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May 14, 2005
Fiction - Pacific Sunset & a Date with Death
My ex-mother-in-law was buried Friday. And it was a milestone of sorts, in ending an era where I need never deal with my ex-husband again. I've tried several times to start writing about the soap opera that is my ex, his family and my former marriage. Strangely, if we were still married, it would be our 25th anniversary on May 24th.
But, I don't think I would have survived it.
I think a good place to start is with a short story I wrote about four months into our separation. It is not really autobiographical, but it is pretty raw in showing the emotional turmoil I was going through. I've always been tempted to go back and rewrite it...smooth out the rough edges. But I back away because as it stands it shows me where I was at that time, how far I have come, and just how my ex never learned from our breakup.
Over the jump you'll find the story ...
Joy could see her own death. She sat on the edge of the bluff, knees under her chin, her bare feet resting by the heels, toes in the air. She'd wiggle her feet and small bits of the bluff would crumble and fall, tumbling and skidding over the steep drop to the sand pounded by the ocean.
The Pacific was particularly nasty today. A hurricane off Cabo San Lucas had left Southern California enduring jagged and silvered ten-foot waves lined up like rows of shark's teeth gnawing away at the beaches. Unlike the warm, caressing touch of the ocean breeze of summer, the storm driven wind punched and plucked at the thin challis skirt she wore. It whipped and slapped at her bare legs, but she ignored the stings.
Her eyes continued to follow the rocks that tumbled down into the cove. Were that her body! To stand and launch herself from the edge. A cliff diver! Legs thrusting her out into space, the wind rushing to meet her, whipping her skirt out like pennants to be welcomed by the sand below. But, no. No glorious dive for Joy. No. Like the rocks, she would tumble down the side, broken shoulder here, torn knee ligaments there. She'd go . . . what was her grandmother's expression? Ass over teacup? . . . and end up a bloody mess for someone to sickup over. And pain! Joy sighed. Such a coward about pain.
Such a coward about life.
*********
"Larry? Are you ready yet? We have to leave in a few minutes or we'll be late," Joy leaned close to the mirror and checked her makeup. Ok.
She turned and looked back over her shoulder. Mistake. She couldn't believe how big her butt looked. She knew she shouldn't have had that piece of cake last night. Or the night before.
I might as well have just rubbed it on my thighs, she thought, that's where it all goes.
And now her last good dress was starting to fit too tight. She felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes. Not now! Not now! Joy turned her face from the traitorous reflection, left the bathroom and walked down the hall to the living room.
"Larry? Sweetheart, did you hear me? We've got to get going and . . ."
She froze just inside the doorway. The volume on the television had been turned way down. That was what fooled her. No screaming announcers, no cheering fans. Joy had let herself hope Larry was getting ready without her constantly nagging him. He sat in his chair, tee-shirt and jogging pants, bare feet crossed on top of the ottoman. She could feel the blood draining from her face as she counted, one, two, three, empty beer cans on the table. She tried to clear her throat against the gathering tightness. Larry didn't turn his head at the sound, but continued to stare at the t.v. and sip his beer.
"Larry," she grimaced as her voice squeaked. This would not do. She had to be soft, placating. "Could you please change. My parents expect us at one."
His head swiveled toward her. His eyes traveled over her, up, down, then stared into her eyes. There was no anger in his dark eyes, no boredom. There was . . . nothing. He remained silent; just continued stare. Joy fought not to squirm, and lost. Emotion finally showed in his eyes, it was satisfaction.
**********
The sun was higher and Joy could feel its warmth on her shoulders. She raised her face from her knees. There were no tears on her skirt. Not this time. There were no tears left in her. Joy dropped her arms to her sides, letting her fingers dig into the sun warmed soil. It was dry and coarse. She scooped a handful, raising it up high, tilting her palm and letting it drift over the edge. The wind caught the lighter dust, puffing it out in a dun colored cloud. Then it was gone and she rubbed her hands together getting rid of the grit. Joy paused, arms outstretched. Whose arms were these? Slender, muscles lightly defined. The hands she recognized. Nails chipped and chewed; cuticles a mess. The wind changed direction and her skirt billowed up over her knees, settling high on her thighs. She looked down at legs she hadn't seen since college. But were they hers? Her body was like the grit, herself, the dust.
**********
"Hi, everyone! Sorry we're late," Joy could feel her lips stretching over her teeth. She hoped it resembled a smile.
Her family crowded around her, hugging, kissing, making jokes on how she could never get anywhere on time. Joy made herself laugh right along with them.
"Sissy!" her younger brother, Ted, hugged her close, "It's so good to see you."
She heard a small snort behind her. Joy didn't have to look back, she could see in her mind's eye Larry leaned up against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, the corners of his mouth lifted up in derision at her family's demonstrative behavior. Ted leaned back from Joy and stared over her shoulder, "Hello, Lawrence. You wanted to say something?"
"Hello, Theodore. No, just clearing my throat," Larry came to Joy's side, "In town for long?" His smile widened, but Joy noticed it never reached his eyes.
"As a matter of fact, yes," Larry's smile slipped a notch, "Seems my boss is worried about local accounts and wants me closer to home for the time being."
"Well, that's nice," Larry grabbed Joy's hand, "Come on, let's go get something to eat. I'm starved. Talk to you later, Ted."
Larry pulled her away. Joy looked back at Ted and tried to shrug her shoulders, no big deal. They were seated at the table across from her great aunt, Judith, when Larry leaned toward her, put his hand on her knee and slid his hand up her thigh under her dress. Joy was so startled she almost dropped the fork that was halfway to her mouth. She turned to stare at him. Larry smiled and she tried to respond in kind.
"You want to know why I made that noise at your brother's greeting?" His voice was soft, like a lover's voice whispering endearments. Joy could see from the corner of her eye Judith's head nodding in approval at them. See? Ten years married and still like newly weds! "He hasn't seen you in quite a while, and there's now so much more of you to see! Get it?" His hand tightened on her thigh, grabbing a fold of flesh between his thumb and index finger. Joy felt blood rushing to her face in humiliation and opened her mouth to protest. Larry pinched harder and started to twist. Joy clamped her mouth shut and he eased up.
She recognized the routine, this was just a variation on a theme. "Just a joke, sweetheart. Just a joke." He let go, leaning forward to brush her lips with his, "Can't you take a joke? I thought you prided yourself on your sense of humor." Larry got up and smiled down at her, his voice now loud enough for others at the table to hear, "Are you sure I can't get you anything, honey? How about some dessert? No?" Joy could only shake her head, not trusting her voice. Larry turned and left the room, humming happily to himself.
Her cheeks burned. She pressed her legs together, a dull pain where Larry had pinched her. She tried to lift the fork to her mouth, hoping the mundane act of eating would calm the seething emotions that threatened to boil over. She couldn't make a scene. But the fork was too heavy. And Joy knew she wouldn't be able to swallow past the huge lump in her throat. She gently set the fork down and dropped her hands into her lap where, out of sight of others, they attacked her napkin.
A hand on her shoulder and she almost fell out of her seat. It was Ted. He slid into the chair next to her, put his hand under her chin and turned her face towards his. "Sissy," he began, "Joy. Tell me what's wrong."
Her eyes widened. Automatically she smiled, mask firmly in place, "Ted, everything is fine."
"Bull. You act all bright and bubbly but you jump like a frightened rabbit when I touch you. Lawrence is wandering through this family soiree smiling and glad-handing everyone. Never a good sign."
"You've never liked Larry."
"Don't you dare go all defensive. I'm so tired of all this damn pretending! You're walking around under a cloud but won't say anything to anyone. Everyone else is waiting around for you to open up. In the meantime, they play your game. I see it more because I've been away. Joy! You've got to talk to me, let me help you. You deserve to be happy."
"Joy!" Larry was suddenly next to her, his voice in that not-to-be-denied tone.
She jumped up as if yanked by strings, and stared in mute horror as a hundred tiny bits of shredded napkin drifted off her lap in a gentle cloud.
**********
Joy had no concept of the passage of time. She lay on her back, her eyes closed against the sun, unmindful of the dirt smudging her thin, white blouse. Her mind was on the waiting sand below. She opened her eyes a slit. The sky was a bright shimmery blue. It was a bottomless pool above her. God, couldn't she fall that way?
Her body was separate, alien, and the earth pulled at it. It yanked at the shoulder blades and elbows. It pulled at the back of her legs and heels. Joy wanted to soar. To be free. To leave the heaviness on her chest behind. One hand crept away from her and dangled over the edge.
When? Now? No, not yet. The air was sweet and the sun was warm. Joy felt herself drifting off to sleep.
*******
Joy reached up and rubbed her cheeks. Her face hurt from having to spend the evening falsely smiling at everyone while keeping her distance from Larry. It was almost a relief to be at home. His attentiveness at the party belied the fact that for the past six months they had slept in the same bed, but never touched. She had even taken to changing in the guest room, ashamed of her body.
Could she blame Larry for rejecting her? She finished slipping on her nightgown, smoothing down the front and adjusting the sleeves. She turned to leave when the door crashed open, the doorknob denting the wall. Larry stood in the doorway dressed in his pajama bottoms, swaying, eyes narrowed and bloodshot.
Oh, God, he's drunk. Joy clutched at the front of her gown, panic telling her to flee. But where? Larry walked to her, reaching out with his right hand and hooking her around the back of the neck. He pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his, trying to thrust his tongue past her closed lips.
"Come on, baby," he whispered. She closed her eyes and tried not to breathe. He grabbed her hand and placed it on his crotch, "Come on, baby, make me hard. Isn't this what you've been wanting?"
He wrapped his arms around her, thrusting his hips against her. Joy couldn't catch her breath, blood roared in her ears. It felt like she was drowning.
Larry suddenly pushed her away, "What's the matter. Suddenly got a headache?"
A small flicker of anger, Joy lifted up the edge of her gown and showed him the two round, purple bruises on her thigh, "You did this to me."
His lips curled up in a sneer. Larry slapped her hand away and the gown's edge fell below her knees. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers digging in and shook her. "If I had wanted to hurt you, really hurt you, I could. You know I could break you in two with just my hands," Larry let go of her shoulders and grabbed her breasts and squeezed. Joy went rigid, a sharp intake of breath the only betrayal of pain. "What was I thinking anyway? Look at you." He moved his hands to her hips and squeezed. "Sloppy. Lazy. Can't discipline yourself about food, for Christ's sake. If I don't want you, who would?"
He turned quickly and fell into the wall. He straightened up and lurched out of the door. Joy heard him stumble to the living room and fall into his chair. When she heard the television click on, she crept
down the hall to the bedroom. But Larry must have heard her, because he yelled out one more phrase that rang in her ears until, curled up and crying, she fell asleep.
"Fat, fucking bitch."
**********
Joy woke with a start. She blinked up at a sky starting to purple as the sun dipped toward the ocean. She didn't like that dream, that memory. To be reminded of what she was. How unlovable, undesirable.
Then. Now.
Joy rolled to her side, back to the ocean, and brought her knees up. Small rocks dug into her shoulder and hip. She sneezed as dust laden hair fell across her face. She was a thing of the earth, to be walked
upon while eyes focused on the sky. She ducked her head and drifted back to sleep.
**********
Was it one thing or a combination? That morning Joy stood looking at the bruises that covered her body. Larry had gone off to work without a word. That small flicker of anger came back and started to bank coals deep in her soul.
Ted stopped by for coffee and listened at her first tentative efforts at talking about herself. "Joy, I know it's more than you just being unhappy. Something is going on with Larry. Look, you don't have to explain. At least not now. When you are comfortable with telling me, I'll be here. I just know it's gotten bad because you're now willing to talk about it. But let's do something else in the meantime. Something for you."
"Something" turned out to be meeting Ted everyday after work at the beach. They began by jogging. The first few days Joy almost threw-up after each session. And she woke with more aches and pains than she knew she had muscles. After two weeks, Ted's girlfriend, Sara, joined them.
Joy took Ted aside, "How could you, Ted? Look at her!"
"Believe me, I do," Ted grinned.
Joy slapped him on the arm, "That's not what I meant. I feel like Shamu next to her."
But Sara didn't laugh at her, or pity her. She talked with Joy. She listened to Joy. The three of them would jog, run, bike and skate. Sara turned into a good friend. Joy realized she had next to none. She never felt comfortable having anyone to her home. Larry chased off any friend she ever made. And couples only went out with them a few times and were never heard from again. Sara dragged Joy shopping. The smaller Joy got, the more daring the clothes Sara talked her into buying.
"Joy, you look great!" she twirled in front of Ted showing off the bright biking outfit Sara had picked out for her. Two months and Joy almost didn't recognize herself.
"Joy, I want you to meet a friend of mine from work. He's joining our little group." Joy froze.
The young man took her hand and shook it warmly, "Hi. I'm Rick. I've heard so much about you from Ted."
She shot a piercing glance at Ted who stood with Sara, the two of them grinning and elbowing each other in the ribs. They soon became fast friends. The "Four Musketeers"! There card nights at Ted's apartment. Movie nights. And just nights where popcorn, Pepsi and conversation were the order of things.
This was not lost on Larry. "Where are you going?"
"Out."
"Hanging out with Ted again, huh?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"What about my dinner?" Joy turned to stare at him. This time she didn't flinch or drop her eyes. "There's food in the fridge. More in the cupboards. And if you can't figure out how to throw together a sandwich, there's always the phone. Call for pizza."
Joy was already sleeping in the guest room when Larry tried his next tactic. He bought boxes of fancy chocolates. He kept trying to press food on her. He left roses on her bed with notes that read "I don't know what I did wrong. But whatever it was, I'm sorry."
"You don't get it do you," Joy said. "I don't play those games anymore. You keep looking for the response you've always gotten from me. But I'm different now. I don't react the same way."
"You're my wife."
"No, I'm not. Not really. You haven't wanted me as your wife for a long time. Just because you've decided you want it today doesn't mean my thoughts have changed. I don't love you anymore."
Joy couldn't remember if she ever saw Larry as stunned as he was at that moment. Then he shook it off, like a dog does water.
"You think losing weight has changed you? Different clothes? Hanging out with your baby brother? You think any of his friends will want you? You may not be fat right now. And I stress the right now, because I don't believe for a moment you can keep it off. You'll always be damaged goods. You'll always be a fucking bitch."
They stood staring at each other in a thickening silence. Larry's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, fists clenched. Joy could feel her heart beating against her ribs, but she didn't move, didn't drop her eyes, didn't squirm.
Her voice low, "I want you out of this house, out of my life."
Joy was in Ted's living room, sitting with Rick and Sara. Ted was standing across the room. She was relating the latest with Larry with what she hoped was dispassion. Joy suddenly felt her heart give way, the layers of scar tissues rending away, all the frustration, the fear, the anger, flooding her system. She started to cry, deep gut wrenching sobs. Someone came up and put arms around her and held tight.
It was Rick.
**********
Joy came instantly awake and sat up. She could feel Rick's arms around her. She looked out at the ocean. The sun was almost at the horizon, the water now a molten orange flecked with gold. She looked down at herself; even she glowed golden bathed in the rays of the setting sun. The sand below had grown dark. It beckoned to her, pleaded for her decision.
She thought her breakdown would be cathartic. The loosening bands on her heart hope for the future. But it was if all the weight she lost off her body had settled in her soul. Larry stood in her mind. Was he right? Joy couldn't take the chance, to let anyone (Rick?) get close, to find out that she really was damaged goods. The feel of those arms was too tempting. She couldn't get lost again.
What was beyond the sand below? Another life? Oblivion? She wasn't looking for an answer. Joy just wanted the pain gone. Joy looked at the sun. As soon as it hit the ocean, she'd be gone.
She heard a voice, shouting. Her name? Joy looked away from the ocean into the gathering purple haze. A figure running towards her; arms waving. She stood, poised in the trembling sunset, release pulling her toward the sand, hope pulling her toward the approaching figure. Joy flung back her head throwing her hands toward the sky in supplication, a dying ray of sunlight turning them into glowing torches.
And the bluff began to crumble under her right foot.
**********
© 1996 Darleen Click
Posted by Darleen at May 14, 2005 05:57 PM