Jenny jumped as the phone rang, and Charlie cursed. He glared at his phone furiously, and she watched his fingers tighten.
Charlie furiously resisted the urge to throw the phone. He flipped it open "What?" , storming off to a private area, listening to the stream of dialogue and excuses. He felt the back of his neck getting tighter and tighter as the call continued, and began pacing.
Jenny gaped at Paul, clearly not her Charlie anymore, as he paced like a caged tiger, gesturing with his free hand, spitting words into the phone. He glanced up at her and she waved, making a silly face.
"Inappropriate", she was always being told, her whole life. "You're being inappropriate" Charlie's face tightened for a moment and he laughed silently, waving her off.
"I'm at the Mega-Mart on 1960" he barked. "Hurry up" He hung up and reholstered the cell phone. He glanced at Jenny, her face full of curiosity and a little fear at his anger. He put a hand on her arm.
"I'm not mad at you, Jen" She relaxed "I have a vending business. My guy just got arrested for drugs and worse." He glanced at her face, open and accepting. "His mom is bringing the keys to me, here." He sighed. "I have to go to work after this and do an accounting. He could have ripped me off, too. I have pretty tight cash control but he could have just walked off..." Jenny smiled.
"I'd like to see where you work, Char." He relaxed.
"Is he English?" Charlie cocked his head, baffled. "Your guy, does he speak English fluently?" Charlie nodded. "His mom?" He nodded again.
"Let's go get them some Bibles".
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Chapter 19
Jenny loved Mega-Mart at midnight. It was so quiet. She didn't have to go around other people, or back up because they parked their carts in the middle of the aisle, blocking it.
She looked into the cart. Bedsheets, fabric softener, yarn, cat food, and laundry detergent. She'd never bought the name-brand laundry tablets but Charlie swore they were great. "After all the laundry you've done, I want to buy you some detergent." She'd let him.
She gazed at her husband, his blonde hair flipping forward into his eyes, wearing the navy polo and slacks she'd found him in. Navy was a good color for Charlie, she thought, bringing out the blue in his eyes. He paused at bread aisle, pushing the shopping cart, and cocked his head.
Jenny tried to avoid bread these days. She shook her head and they moved on.
What was she doing. What were they doing? She'd left an uptight, rigid, legalistic jerk. This guy was the man she married, a little seasoned with a nice dash of maturity. He didn't want a divorce? What did he want?
Charlie held up a six-pack of bottled diet Dr Pepper. She grinned as he loaded it and a few companions into the cart. He bent over the Cokes, perked up, and began loading cases of canned Coke as well. Huh.
"Honey" he said absently. "Could you get us another cart? I need some more soda." Good gracious. With all that soda, no wonder he got migraines!
She went off to get the cart. Honey. Something was up. In the meantime, Jenny resolved to enjoy the good times.
Charlie straightened up as he finished loading the soda into the shopping cart. Mega-mart had offered a fantastic deal, better than the wholesale club, on soda. He'd gotten a good supply and saved at least $20.
He grinned at Jenny, fingering through the sugarfree drink mixes and tossing flavors into "her" cart. Money he could spend on her.
He'd taken a love language test, at the urging of Pastor Jim. Giving gifts, and quality time. He was getting both, at once.
He asked Jenny, she paused for a moment, and said "Quality time". That's what he'd figured. How had she taken a love language test, though? Facebook. Of course.
Any others? They were pretty even, she replied. Charlie indicated the dairy section, and she shook her head. "I try not to cheat on work, if I can".
Well, that was honest. Charlie had to admire her morals. Before he'd found Jenny's blog, he'd worried she had relapsed, gone off her meds for good, sleeping with every man in town. He'd confided in his Dad, who's showed him her blog, along with a cheerful post about hairball treats and a vomiting Princess.
He'd subscribed anonymously and read every update voraciously; wondering if it was legal to "stalk" his own wife. He'd raged when he read her post about the mugging and posted photos of her bruises. He'd wanted to crush the little slime who'd dared lay hands on his wife, and been humbled by her forgiveness, and prayer, for the attacker. Reluctantly Charlie prayed for the kid, everyday, too.
Pastor Jim had been thrilled. "I think you really have a chance" he exclaimed "To make this work. You've got your eyes on Jesus, both of you. I'd love to meet her." Charlie had to remind him of the cult. "I doubt she'll want to see a church again, for a very long time."
Jenny had headed over to the health and beauty section, and he followed her, pushing the heavy cart of soda. He gritted his teeth and tried to appear manly.
Charlie looked so cute, pushing the cart, Jenny thought. She hoped he didn't pop a disk. She blew him a teasing kiss and went down the female products aisle. Charlie parked at the end of the aisle and waited.
She threw a few items in the cart, unembarrassed. They had lived together as man and wife for 8 years before he'd joined the cult. He'd seen it all before.
Charlie chuckled to himself as he noted the generic brands headed into Jenny's cart. He wondered if she even thought about it anymore. They'd been so poor while he'd been in college, she'd had to pinch every penny. She had always bought generic brands if they "rated" and the name brands only as a last resort. He smiled to see at least one name brand headed into her cart, and they moved on.
"Soap"? She shook her head. "My Mom makes it now, I get all I want for free." Charlie raised an eyebrow. "I have a milk goat, she gets milk and I get free soap in return. I put a bar of unscented in the shower for you."
Charlie recalled the luxurious lather and sighed happily. "I want to buy a few" They discussed Mom's fragrance selections and moved on to the deodorant. Charlie snatched up a stick of Old Spice. "I know it's old fashioned, but you always liked it". She smiled at him.
"I always heard horror stories of men smothered in cologne, but you always had the perfect touch." They grinned at each other, then Jenny blushed at the double meaning and looked away. Charlie's hands tightened on the handle of the shopping cart. It had been a long time.
His phone rang, a nuclear alarm siren. Charlie cursed.
She looked into the cart. Bedsheets, fabric softener, yarn, cat food, and laundry detergent. She'd never bought the name-brand laundry tablets but Charlie swore they were great. "After all the laundry you've done, I want to buy you some detergent." She'd let him.
She gazed at her husband, his blonde hair flipping forward into his eyes, wearing the navy polo and slacks she'd found him in. Navy was a good color for Charlie, she thought, bringing out the blue in his eyes. He paused at bread aisle, pushing the shopping cart, and cocked his head.
Jenny tried to avoid bread these days. She shook her head and they moved on.
What was she doing. What were they doing? She'd left an uptight, rigid, legalistic jerk. This guy was the man she married, a little seasoned with a nice dash of maturity. He didn't want a divorce? What did he want?
Charlie held up a six-pack of bottled diet Dr Pepper. She grinned as he loaded it and a few companions into the cart. He bent over the Cokes, perked up, and began loading cases of canned Coke as well. Huh.
"Honey" he said absently. "Could you get us another cart? I need some more soda." Good gracious. With all that soda, no wonder he got migraines!
She went off to get the cart. Honey. Something was up. In the meantime, Jenny resolved to enjoy the good times.
Charlie straightened up as he finished loading the soda into the shopping cart. Mega-mart had offered a fantastic deal, better than the wholesale club, on soda. He'd gotten a good supply and saved at least $20.
He grinned at Jenny, fingering through the sugarfree drink mixes and tossing flavors into "her" cart. Money he could spend on her.
He'd taken a love language test, at the urging of Pastor Jim. Giving gifts, and quality time. He was getting both, at once.
He asked Jenny, she paused for a moment, and said "Quality time". That's what he'd figured. How had she taken a love language test, though? Facebook. Of course.
Any others? They were pretty even, she replied. Charlie indicated the dairy section, and she shook her head. "I try not to cheat on work, if I can".
Well, that was honest. Charlie had to admire her morals. Before he'd found Jenny's blog, he'd worried she had relapsed, gone off her meds for good, sleeping with every man in town. He'd confided in his Dad, who's showed him her blog, along with a cheerful post about hairball treats and a vomiting Princess.
He'd subscribed anonymously and read every update voraciously; wondering if it was legal to "stalk" his own wife. He'd raged when he read her post about the mugging and posted photos of her bruises. He'd wanted to crush the little slime who'd dared lay hands on his wife, and been humbled by her forgiveness, and prayer, for the attacker. Reluctantly Charlie prayed for the kid, everyday, too.
Pastor Jim had been thrilled. "I think you really have a chance" he exclaimed "To make this work. You've got your eyes on Jesus, both of you. I'd love to meet her." Charlie had to remind him of the cult. "I doubt she'll want to see a church again, for a very long time."
Jenny had headed over to the health and beauty section, and he followed her, pushing the heavy cart of soda. He gritted his teeth and tried to appear manly.
Charlie looked so cute, pushing the cart, Jenny thought. She hoped he didn't pop a disk. She blew him a teasing kiss and went down the female products aisle. Charlie parked at the end of the aisle and waited.
She threw a few items in the cart, unembarrassed. They had lived together as man and wife for 8 years before he'd joined the cult. He'd seen it all before.
Charlie chuckled to himself as he noted the generic brands headed into Jenny's cart. He wondered if she even thought about it anymore. They'd been so poor while he'd been in college, she'd had to pinch every penny. She had always bought generic brands if they "rated" and the name brands only as a last resort. He smiled to see at least one name brand headed into her cart, and they moved on.
"Soap"? She shook her head. "My Mom makes it now, I get all I want for free." Charlie raised an eyebrow. "I have a milk goat, she gets milk and I get free soap in return. I put a bar of unscented in the shower for you."
Charlie recalled the luxurious lather and sighed happily. "I want to buy a few" They discussed Mom's fragrance selections and moved on to the deodorant. Charlie snatched up a stick of Old Spice. "I know it's old fashioned, but you always liked it". She smiled at him.
"I always heard horror stories of men smothered in cologne, but you always had the perfect touch." They grinned at each other, then Jenny blushed at the double meaning and looked away. Charlie's hands tightened on the handle of the shopping cart. It had been a long time.
His phone rang, a nuclear alarm siren. Charlie cursed.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Chapter 18
"I don't know a lot" Charlie had said "But it seems like a good time for ice cream." He had taken her to Mega-mart.
Jenny wasn't sure how it happened, but she found herself staring in shock as Charlie threw high-end toilet paper, lavender bedsheets, and fabric softener in the cart. "It's purple" he'd said "I bet you like it".
Jenny had found herself grinning as she sniffed the open bottle. She did like it. She told Charlie about the unpleasantness at work. Mr. Srinivasian owned a gas station. She worked nights, a few days a week. Sometimes she worked alone, sometimes Mr Sri worked alongside her, or in the back, working on the books. They'd had a lot of fun together, he was a very kind old man. Sadly, he'd had to sell the store.
"One time he taught me to sing a song in Hindi about a woman rejected by her lover." She began singing it aloud as people gaped and steered their carts around her. Charlie grinned. God he had missed her. "I think I'm getting manic" she mused.
He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let's go look at the cat food" he murmured. "I owe you a bag of treats."
Charlie grinned as he watched his wife brighten. She was so value-concious, sometimes she forgot to take care of herself. He watched her head straight for the generic brands. "Do you ever feed her a name brand can?" No, Jenny replied, not often, but when she did Princess loved Poultry Platter. Charlie threw a few cans in the cart, and added some "fishy" stuff for Baby Girl. Charlie watched Jenny frown over the cat treats. "I'm not giving her this stuff. It's got corn syrup!"
Charlie pretended to push the cart toward electronics as Jenny protested, her voice rising as he pretended to select a flat-screen. "Kidding!" They moved on to crafts.
Jenny immediately moved down the aisle, fingering the yarns and grimacing at some colorways. "Really? Peach and green?" She made a sour face and moved onto a deep navy, setting it next to a turquoise. "That would be perfect for you."
She turned to him, serious. "Charlie, do you want a divorce?" Charlie, taking a drink of his soda, began choking and shaking his head. "NO!"
Jenny smiled sweetly.
"I'll make you an afghan."
Jenny wasn't sure how it happened, but she found herself staring in shock as Charlie threw high-end toilet paper, lavender bedsheets, and fabric softener in the cart. "It's purple" he'd said "I bet you like it".
Jenny had found herself grinning as she sniffed the open bottle. She did like it. She told Charlie about the unpleasantness at work. Mr. Srinivasian owned a gas station. She worked nights, a few days a week. Sometimes she worked alone, sometimes Mr Sri worked alongside her, or in the back, working on the books. They'd had a lot of fun together, he was a very kind old man. Sadly, he'd had to sell the store.
"One time he taught me to sing a song in Hindi about a woman rejected by her lover." She began singing it aloud as people gaped and steered their carts around her. Charlie grinned. God he had missed her. "I think I'm getting manic" she mused.
He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let's go look at the cat food" he murmured. "I owe you a bag of treats."
Charlie grinned as he watched his wife brighten. She was so value-concious, sometimes she forgot to take care of herself. He watched her head straight for the generic brands. "Do you ever feed her a name brand can?" No, Jenny replied, not often, but when she did Princess loved Poultry Platter. Charlie threw a few cans in the cart, and added some "fishy" stuff for Baby Girl. Charlie watched Jenny frown over the cat treats. "I'm not giving her this stuff. It's got corn syrup!"
Charlie pretended to push the cart toward electronics as Jenny protested, her voice rising as he pretended to select a flat-screen. "Kidding!" They moved on to crafts.
Jenny immediately moved down the aisle, fingering the yarns and grimacing at some colorways. "Really? Peach and green?" She made a sour face and moved onto a deep navy, setting it next to a turquoise. "That would be perfect for you."
She turned to him, serious. "Charlie, do you want a divorce?" Charlie, taking a drink of his soda, began choking and shaking his head. "NO!"
Jenny smiled sweetly.
"I'll make you an afghan."
Chapter 17
Charlie sat on the couch, thinking and praying. Jenny was doing so well without him.
While living with him, she'd been exposed to a horrible cult, nearly raped again, deprived of her medication, and nearly killed as a result. Charlie's dad had been very clear: terrible things ensued when a bipolar person was taken off their medication.
He wanted her back, but was it fair to even ask? He'd given her a lot of pain and drama. He'd ignored her, working to excess.
"I'm your other woman" she told him bitterly one night. "Your job is your wife." He sighed. He'd even taken away her cat.
Baby Girl meowed and clawed her way up the side of the couch, purring loudly. Charlie smiled as her bright green eye locked onto him. He slid over to make room for her, hearing a crinkle behind a pillow. He investigated, pulling out a bag of cat treats.
He recognized them. The good stuff, grain free, with probiotics. He fed Baby Girl a few, mentally vowing to buy Jenny another bag. They played their favorite game "Hide and go Treat" - he moved the treat around until she "caught" and ate it.
Jenny was a good mom. The litter boxes were clean, food abundant, fresh clean water, and she stocked high-end cat treats. Princess was a sweetheart, loving and pampered. He recalled her laying a soft paw on his face at a bad point in his migraine.
If only she could have had kids, he thought. It had really mattered to them both. She'd even had that operation, the one that had gone so wrong.
"Problems with the autoclave" they'd said. "You'll have to come in for blood tests" In addition to agonizing pain, and losing all hope, she'd had to worry about disease. It just wasn't fair. He sighed again.
He'd lost a good friend not long ago, and Charlie had decided that life was something to be lived. He loved his wife, he wanted to live with her. Kids, in the end, were irrelevant as long as he could wake up to Jenny.
Speaking of, the door banged. Charlie checked his watch. 10:20.
Jenny walked into the room, her face somber. "I just got fired."
While living with him, she'd been exposed to a horrible cult, nearly raped again, deprived of her medication, and nearly killed as a result. Charlie's dad had been very clear: terrible things ensued when a bipolar person was taken off their medication.
He wanted her back, but was it fair to even ask? He'd given her a lot of pain and drama. He'd ignored her, working to excess.
"I'm your other woman" she told him bitterly one night. "Your job is your wife." He sighed. He'd even taken away her cat.
Baby Girl meowed and clawed her way up the side of the couch, purring loudly. Charlie smiled as her bright green eye locked onto him. He slid over to make room for her, hearing a crinkle behind a pillow. He investigated, pulling out a bag of cat treats.
He recognized them. The good stuff, grain free, with probiotics. He fed Baby Girl a few, mentally vowing to buy Jenny another bag. They played their favorite game "Hide and go Treat" - he moved the treat around until she "caught" and ate it.
Jenny was a good mom. The litter boxes were clean, food abundant, fresh clean water, and she stocked high-end cat treats. Princess was a sweetheart, loving and pampered. He recalled her laying a soft paw on his face at a bad point in his migraine.
If only she could have had kids, he thought. It had really mattered to them both. She'd even had that operation, the one that had gone so wrong.
"Problems with the autoclave" they'd said. "You'll have to come in for blood tests" In addition to agonizing pain, and losing all hope, she'd had to worry about disease. It just wasn't fair. He sighed again.
He'd lost a good friend not long ago, and Charlie had decided that life was something to be lived. He loved his wife, he wanted to live with her. Kids, in the end, were irrelevant as long as he could wake up to Jenny.
Speaking of, the door banged. Charlie checked his watch. 10:20.
Jenny walked into the room, her face somber. "I just got fired."
Chapter 16
Charlie sat on the couch, feeling like he'd been run over. Jenny was a lot hotter than she'd been, and it had been a long time. On the other hand, she was clearly angry at him. He silently begged God for guidance.
Jenny went in the bedroom, dressed, and did her God Time, appreciating the peace and quiet. She'd missed her God Time yesterday.
Her mouth quirked as she read various verses on forgiveness in her Daily Bible. God always had a way of using His word to get her attention, when she needed it. She sighed and fidgeted restlessly, closing the Bible. She'd already done her prayer time, including praying for Charlie and others who'd hurt her.
"What do you eat for breakfast?" Charlie asked, looking into her cabinets. Jenny was starting to feel a little violated - the man had ignored her for over 5 years, now he was in every aspect of her life, all in how many hours?
"I'm OK" she replied tersely. Charlie kept looking.
"No cereal?" He closed the cabinet and opened the fridge, looking at her with a pleading expression. "I'd like to fix you breakfast. I found out I love to cook, and I'd like to make you something wonderful for you." He paused and swallowed loudly. "Just please no bacon or sausage." He was clearly still nauseous.
"I have some whole fruit. I meant to make a fruit salad and eat it with some hard cheese, but then I got depressed...." Charlie brightened, digging into the crisper.
Jenny ate the entire "presentation", convinced Charlie had taken some cooking classes. He'd turned her simple fruit plate into an artful arrangement. She reached for the pill organizer, watching Charlie's reaction.
He leaned forward, curious. "What are you taking?" Jenny opened the compartment and explained her medication cocktail. "Old School. Awesome. Do you get a lot of side effects?"
Jenny mentally bit her tongue, wanting to remind Charlie she'd taken most of these drugs for the last 20 years. WWJD? OK, let it go. She listed the side effects in a monotone.
Charlie gaped. "That bad, huh?"
"No, not really. The antipsychotic" she made a crazy face at him "keeps away the nausea I get from the other two. I just sweat a lot, tired, and brain fog. It's a lot better than being crazy." Jenny turned her left arm over, staring at the jagged scar on her forearm. "This is me off my pills."
Charlie gasped. "I never told you this, but my mom decided to go the 'natural' route after my diagnosis. She took me off my meds and gave me a lot of vitamins, green drinks, sauna, stuff like that. Within a week I just lost it - put my hand through her car window and almost bled to death."
Charlie stared at her, his face somber, as tears trickled down his cheeks. He wiped them away, but they kept coming. "I thought you tripped and fell through a window?"
Jenny sighed. "We told my doctor the truth. He told Mom if she did that again he'd make sure she lost custody, and after what happened with Carl - well."
When Jenny was a toddler, her mother had lost custody due to the drinking, depression, and neglect. Jenny's aunt Sara had gotten custody, and done a fine job for a few years until she met Carl Smith and Heroin. After learning of the abuse, Sara had committed suicide by overdose. Carl had gone to prison, where he was "shanked", and Jenny had ended up in foster care for a few more years until her mother regained custody.
Charlie stared at her, his throat working. "Is that what you tried to tell me, the morning you left?"
She stared at him, her green eyes sad. "Yes, Charlie, I did."
He bolted down the hall. Jenny could hear him vomiting again. She checked her watch. Time to go to work. She picked up her backpack and left.
Jenny went in the bedroom, dressed, and did her God Time, appreciating the peace and quiet. She'd missed her God Time yesterday.
Her mouth quirked as she read various verses on forgiveness in her Daily Bible. God always had a way of using His word to get her attention, when she needed it. She sighed and fidgeted restlessly, closing the Bible. She'd already done her prayer time, including praying for Charlie and others who'd hurt her.
"What do you eat for breakfast?" Charlie asked, looking into her cabinets. Jenny was starting to feel a little violated - the man had ignored her for over 5 years, now he was in every aspect of her life, all in how many hours?
"I'm OK" she replied tersely. Charlie kept looking.
"No cereal?" He closed the cabinet and opened the fridge, looking at her with a pleading expression. "I'd like to fix you breakfast. I found out I love to cook, and I'd like to make you something wonderful for you." He paused and swallowed loudly. "Just please no bacon or sausage." He was clearly still nauseous.
"I have some whole fruit. I meant to make a fruit salad and eat it with some hard cheese, but then I got depressed...." Charlie brightened, digging into the crisper.
Jenny ate the entire "presentation", convinced Charlie had taken some cooking classes. He'd turned her simple fruit plate into an artful arrangement. She reached for the pill organizer, watching Charlie's reaction.
He leaned forward, curious. "What are you taking?" Jenny opened the compartment and explained her medication cocktail. "Old School. Awesome. Do you get a lot of side effects?"
Jenny mentally bit her tongue, wanting to remind Charlie she'd taken most of these drugs for the last 20 years. WWJD? OK, let it go. She listed the side effects in a monotone.
Charlie gaped. "That bad, huh?"
"No, not really. The antipsychotic" she made a crazy face at him "keeps away the nausea I get from the other two. I just sweat a lot, tired, and brain fog. It's a lot better than being crazy." Jenny turned her left arm over, staring at the jagged scar on her forearm. "This is me off my pills."
Charlie gasped. "I never told you this, but my mom decided to go the 'natural' route after my diagnosis. She took me off my meds and gave me a lot of vitamins, green drinks, sauna, stuff like that. Within a week I just lost it - put my hand through her car window and almost bled to death."
Charlie stared at her, his face somber, as tears trickled down his cheeks. He wiped them away, but they kept coming. "I thought you tripped and fell through a window?"
Jenny sighed. "We told my doctor the truth. He told Mom if she did that again he'd make sure she lost custody, and after what happened with Carl - well."
When Jenny was a toddler, her mother had lost custody due to the drinking, depression, and neglect. Jenny's aunt Sara had gotten custody, and done a fine job for a few years until she met Carl Smith and Heroin. After learning of the abuse, Sara had committed suicide by overdose. Carl had gone to prison, where he was "shanked", and Jenny had ended up in foster care for a few more years until her mother regained custody.
Charlie stared at her, his throat working. "Is that what you tried to tell me, the morning you left?"
She stared at him, her green eyes sad. "Yes, Charlie, I did."
He bolted down the hall. Jenny could hear him vomiting again. She checked her watch. Time to go to work. She picked up her backpack and left.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Chapter 15
Jenny coaxed the hot water heater, murmuring as she held her hand under the water. It slowly changed from tepid to warm, to hot, and she flipped the toggle. She shrieked as the first drops came out cold, but then relaxed as the hot water flowed over her exhausted body.
First: her hair! She'd brushed her thick brown hair after the workout, but it was sweaty and disgusting. She ran the water through her hair and carefully selected a shampoo.
Charlie sat in the floral recliner, wondering how to approach Jenny. She was living her life at 100 miles an hour. He checked his watch, still plenty of time to talk before she left for work. Oh no.
Charlie moaned as his gut clenched, and he remembered the awful fact: one bathroom. No, God, he couldn't do that with his wife 2 feet away, in the shower. More cramping. No! He moaned and pleaded with God all the way down the hall. "Not here!"
Jenny, singing in the shower, didn't hear the knock, but she did hear the door hit the wall as Charlie rushed inside. "Have you come to see me naked?"
Then the stench hit. Oh.
"Look to your left, on the floor". The room filled with the pungent scent of roses as Charlie moaned in shame.
"Charlie"
"Yes? I'm so sorry, Jenny, so, so, sorry, I just couldn't.. .not in your living room...."
"CHARLIE!" He stopped apologizing. "In sickness, right? In sickness?"
Charlie sat on the toilet, tears spilling down his stubbled cheeks. "Yes. Jenny, I'm so..."
"Charlie, did you plan this?" He shook his head. "I can't see you. But I know the answer is no."
Jenny worked the shampoo out to her ends, humming quietly. She began to rinse.
"I hate your shower" Charlie blurted. "I feel awful."
"Don't worry, C., I'm saving up. I'm going to get those plastic wall things and get them mounted. I won't have any more falling tiles. Huh. Sounds like a poem." She turned around, facing the back wall. "I may even do my own demo."
Charlie thought about his wife surrounded by plastic walls, and put his head in his hands. He had to tell her.
Jenny, exfoliated her face with a dollar store sponge and acne soap. She enjoyed the challenge of making her paychecks meet her needs, and when manic, really appreciated how much went to bills! It was hard for her to keep her wallet closed when she was manic.
She usually took $20 and went to the Dollar Store. She got to spend "a lot" without spending a lot. She had found some wonderful items.
Charlie flushed and pulled up his shorts. "Can I stay?"
Jenny clipped her hair up and thought about it. "I don't mind, if you hand me my towel and bathrobe."
"Done".
Jenny finished her shower. She guessed Charlie was speechless, or had run out of things to say. She didn't want to ask him why he'd come when she was standing there, naked, 2 feet away.
Jenny checked herself over one more time. She'd washed everything. One horrible day she'd forgotten to wash her hair, and had gone to work with greasy hair. She was thankful she still had a job. Other days, she'd forgotten to wash her face. Good to go. OK. She rinsed, shut off the water, and asked Charlie for the towel.
As she dried, careful not to bump the walls, she wondered at her exit strategy for work. Just leave? Confront him and then go to work? She paused. Running ahead. Don't do that.
Jenny pulled back the shower curtain and Charlie admired his radiant wife, glowing from her shower, clean wet hair running down her back, her complexion oddly enhanced by the vivid orange hue of the bathrobe. Staring. He was staring. Was he staring?
Charlie was staring. Jenny's temper flared, not from the admiration, which she'd missed, but from the two-thousand some nights she'd spent alone. She'd committed to loving one man, who hadn't wanted her, and now he was leering at her like a high-school kid with a nudie magazine.
Jenny stopped in front of Charlie, leaning forward to look him in the eyes as he sat on top of the closed toilet seat. "See something you like?" She knew, she just knew, she was showing a lot of cleavage. She also knew she had a lot more since she'd changed prescriptions.
Charlie stared, riveted, as his wife's scent floated over him, rich with the smell of cinnamon and bath soap. He gulped.
She undid the sash just a bit, putting a hand on each of his shoulders as she leaned in again. "Charlie, did you miss me?"
Charlie gulped again, trying to control his desire to crush her into his arms and drag her off to bed. "Every day, Jenny, I missed you. I missed you every single night. I never, didn't, miss you."
"Good" she stood up and retied her bathroom, silently repenting for manipulating her husband. "I hoped so." She glanced back at him as she left. "Leave the lid up".
First: her hair! She'd brushed her thick brown hair after the workout, but it was sweaty and disgusting. She ran the water through her hair and carefully selected a shampoo.
Charlie sat in the floral recliner, wondering how to approach Jenny. She was living her life at 100 miles an hour. He checked his watch, still plenty of time to talk before she left for work. Oh no.
Charlie moaned as his gut clenched, and he remembered the awful fact: one bathroom. No, God, he couldn't do that with his wife 2 feet away, in the shower. More cramping. No! He moaned and pleaded with God all the way down the hall. "Not here!"
Jenny, singing in the shower, didn't hear the knock, but she did hear the door hit the wall as Charlie rushed inside. "Have you come to see me naked?"
Then the stench hit. Oh.
"Look to your left, on the floor". The room filled with the pungent scent of roses as Charlie moaned in shame.
"Charlie"
"Yes? I'm so sorry, Jenny, so, so, sorry, I just couldn't.. .not in your living room...."
"CHARLIE!" He stopped apologizing. "In sickness, right? In sickness?"
Charlie sat on the toilet, tears spilling down his stubbled cheeks. "Yes. Jenny, I'm so..."
"Charlie, did you plan this?" He shook his head. "I can't see you. But I know the answer is no."
Jenny worked the shampoo out to her ends, humming quietly. She began to rinse.
"I hate your shower" Charlie blurted. "I feel awful."
"Don't worry, C., I'm saving up. I'm going to get those plastic wall things and get them mounted. I won't have any more falling tiles. Huh. Sounds like a poem." She turned around, facing the back wall. "I may even do my own demo."
Charlie thought about his wife surrounded by plastic walls, and put his head in his hands. He had to tell her.
Jenny, exfoliated her face with a dollar store sponge and acne soap. She enjoyed the challenge of making her paychecks meet her needs, and when manic, really appreciated how much went to bills! It was hard for her to keep her wallet closed when she was manic.
She usually took $20 and went to the Dollar Store. She got to spend "a lot" without spending a lot. She had found some wonderful items.
Charlie flushed and pulled up his shorts. "Can I stay?"
Jenny clipped her hair up and thought about it. "I don't mind, if you hand me my towel and bathrobe."
"Done".
Jenny finished her shower. She guessed Charlie was speechless, or had run out of things to say. She didn't want to ask him why he'd come when she was standing there, naked, 2 feet away.
Jenny checked herself over one more time. She'd washed everything. One horrible day she'd forgotten to wash her hair, and had gone to work with greasy hair. She was thankful she still had a job. Other days, she'd forgotten to wash her face. Good to go. OK. She rinsed, shut off the water, and asked Charlie for the towel.
As she dried, careful not to bump the walls, she wondered at her exit strategy for work. Just leave? Confront him and then go to work? She paused. Running ahead. Don't do that.
Jenny pulled back the shower curtain and Charlie admired his radiant wife, glowing from her shower, clean wet hair running down her back, her complexion oddly enhanced by the vivid orange hue of the bathrobe. Staring. He was staring. Was he staring?
Charlie was staring. Jenny's temper flared, not from the admiration, which she'd missed, but from the two-thousand some nights she'd spent alone. She'd committed to loving one man, who hadn't wanted her, and now he was leering at her like a high-school kid with a nudie magazine.
Jenny stopped in front of Charlie, leaning forward to look him in the eyes as he sat on top of the closed toilet seat. "See something you like?" She knew, she just knew, she was showing a lot of cleavage. She also knew she had a lot more since she'd changed prescriptions.
Charlie stared, riveted, as his wife's scent floated over him, rich with the smell of cinnamon and bath soap. He gulped.
She undid the sash just a bit, putting a hand on each of his shoulders as she leaned in again. "Charlie, did you miss me?"
Charlie gulped again, trying to control his desire to crush her into his arms and drag her off to bed. "Every day, Jenny, I missed you. I missed you every single night. I never, didn't, miss you."
"Good" she stood up and retied her bathroom, silently repenting for manipulating her husband. "I hoped so." She glanced back at him as she left. "Leave the lid up".
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Chapter 14
Jenny woke up slowly, surprisingly comfortable. Her tongue felt like a piece of dried leather in her mouth, and she reached out for her water bottle. She flipped up the straw and took a long drink.
"Dry mouth" didn't cover it, she thought slowly. At least she hadn't woken up with a migraine, like...
Charlie.
She could hear him snoring behind her in bed, and recalled her dream. She hadn't had The Dream in years. Jenny sighed as she concluded the stress of Charlie had flipped the switch again.
Please God she thought quietly not for another couple years, huh? She slowly crawled out of bed. The sofabed was pretty comfortable, but the "mattress" rested on the floor. She had a cheap foam topper, which kept her pretty comfortable, but it was always hard, literally, "getting up" off the floor!
Charlie lay on his back, snoring, dressed in cotton boxers. He looked good, she admitted, he must have been working out. Jenny remembered how shocked a much-younger Charlie had been, to find her deadlifting in the high school gym.
"You'll hurt your... parts!" he'd stammered. She had carefully placed the barbell on the floor before replying.
"Charlie, I can't have kids anyway. How is lifting something going to hurt me? What about the woman in other countries? They carry huge weights all the time and do tons of manual labor - and they have tons of kids." He'd blushed, but gone off and done his chest presses as she finished her deadlifts.
Jenny had actually saved up and bought herself a basic set of free weights, after leaving Charlie and buying the house. She loved to get out there and crank out some reps, the Gospel Metal blasting. Jenny began humming a tune as she changed out of her cotton knit shorts and t-shirt, into a sport bra, baggy t-shirt, and knit shorts.
She sighed quietly as she opened the back door to the house, the porch light illuminating the metal storage container. It had come cheap, she thought. She'd actually bartered some yard work and caregiving and paid the rest in cash.
A lot of caregiving, she thought. And Mr Jones had been rather difficult. A head injury patient, he'd hurt himself driving drunk, paralyzing himself from the chest down. He needed help with bathing and housework, screaming at her if things weren't done to his satisfaction. She'd actually found an online support group, learning quite a bit. He hadn't trusted the Medicaid care providers, instead claiming a "Bible thumping good girl like you won't rob me". No, she hadn't, but she'd sure earned the storage container.
Jenny also, quietly, suspected her race had played a factor. They were both white.
At the time, she'd just wanted to get out the house, but in the long run she was glad she'd done it. She walked up to the door and unlocked the padlock, swinging open the door. A lone light bulb hung from an exension cord. Jenny reached for her MP3 player.
Half an hour later, exhausted and dripping with sweat, she locked the door. Mr Jones had taught her to appreciate the use of her body, like nothing else. She wanted to keep it healthy and working for a long time.
Would Charlie change my diapers? Would he check my blood sugar? Charlie had always hated needles. Would he at least make sure I had a decent caregiver? She wiped a tear away at the thought, opening the back door, to ...
Charlie, in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee. "Hi"
Charlie looked at his wife, sweaty and dishevelled. "You look hot" he replied. She raised an eyebrow, and he leered at her with a grin. "Very hot".
"Get out of here" she muttered, slapping him on the shoulder. "All that medication has gone to your head."
Jenny headed off to take her shower, as Charlie gritted his teeth, at the thought of his wife in that awful shower enclosure.
He had to do something to help.
"Dry mouth" didn't cover it, she thought slowly. At least she hadn't woken up with a migraine, like...
Charlie.
She could hear him snoring behind her in bed, and recalled her dream. She hadn't had The Dream in years. Jenny sighed as she concluded the stress of Charlie had flipped the switch again.
Please God she thought quietly not for another couple years, huh? She slowly crawled out of bed. The sofabed was pretty comfortable, but the "mattress" rested on the floor. She had a cheap foam topper, which kept her pretty comfortable, but it was always hard, literally, "getting up" off the floor!
Charlie lay on his back, snoring, dressed in cotton boxers. He looked good, she admitted, he must have been working out. Jenny remembered how shocked a much-younger Charlie had been, to find her deadlifting in the high school gym.
"You'll hurt your... parts!" he'd stammered. She had carefully placed the barbell on the floor before replying.
"Charlie, I can't have kids anyway. How is lifting something going to hurt me? What about the woman in other countries? They carry huge weights all the time and do tons of manual labor - and they have tons of kids." He'd blushed, but gone off and done his chest presses as she finished her deadlifts.
Jenny had actually saved up and bought herself a basic set of free weights, after leaving Charlie and buying the house. She loved to get out there and crank out some reps, the Gospel Metal blasting. Jenny began humming a tune as she changed out of her cotton knit shorts and t-shirt, into a sport bra, baggy t-shirt, and knit shorts.
She sighed quietly as she opened the back door to the house, the porch light illuminating the metal storage container. It had come cheap, she thought. She'd actually bartered some yard work and caregiving and paid the rest in cash.
A lot of caregiving, she thought. And Mr Jones had been rather difficult. A head injury patient, he'd hurt himself driving drunk, paralyzing himself from the chest down. He needed help with bathing and housework, screaming at her if things weren't done to his satisfaction. She'd actually found an online support group, learning quite a bit. He hadn't trusted the Medicaid care providers, instead claiming a "Bible thumping good girl like you won't rob me". No, she hadn't, but she'd sure earned the storage container.
Jenny also, quietly, suspected her race had played a factor. They were both white.
At the time, she'd just wanted to get out the house, but in the long run she was glad she'd done it. She walked up to the door and unlocked the padlock, swinging open the door. A lone light bulb hung from an exension cord. Jenny reached for her MP3 player.
Half an hour later, exhausted and dripping with sweat, she locked the door. Mr Jones had taught her to appreciate the use of her body, like nothing else. She wanted to keep it healthy and working for a long time.
Would Charlie change my diapers? Would he check my blood sugar? Charlie had always hated needles. Would he at least make sure I had a decent caregiver? She wiped a tear away at the thought, opening the back door, to ...
Charlie, in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee. "Hi"
Charlie looked at his wife, sweaty and dishevelled. "You look hot" he replied. She raised an eyebrow, and he leered at her with a grin. "Very hot".
"Get out of here" she muttered, slapping him on the shoulder. "All that medication has gone to your head."
Jenny headed off to take her shower, as Charlie gritted his teeth, at the thought of his wife in that awful shower enclosure.
He had to do something to help.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Chapter 13
Jenny curled in bed, under her covers, mindless of the sweltering temperatures outside. She always felt safe under at least a sheet and bedspread... and she could sleep however she wanted. She turned over and drifted deeper.
She was in the pink room. Jenny gasped in horror. She stood by the bed in her princess dress, hearing him come down the hall. She looked around frantically, trying to hide. The drawers under the bed kept her from crawling underneath, and the closet was too small to hide. She got the closet when she was bad.
Jenny had no idea how loudly she cried during the dream - she only knew she wanted it to end. The door opened and Carl walked in, grinning widely. She whimpered as he reached for his zipper, and she closed her eyes. She heard his pants hit the floor, and then she was thrown on the bed.
"We're gonna make a mess, little one!"
"No!" she cried
Suddenly, familar arms enveloped her and Charlie spoke soothingly in her ear.
"It's OK, Jen" he coaxed her, tears in his eyes. "It's OK Baby Girl. It's alright, I'm here. Remember? Carl's dead. He can't hurt you anymore". He pulled her close. Jenny was curled into a ball and sweating profusely.
"It's OK". He pulled her as close as he could.
"Go to sleep".
She was in the pink room. Jenny gasped in horror. She stood by the bed in her princess dress, hearing him come down the hall. She looked around frantically, trying to hide. The drawers under the bed kept her from crawling underneath, and the closet was too small to hide. She got the closet when she was bad.
Jenny had no idea how loudly she cried during the dream - she only knew she wanted it to end. The door opened and Carl walked in, grinning widely. She whimpered as he reached for his zipper, and she closed her eyes. She heard his pants hit the floor, and then she was thrown on the bed.
"We're gonna make a mess, little one!"
"No!" she cried
Suddenly, familar arms enveloped her and Charlie spoke soothingly in her ear.
"It's OK, Jen" he coaxed her, tears in his eyes. "It's OK Baby Girl. It's alright, I'm here. Remember? Carl's dead. He can't hurt you anymore". He pulled her close. Jenny was curled into a ball and sweating profusely.
"It's OK". He pulled her as close as he could.
"Go to sleep".
Chapter 12
Charlie woke up and watched Jenny sleep for a while, cuddling both cats. She looked so beautiful, he thought, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, curled on her side, her hand protectively resting on his kitten. The large cat curled at her back.
As he watched them, the big cat opened an eye and stared at him, then began grooming herself. He smiled at her and headed for the kitchen.
The kitchen wasn't too bad, he thought, as these things went. The appliances, a mixture of black and white, a black gas stove across from a white fridge, a sink forming a counterpoint to them both. The cabinets were made of some kind of cheap stuff but they looked alright. The floor tiles extended into the kitchen, a nice touch.
He found Jenny's note and read it, his brow furrowed.
Does she want to get rid of me? He wondered. We haven't even talked, and at this rate we never will. He paced the kitchen. At this rate, we'll never talk. He stopped by the sink, turned, and opened the fridge.
I've finally got an appetite. He thought for a moment as his stomach lurched. But I don't, because I'm so worried about Jenny. Will she tell me to go to hell? She's made a decent life for herself without me. He snorted, thinking about the "experts" who'd told Jenny she'd never live on her own. She's shown them.
Charlie pulled out some chicken broth, and warmed it in the microwave on the counter. Start low, go slow, he mused. He felt something against his leg, and looked down to see both cats eyeing him.
"It's mine" he said. They kept staring, their big green eyes boring into him. The microwave dinged as the big one began to meow and rub her head against his calf. "You'll never let me eat in peace, will you?" He began looking around for cat food.
Charlie noted, with approval, Jenny's "endless" dry feeder - she probably only had to fill it once a week, if that. The food was fresh, the cat always had something to eat... but they wanted his chicken broth. He rummaged around in a cabinet, finding a generic brand can of cat food.
"Suitiable for kittens" he read out loud. "Let's hit it". He couldn't find a bowl, and didn't know what Jenny used. The big cat began meowing loudly for her dinner. "Shush! You'll wake her up!"
Charlie grabbed a foam plate and dumped the food in the center. He paused, then used the can lid to divide it into two portions, one on each side of the plate. He gagged as he set the plate on the floor, out of way, near the pantry. "Oh, that reeks". He found the trash can.
He sat at the tiny table, sadly wondering if he'd ever eat another meal with Jenny. He remembered their last meal.
Charlie had woken up to the smell of cooking bacon as Jenny bustled in the kitchen. The house was spotless since he'd hired the service to come in twice a week. Jenny had been furious but he had an image to protect.
After he'd gotten out of the shower, he'd eaten and read the paper. Jenny had tried to talk to him but he'd held up a hand (Charlie cringed as he remembered it) to silence her. She'd taken his dishes the minute he finished and poured coffee into his travel mug, fixing it the way he liked. Light tan with a spoonful of real sugar, stirred well. Ah.
He'd picked up his laptop briefcase and walked out of her life forever. Charlie sighed. She had tried, so hard, to talk to him. She'd tried to warn him about the cult. Even when he treated her horribly, she'd stayed, until he'd put her life at risk by tossing her pills.
Charlie cringed as he remembered his dad's reaction when he'd come home to tell them about Jenny. Dad had roared in rage, grabbed Charlie by the collar of his shirt, and beaten him with a belt. "Knock some sense into you... you could have killed her! You moron! You never deserved her!" The words had hurt worse than the actual beating - although he'd had the welts for days.
Jenny, had sent his Dad a postcard. Dad - don't worry. I never missed a dose. I need to find what God wants for me. Please pray for Paul and I both. Love, Jenny
It hurt more, he thought, that she called me Paul, than anything else. I was always her Charlie.
Would he ever be, again?
Charlie looked over at the cats, licking the plate. He wished he'd gotten the name of that awful stuff before he'd thrown out the can. If Baby Girl liked it that much, he'd need to get some more.
As he watched them, the big cat opened an eye and stared at him, then began grooming herself. He smiled at her and headed for the kitchen.
The kitchen wasn't too bad, he thought, as these things went. The appliances, a mixture of black and white, a black gas stove across from a white fridge, a sink forming a counterpoint to them both. The cabinets were made of some kind of cheap stuff but they looked alright. The floor tiles extended into the kitchen, a nice touch.
He found Jenny's note and read it, his brow furrowed.
Does she want to get rid of me? He wondered. We haven't even talked, and at this rate we never will. He paced the kitchen. At this rate, we'll never talk. He stopped by the sink, turned, and opened the fridge.
I've finally got an appetite. He thought for a moment as his stomach lurched. But I don't, because I'm so worried about Jenny. Will she tell me to go to hell? She's made a decent life for herself without me. He snorted, thinking about the "experts" who'd told Jenny she'd never live on her own. She's shown them.
Charlie pulled out some chicken broth, and warmed it in the microwave on the counter. Start low, go slow, he mused. He felt something against his leg, and looked down to see both cats eyeing him.
"It's mine" he said. They kept staring, their big green eyes boring into him. The microwave dinged as the big one began to meow and rub her head against his calf. "You'll never let me eat in peace, will you?" He began looking around for cat food.
Charlie noted, with approval, Jenny's "endless" dry feeder - she probably only had to fill it once a week, if that. The food was fresh, the cat always had something to eat... but they wanted his chicken broth. He rummaged around in a cabinet, finding a generic brand can of cat food.
"Suitiable for kittens" he read out loud. "Let's hit it". He couldn't find a bowl, and didn't know what Jenny used. The big cat began meowing loudly for her dinner. "Shush! You'll wake her up!"
Charlie grabbed a foam plate and dumped the food in the center. He paused, then used the can lid to divide it into two portions, one on each side of the plate. He gagged as he set the plate on the floor, out of way, near the pantry. "Oh, that reeks". He found the trash can.
He sat at the tiny table, sadly wondering if he'd ever eat another meal with Jenny. He remembered their last meal.
Charlie had woken up to the smell of cooking bacon as Jenny bustled in the kitchen. The house was spotless since he'd hired the service to come in twice a week. Jenny had been furious but he had an image to protect.
After he'd gotten out of the shower, he'd eaten and read the paper. Jenny had tried to talk to him but he'd held up a hand (Charlie cringed as he remembered it) to silence her. She'd taken his dishes the minute he finished and poured coffee into his travel mug, fixing it the way he liked. Light tan with a spoonful of real sugar, stirred well. Ah.
He'd picked up his laptop briefcase and walked out of her life forever. Charlie sighed. She had tried, so hard, to talk to him. She'd tried to warn him about the cult. Even when he treated her horribly, she'd stayed, until he'd put her life at risk by tossing her pills.
Charlie cringed as he remembered his dad's reaction when he'd come home to tell them about Jenny. Dad had roared in rage, grabbed Charlie by the collar of his shirt, and beaten him with a belt. "Knock some sense into you... you could have killed her! You moron! You never deserved her!" The words had hurt worse than the actual beating - although he'd had the welts for days.
Jenny, had sent his Dad a postcard. Dad - don't worry. I never missed a dose. I need to find what God wants for me. Please pray for Paul and I both. Love, Jenny
It hurt more, he thought, that she called me Paul, than anything else. I was always her Charlie.
Would he ever be, again?
Charlie looked over at the cats, licking the plate. He wished he'd gotten the name of that awful stuff before he'd thrown out the can. If Baby Girl liked it that much, he'd need to get some more.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)