,” the two officers reply in unison, like a couple of parrots.
I recognize one of the officers.
He’s come to our house before. Hopefully he won’t remember me. I don’t think he will; he’s
too busy looking at his watch and picking lint off his uniform. He keeps interrupting the other officer in an attempt to hurry this visit along.
“Ma’am, there have been reports of you and your husband arguing. May I ask why you’re eyes are so red? Have you been crying?”
“Oh, it’s these allergies. Ever since moving to Texas I’ve had problems with allergies,” as I
wave my hand bearing a Kleenex in front of my face trying to cool my burning eyes and cheeks. I hope he doesn’t see the red marks on my arms. Nonchalantly, I pull my shirt sleeves down to cover my wrists. Pretty soon it will be summer and I won’t be able to get away with long sleeves outdoors.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“I think that will do it. Sorry to take up your time,” the impatient officer interjects, opening
the front door. They walk back to cars, but stop out by the street to talk. Thank God they’re gone. I hold my breath as they look towards Mrs. Brock’s house. After they’ve driven off I exhale like a deflating balloon. Once again I’ve been able to convince them that everything is okay in the
King household. And it is…really.
This only happens every once in a while. Owning your own business is stressful, and Jeff is overburdened at work because he can’t find good help. The kids and I don’t make it any easier for him at home, either. The minute he walks in the door, I’m asking him to fix this or that, and one of the kids always needs money for something. I guess it’s mainly my fault for not providing a more relaxing atmosphere for him after he’s worked so hard.
* * *
The first time Jeff hit me was when we were in high school.
I kind of deserved it, because I was flirting with his best friend, Scott, trying to make him jealous. Jeff hadn’t called or come by in over a week, and I heard that he had taken a girl named Stephanie out to the lake. My imagination had just run wild and the rumors were coming from everywhere – people I didn’t even know! I had nothing else to do except think about Jeff and Stephanie, and it just got worse as the day went along.
My chest hurt.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t imagine my life without Jeff.
My world revolved around Jeff.
Finally I couldn’t take anymore and found him at Mario’s Pizza. I decided to confront Jeff while he was hanging out with his friends. After marching in and demanding to speak to him, Jeff ignored me!
I was stunned!
And stupid.
Instead of leaving, I decided to see if Jeff could ignore me hanging all over Scott. I carried it a little too far when I sat on Scott’s lap. Jeff grabbed me by the arm, and then yanked me off Scott’s lap, out the front door and into the alley.
What the hell are you doing?” yelled Jeff as he pushed me against the wall. My head slammed against the bricks and I saw stars. The brick was rough and sharp pieces cut into my scalp, long hair catching in the cracks.
“What did you think you were doing, taking Stephanie to the lake?” trying to break free from his ironclad grip on my upper arms.
“You stupid bitch!” as he squeezed me tighter around the arms. I let out a soft cry and tears streamed down my cheeks. Mascara lined the trickle of tears and my hair was matted and sticking to
my face. I shouldn’t have listened to my friends, because Jeff told me that he didn’t take Stephanie to the lake…and I believe him.
“I’m so sorry that I doubted you, Jeff. It’s just that you haven’t called or come by, and all my friends were talking. I didn’t think you’d cheat on me, and I won’t bother you again when you’re out with your friends.”
“You need to get rid of those friends, because all they do is cause problems between us,” as he turned and walked away.
Then I went home and cried.
I cried because my and arms hurt, and I cried out of loneliness.
Many things make me cry, but to cry out of loneliness is a hollow, dark feeling. The medicine for crying is human interaction. There is no medicine for loneliness, and that leaves me feeling helpless
and hopeless. Jeff was the medicine that I desperately yearned for, and if it meant overlooking
minor faults to keep him, that’s what I would do.
There were other times when Jeff would backhand me or pull me by my hair, but never anything too serious. I considered these minor faults that I could overlook, because I vowed that I would not lose Jeff again. I became numb to the insults and incidental hits, and I could always cover any marks with makeup.
Nothing seemed too serious, we graduated from high school, and married soon after. Jeff and I were the perfect couple: I belonged to him, and I enjoyed that feeling. Years went by uneventfully, until the time when I was pregnant with our youngest child.
Sue was about five years old, Joshua was three, and I was ready to pop with John. It was a hot August day, and the Georgia humidity was unbearable. One night after dinner I went outside
to watch the kids play and try to catch a cool breeze coming off the lake. My belly was so huge it was
uncomfortable to move around. I was exhausted from a full day of housework and babysitting, and Jeff was inside watching wrestling on TV. I guess Jeff had a few drinks and decided to play some music; he loved his stereo and worshipped White Snake and Metallica. He began to crank White Snake so loud that the walls vibrated and knocked pictures to the floor, shattering the glass.
♪ In the Still of the Night
♪I hear the Wolf howl, honey
I had been enjoying the calm, cool breeze, and the interruption made me so angry that I rolled off the chaise lounge and waddled furiously into the house, scratching the stretch marks on my belly as I slammed the French door.
♫In the Still of the Night
♪I hear my Heart Beating Heavy
“Turn that shit down!” I yelled over the loud bass blasting from the four foot speakers. I was unsure if Jeff even heard me, the stereo was so loud.
“I SAID TURN THAT FUCKIN’ SHIT DOWN!!”
♫ My heart start aching
♪My body start a shakin’
♪And I can’t take it no more, no no…
Jeff turned around and two piercing lasers shot from his eyes. I knew that I was in deep shit for disturbing him. He grabbed me by my long blonde braid and pulled me toward the bedroom, causing me to lose my balance and trip over my painfully swollen feet. Jeff just laughed as I fell awkwardly to the floor.
“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again, bitch!” screamed Jeff, kicking me with each word spoken. I curled up in a ball the best I could, my belly being so bulky. I can remember feeling his hard work boots thump against my arms, legs and back, but cannot remember feeling any pain. My thoughts were on keeping the children safely away from Jeff, and protecting the unborn child inside of me.
I stared out the window into the back yard, willing the children to stay outside. Sue and Joshua were playing on their new swing set, unaware of the turbulence inside.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to … I’ll leave you alone … Please … just leave me alone …” I sobbed. Jeff walked away, but not before throwing a blanket and pillow out onto the back patio. He said that I didn’t deserve to sleep in his bed or be in his house with his children. After twisting and turning and crawling over to the dresser for balance, I was able to stand. The music grew in intensity as I shuffled towards the back door, grabbing a bottle of water on my way out.
♪ In the Still of the night,
♪ In the cool moonlight,
♪I feel heart is aching,
♫In the still of the night…
Through the windows, I watched Jeff tuck my children into their beds and kiss them goodnight. Both were wearing homemade pajamas that I had sewn for Easter. The sight of their freshly-washed faces and brushed hair filled my heart with love and a wish that they could remain this innocent forever. I closed my eyes and imagined the sweet soap smell and the tiny scar on Sue’s forehead. I watched Joshua squirm out of bed and retrieve a stuffed cow, the one reminder of his true age left in his ‘big boy room.’ He crawled back into bed, curled up with the cow, and fell fast asleep. They loved their Dad and I was glad that they had a father figure around who loved them.
That night I slept outside on that chaise lounge in my torn sundress. The air was hot and stagnant, and the plastic slats of the chaise lounge kept sticking to my legs. My ankles were swollen and throbbing, and every muscle in my body felt like it had been hammered on with a mallet. But at that moment I was thankful for the concrete patio, as it was a safer, more comfortable place to sleep than his bed, with his pawing hands and stale scotch smell seeping from his pores, and that repulsed me.
Just before daylight, he unlocked the back door and let me come in. No words were said, and after Jeff left for work I showered and woke the children. They never knew of my unconventional sleeping arrangements the night before. Sue caught the bus to school, and after changing into some nice clothes and meticulously applying my make-up, Joshua and I went to the minor emergency clinic. I told them that I had fallen down a flight of stairs, and they didn’t ask any more questions. It was almost as if the nurses knew better than to accuse a local business owner of something as heinous as spousal abuse. Jeff owned a successful auto repair shop in town, a trade he learned from his dad.
They treated me for cracked ribs and a sprained wrist. An ultrasound showed nothing was wrong with the baby. Thank God. I certainly learned my lesson then. Never again did I try to tell Jeff how to run his household. After returning home, Joshua took a nap and I broke down and cried in relief.
Relief that the baby was safe.
After a quick nap, I felt energized.
Jeff came home that evening to a home cooked dinner of chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes with cream gravy, corn and green beans. The children helped make homemade ice cream for dessert.
This always made everything right again. Never again did I have to go to an emergency clinic because of a disagreement. Usually a well-stocked first aid kit sufficed.
* * *
Now that those officers have gone, I can clean up the broken dishes and take a few minutes to relax. I’m beginning to learn which officers are getting suspicious and which ones are just there to collect a paycheck. I don’t know what I’ll do if one of the caring officers shows up. They begin asking a lot of questions, and even try to get my kids to talk. The kids know what’s going on, and I have told them that this is a private matter that we don’t discuss outside of the home. Sue and Joshua are teenagers now, so they know the consequences if Jeff was jailed. We’d lose the house, Sue would lose her car, Joshua wouldn’t be able to attend football camp in Austin anymore… I worry about John talking, though. They have these programs at school now and I try to explain to him that what his Daddy does isn’t wrong; it’s just that he gets frustrated.
I hope he believes me.
Jeff has always been great with the kids. He coaches little league baseball and football, and is the first to lend a hand with school projects. He loves the kids and would never intentionally harm them. Sure he gets a little rough with them sometimes when he’s been drinking, but it’s because he doesn’t know his own strength. He thinks he’s wrestling with the guys. I could never let them grow up without their father around. When attending school functions, it is easy to recognize the students from single-parent homes. They are either sullen or temperamental. I have watched them on Wednesdays and every other Friday (visitations days) complete a personality change. I’m not saying that it’s always happy to sad. Some children are so happy to see their Dads that they forget about Mom’s feelings.
I’m just going to have to convince Mrs. Brock that everything is wonderful here, and that it is not necessary for her to call the police every time she hears a little disagreement going on.
As usual, she’s sitting on her porch swing, where she has been every day since Mr. Brock passed away last year. She’s still very active for being in her seventies, and there is an air of peacefulness about her. We’ve only exchanged pleasantries, and I am unsure why I find her so intriguing.
“Good morning, Mrs. Brock. Such a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Why, yes it is.”
“I’m sorry if you overheard our raised voices this morning. The dog has been a terror lately, and we’re in disagreement on her training.”
“Dear, are you sure that’s all that’s going on?”
“What else could there be?” I start to fiddle with the sweet peas growing on the chain link fence separating our yards, diverting my eyes. Their heady aroma reminds me of a more carefree time.
“You keep to yourself so much. You never come out of that house, and I never see company stop by. It must be lonely.” Mrs. Brock begins to stand, as if she’s going to approach me. Quickly taking two steps back, I hope that my fear of intimacy among women does not alert her to our secret lifestyle behind the red front door.
“The children and Jeff keep me busy.”
“Don’t you want more out of life?” I try to form a response, but no words will come out. Her intuition has stupefied me. How intuitive is Mrs. Brock? Am I that transparent? Does she see in me some of the regrets she had about her younger years? Does she speak of the same shame and humiliation?
Snapping out of my wandering thoughts about Mrs. Brock’s life I realize that I never think about what I want. I turned down a full scholarship to Georgia Tech, instead settling for an associate’s degree at the community college. This is what Jeff wanted, and my entire adult life has been about pleasing Jeff.
With the feeling of loneliness creeping back into my life, I wander off towards the backyard so no one can see the veil of depression smothering me like a heavy wool blanket. Maybe Mrs. Brock is right. If I joined a garden club or volunteered at the hospital, nosy neighbors wouldn’t view me as a recluse. Therefore, it wouldn’t appear as if I’m trying to hide something. I’d have to talk to Jeff about that, because he would have the final say. Of course, it couldn’t interfere with the kids’ activities or Jeff’s schedule.
Upon entering the back door, I get a brilliant idea to cook a fabulous feast for dinner. One of Jeff’s favorite meals. He left in such a foul mood this morning that a special dinner is certainly called for. Men give women flowers as a way to ask for forgiveness. I cook.
I decide upon roast beef with béarnaise sauce, Yorkshire pudding, roasted red-skinned potatoes, asparagus, and coconut cream pie for dessert. Cooking makes me happy and is an outlet for any fears or regrets that I may have. The afternoon goes by too quickly and before I know it the children are returning home from school. Each of them retire to their rooms to complete their dreaded homework.
While preparing dinner and setting the table, I become more aware of the antique wall clock clicking off the late afternoon minutes. Preparation is hard, and Sue has to help because I was stiff and sore from the earlier fight. I can’t let Jeff see that it bothers me that much. If he sees the amount of pain that he has caused, it will bring him satisfaction and he will have won. My stomach becomes queasy and I become apprehensive when the clock strikes five.
Have I done enough to make Jeff happy?
Will he come home in a good mood?
Will he come home at all?
Is the house clean enough?
Is the dinner cooked to his liking?
The rumble of the garage door snaps me back to reality. Jeff enters the kitchen, takes his work boots off in the doorway, then gives me a peck on the cheek, commenting that ‘something smells good.’
Thank God.
Everything has been forgotten.
“Dinner ready?” Jeff asks as he hands me his lunchbox.
“I’ll have it on the table by the time you’re washed up.”
“Any mail today?”
“Just a couple of bills. Nothing too important.” Everything’s back to normal.
“Kids, wash up for supper!” After everyone’s seated at the dinner table, the usual small talk
commences. Jeff has never minded talking at the table. It’s usually the only time that we’re all together and can plan out the week.
“Sue has a new boyfriend,” Joshua informs the table.
“His name’s Duke,” Sue says, blushing.
“Sue and Duke, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” sings John.
“Mom, please tell John to stop. He’s going to embarrass me when Duke comes over.”
“And when is this event going to happen?” inquires Jeff with a smirk on his face and one eyebrow raised in playful response.
“He hasn’t told me when he’ll be able to yet. He’s very busy with work, and doesn’t get much time off now. But Dad, you’re going to love him. You two have so much in common. As a matter of fact, he’s exactly like you.”