After a while, they all stopped calling. Even the people who loved me the most, my dad and half-sister, could only take so much of my dodging and ducking.
“Don’t ignore them on my behalf. Seriously, babe. Call them. Let them know that you’re okay. I don’t want to keep you from your family,” Martin urged.
Lies. All lies.
I was slicing potatoes and onions for soup. Behind me, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across the soft curl of flesh below my hairline. A shiver crawled over my skin, turning my head woolly and warm. His touch used to bring me pleasure, but now it just creeps me out.
Moments like these, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his behavior. If I talked to my family, he punished me for it. But if I chose to ignore them, he encouraged me to reach out. He didn’t want me to blame him for the fact that I’d lost touch with them—he wanted me to hate them all on my own.
“O-okay, I will call them t-tomorrow.” But that was a lie, too. He didn’t want them involved in Lily’s life. And because I knew they wouldn’t take no for an answer if they knew about her, I’d kept her a secret from them. It was wrong…so wrong…but I knew having them around, trying to see Lily, would only make him take out his anger on Lily and me even more.
“Good.” Martin flicked my earlobe with his tongue. My body prickled, but I forced a smile anyway.
“Let me cut. I need to get this soup on the stove,” I teased, nudging him away with my shoulder. As he left the kitchen, I gripped the handle of the butcher knife until my knuckles turned white. I poked the tip of the knife in the center of the onion’s heart.
How did I become so isolated?
At one time, I had more friends than I could count. At work and school, I had a small army of girlfriends. And I had aunts and uncles, cousins, my sister and dad…but slowly, all my relationships peeled away like layers on an onion. The stuttering I used to suffer from as a child was back. It was almost like I was getting younger and more vulnerable every day that I spent with him.
Martin seemed to like my family in the beginning. Mostly, my dad and sister because my other relatives weren’t around much. Besides a few major holidays, I didn’t see my other relatives. But at the wedding…everyone came to that.
The ceremony had been breathtaking, but the day itself was blurry and stressful and hot. We got married outside in the middle of July and in my wedding dress, with the long train and itchy Chantilly fabric seared to my skin, I roasted and blistered under the hot summer sun. But I was beaming that day, and so was Martin, and when it came time to leave, I couldn’t wait to jump into the back of that limo and strip the heavy parts of my veil and dress away. I wanted to get away from the crowds and the heat…but most of all, I wanted to be with my new husband, our own little love cocoon.
He got in the limo while I gave my family one last round of hugs and kisses, and then I climbed in behind him. When I saw the stone-cold look on his face, my stomach churned with fear. It was one of those phone-rings-in-the-middle-of-the-night-type moments. For a second, I wondered if he’d received some sort of bad news.
“What is it, Martin? What’s happened?” I eased myself down on the seat beside him, expecting the worst. His two favorite cousins hadn’t attended the wedding. Did something happen to one of them? I wondered.
His face was a mask, skin stretched tight against the bone, and he wouldn’t even look at me.
“Please, tell me.” I put my hand on his shoulder, but he shoved it off. That shove was so shocking, and so unexpected, that my breath caught in my throat for several seconds. We just got married. Why is he angry with me? I’d never seen him angry or cold like this before. We’d had a few minor disagreements and one night, we’d had a heated debate about gun control that ended in laughter and sex. But nothing like this.
In my mind, I rewound the tape, searching through my vault of memories as I tried to play out the day. What could I have possibly done to make him act like this?
“Come on. It’s our wedding day. Tell me what’s going on.” Again, I tried to touch him, and he shoved me off.
“Fine. You know what, Martin? Maybe you should just go on our honeymoon by yourself.” The limo hadn’t started moving yet, so I reached for the door handle. That’s when he grabbed my arm, squeezing the fleshy bit on the bottom so hard that I cried out in pain. As soon as I yelped, he released his grip and burst into tears.
I was so shocked by the painful squeeze and the tears that I sat back down in my seat and just stared at him in wide-eyed horror. The limo lurched forward and through the tinted glass, I watched the rose gardens we’d just got married in melt away. I watched my smiling family and friends dissolve…
“That really hurt.” I rubbed my arm, wondering if it would bruise, and watched Martin sob into his hands. I didn’t ask him again what was wrong, and I didn’t try to touch him. I just watched him cry and felt like crying myself. What the fuck was going on with my husband? Did he get too drunk during the dinner and toast? But I’d seen Martin drunk and sick and scared. He’d never reacted like this before. Never.
Finally, when he looked up at me, his eyes were red and raw from crying, but at least he didn’t look hard or menacing now. He looked like the man I’d married, only distraught.
“It’s mom,” he choked out the words.
“Oh my god. Is she alright?”
She’d been at the wedding, of course, and I’d talked to her, but not much. I couldn’t really talk to any one person for too long, there were just too many people at the ceremony…
“She’s okay. Just hurt, that’s all. Right before we left, she pulled me aside. I’ve never seen her look so distraught.”
“Why? What happened?” I gasped.
Martin narrowed his gaze at me. “God, I’m trying to tell you, if you’d just let me talk for once. You always interrupt people, you know that? It really bothers me. I’m sure it drives people crazy, not just me.”
“It d-does?” I stammered. My old, familiar stutter caught me by surprise. I was stunned by Martin’s words. And hurt. My cheeks grew hot with shame.
I liked Martin’s mother, but no matter what was wrong with her, it couldn’t justify this sort of behavior on his part.
I felt a flash of anger but stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain.
“Like I said, mom’s hurt. She was in the bathroom when she heard your rude-ass aunt and sister talking by the bathroom sink.”
I fought the urge to ask, ‘which aunt?’. Three of my dad’s sisters had been in attendance.
“I know your dad paid for everything. Don’t think for even a minute that my mom and I aren’t bothered about that fact. If she could have helped pay for it, she would have, Nova.”
Money? This is about money?! I wanted to scream.
“Your sister was bitching to your Aunt June about how much everything cost and how my mom had barely thanked your dad for it. I guess she wanted my mom to get down on her knees and kiss your dad’s fucking feet. They were also making fun of my mom’s dress. They said she probably got it off the rack at Walmart. Then my mom came out of the stall and interrupted their bashing session.”
My face turned white. I tried to picture my Aunt June and half-sister, Rita, saying those kinds of things. My sister wasn’t snobbish, but June kind of was. Maybe together they were being catty. I didn’t see any reason for Martin’s mom to lie about it, but still, why would they do that on a day like today?
“My mom apologized to them, can you believe that? She actually said that she was sorry for not paying more, then she ran out of there in tears. I didn’t see her for hours. She must have been hiding somewhere in the gardens, trying to avoid your family.” He hissed out the words ‘your family’ through his teeth.
“I’m so sorry. I just c-can’t believe they would say s-something like that…”
“Oh, so now my mom is a liar?”
“No, of course th-that’s not what I’m s-saying.” I put my hand on his leg and this time, he didn’t push me away. “I’m just shocked, th-that’s all. And my heart is broken for your m-mom. What an awful thing for them to say. Martin, I know you’re m-mad, but I love you and it’s not f-fair to take it out on me. I’m on your side. You’re my f-family now. We can’t turn on each other when b-bad things happen, okay?”
Martin’s face turned buttery and sweet, and he smiled. It was that smile again, the one I fell in love with on that very first night. “God, I’m such a prick. Your poor arm. I can’t believe I grabbed you so hard. I’ll never forgive myself. Can you forgive me?” He kissed the sore spot where he’d grabbed me, his lips as soft as butterfly wings.
“Of course, I forgive you, Martin. But please, from now on, let’s just talk these things through. You can n-never treat me that way again, do y-you understand?” Adrenaline rushed through my bloodstream, my teeth chattering despite the day’s warmth. I was still reeling from how quickly his mood had turned and then turned back…
For a while, things got better again. I almost forgot about the incident completely. Our honeymoon was the best vacation of my life. We hiked and swam. We made love more times than I could count. And when we got back, I didn’t talk to my sister for weeks. It was my dad that I finally talked to first, confiding in him about what Martin’s mom had heard in the bathroom. Surprisingly, he defended my sister and June, arguing relentlessly that they would never do that to me and that Martin was trying to turn me against my family. I know a bad guy when I see one. He’s shiny and slick, but that’s how guys like us appear to outsiders. I know that, because I used to be one, he said.
By the time I was old enough to not need my father anymore, he had changed his ways. He’d quit drinking and drugging and became a semi-stable figure in my life. My half-sister was younger than me, the product of another romantic encounter with a woman that didn’t stick around, and she had always been more willing to forgive our dad.
I was so pissed at him for defending her and talking bad about Martin that I didn’t talk to him for months. It was just me and Martin, versus everyone else.
But as time passed, we all sort of made up. I went to visit my sister and invited my dad out for lunch. However, Martin was never the same around them. It was so uncomfortable when we were all together that I tried to avoid too much contact, at least when Martin was around.
But then, it started to seem like there were problems everywhere…my friend Kerry showed up one day when I wasn’t home, and Martin said she tried to hit on him. So, no more Kerry. And then my boss at the restaurant, Tom, was an issue too. Martin said Tom was obsessed with me and every time I went to work, Martin would call and call, getting me in trouble at work. Eventually, I gave up my job and most, if not all, of my family and friends.
It wasn’t until I was pregnant with Matthew that I realized the problem was Martin. Everyone in my life was perceived as a threat by him, and instead of leaving him or telling him to get over himself, I changed who I was for him. I don’t know when I changed—it was gradual, like gaining twenty pounds over a year’s time or watching a flower grow.
One day I was a gypsy soul—strong, independent, opinionated, ambitious, worthy—and the next day I was weak and pathetic and stuttering again. I questioned every move I made and tailored who I was to meet Martin’s standards. By the time I gave birth to Lily, I had no one left.
As weak as he thinks I am, I’m about to prove him wrong.
I chopped the onion into little bits and tossed it into the soup. For hours, I stood there, watching the bubbly broth consume the fleshy onions, making them soft until they disappeared. Like me, they were still there, below the surface, only hiding.