Chapter Six Loretta #2
“You know, if I did lose my job for helping someone, it would be the right thing to do. This life only lasts a few decades. Eternity is forever. I know what I want my soul to do. The right thing. If I lost a job taking care of my wife and baby, I’d get another one, any other one, and I wouldn’t blame her for something she couldn’t help. Real men don’t do that.”
“My daddy never did,” I whisper.
Jasper nudges the phone toward me. “Want to call him?”
“HI, DADDY,” I WHISPER.
“Baby girl, Loretta, thank God!” Dad exclaims. He shouts to my mom, “Honey, she’s on the phone.”
“I’m fine,” I say. I mean, I’m fine as I can be.
“That bastard called here, angrier than a wet hen. He started off sweet and worried, but then he called back every hour on the hour from one to seven, and each time was worse, until he accused us of hiding you. I called him on his shitty behavior, said he didn’t sound like a worried husband and father, he sounded like someone who thinks his property is stolen.
Missing when he expects it to be there, waiting for him. ”
I bite my lip. “Oh, no...”
“Oh, but I was nothing compared to your mother at seven. She was so calm, so innocent, all night. ‘No, Matt, we haven’t heard from her. We’ll call some friends, yes.
’ But then... Ooh. Like Vesuvius, Loretta.
Hellfire and brimstone, saying she’d call the police and have them search the house if he called again. He hasn’t.”
“Oh, Daddy! Mom, not the police. Don’t antagonize him.”
“I know, sweetie, I couldn’t help it. He was antagonizing us. And you. He thought you were here. I wouldn’t be surprised if he drives up here.”
“He wouldn’t miss work. I mean... I guess he would if his boss realizes I’m missing and insists Matt do something about it. I actually need a pep talk. I’m going to call him and—”
The wall of shouting makes me tremble and drop my phone.
“I’m not going back to him!” I manage to bark out.
My knees go weak, but maybe that’s okay.
I said it now. I shouted it. I declared it.
“I’m not going back,” I repeat in a softer voice.
“I’m going to call him and tell him that I’m getting a restraining order and that we should get a divorce as fast as possible.
Go our own ways. I won’t even ask for child support if he just lets us alone. ”
My parents are silent for a long time.
“That’s not fair on you,” Daddy whispers. “What about Arianna? You’ll have to get a job and find someone to watch the baby. You know Mom and I aren’t retired just yet. I suppose I could look into it. But I’m not up for a full pension for another fifteen years.”
“I know.” I married young, just like them. They took turns supporting each other, staying home with the kids. Mom is only... I have to think for a minute, but I’m pretty sure she’s fifty-two, and Dad just turned fifty-five.
“I have a job offer that would let me stay with Ari, keep her with me. I don’t know if I’ll take it, or if I’ll need to ask to stay with you for a while—”
“Of course you can stay with us! You can stay home with her while we work, right, hon?” My mother cries.
“Right!”
“That’s generous, and that’s perfect for a week or two or even a month or two.
But I have to contribute, Mom. You both know that I take pride in my work, even if it’s just being a ‘domestic engineer.’” I smile when I say Jasper’s term for my career of being a wife and mother, a job I love, a job I think is worthy.
“Domestic engineer? I love that. I want it on a t-shirt,” my mom laughs, but her voice is thick. “Do you want us to be on the phone with you when you call Matt?”
The most tempting thing in the world is to say yes—but then he’ll assume they know where I am.
He’s not really rational when he’s angry.
He’s definitely not safe to be around when he’s upset.
If he were, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I could handle someone who has a bad temper.
I can’t take someone who puts me in danger because of it.
“I don’t want him to show up at your house or stalk you guys, thinking you’re in contact with me.
I’ll let him assume I’m far, far away. Let’s keep it that way for now. ”
“I can handle myself,” Daddy says.
I know he can, and I know Mom can, too. But I can’t have Matt showing up at their workplaces, causing scenes. Frightening clients.
“Just tell me I’m brave. Tell me I’m right?” I plead. “I need a pep talk before I make the call.”
My parents speak to me for twenty minutes, calmly building my defense, encouraging me, and then my mother is crying, wishing she could be with me, and my dad starts next, saying he should have known, that he’s failed me.
Before I know it, I’m bawling, Ari is bawling because none of this is normal, and she probably has gas, and—
And there’s a big, worried guy wrapping his arms around us and mouthing, “What should I do?”
I don’t know what he can do. Nothing, I guess, but it feels amazing to lean on something physical, something warm and solid that wraps my baby and me in strong, safe arms. “Just be here,” I whisper.
Isn’t that pitiful? I’m more comfortable with a stranger than the man who was my boyfriend, then my husband and the father of my daughter?
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jasper vows.
And in the midst of all the terrible things and the tears, I find a little spark of hope. A little ember of joy.
I wish I’d met Jasper Wainwright three years ago, I realize, and I’m so shocked at myself for thinking such a thing.
But it’s too late. Now I’ve thought about it, and I can’t unthink it.
Knowing he’ll stick by me gives me the strength to hang up and dial Matt’s number.
“OH, THANK GOD!” MATT’S voice is broken, simultaneously tearful and relieved, trailed by a gasp of thankfulness. “Baby, where are you? I’ve been phoning hospitals and police stations all over the state! My God, are you in a ditch somewhere?”
“We’re okay.” I get the words out, and then my throat locks up.
He sounds so worried, so sweet and loving.
My heart tugs into a whirlwind of happy memories, of the beautiful moments we shared, of how much fun we’ve had.
Of the way his voice broke when he read his vows at our wedding, with all the love and emotion we’d built together.
“Well, where are you? Is Arianna all right?” Matt demands.
“She’s okay.”
I know I sound flat. Maybe shaky. I know Jasper is right outside the door. I feel myself weakening. Maybe this has “scared him straight.” If Matt is this worried, isn’t that proof he loves me?
From outside in the hall, I hear Jasper’s pacing footsteps. He’s worried about me.
The stranger I met last night, who took me in, fed me, clothed me, and protected me from leering strangers, was there when I ran from this “kind, loving, worried” man. It makes me take a breath, and in the silence, Matt grows impatient.
“If you’re okay, why the hell aren’t you home? Why did you disappear? If this is a prank, Loretta, I swear to—”
My brain shuts off as the volume shifts, and the tone changes. Stress turns to anger. I mean, I understand that. I would be angry, too, if Matt disappeared without warning.
“I know you’re angry.” My voice is just flat. I know the angry waves that are rolling, all too well. Matt never stops until he’s ready to stop. But not this time. My quiet monotone halts him. I keep going, seizing the opening. “You’re angry all the time.”
“Well, yeah, of course I’m angry when my wife runs out, says she’ll drive around the block, and then vanishes overnight!”
“I left because you were angry. You kicked the crib. You were screaming. Out of control, all because we lost a babysitter. Life happens.” My backbone stiffens up with the distance between us.
I look at my knees as I perch on the end of the bed, and my eyes fix on the bruises.
They’re not from beatings, but they’re from shoving and pushing, from his impatient, angry gestures.
The bruises on my arms are from his fingers digging and biting into my skin, from being shaken and slammed into walls while he screams in my face.
Matt says I’m clumsy, and he’s right. I’ve gotten more clumsy and less confident, always tired, always on edge.
“You’re always tired. Always on edge. Me, too. That’s life right now. That’s life with a new baby. That’s life with work, and working at home is hard, too.”
“Sitting around on your lazy—”
“I am not lazy. I work as many hours as you do, at different jobs! I work more when you think about it. You clock out, come home, and I’m still cooking, washing, cleaning, and taking care of the baby.
I’m still up in the night, feeding her, changing her, and soothing her back to sleep.
I work eighteen or twenty-hour days, and do it while making sure a helpless child survives.
You put her in danger when you’re angry.
You shove me and shake me when you’re mad. That’s not okay.”
“I never—”
“That’s. Not. Okay.” Something steely seeps into my normally placating voice.
Matt must be startled. He’s silent for a beat, and then his tone changes, crawling and sweet. “You’re right. You are totally right, Loretta. I’ve been a stressed, angry, tired jerk. It’ll never happen again.”
“That’s right. I’m not going to let it happen again. I’m not coming h—” I swallow over the word home. “I’m not coming back.”
“What? Loretta! I made one little mistake. You’re just going to quit on us? I thought you said you didn’t believe in divorce? You’re the one who wanted to live this modern suburbanite bullshit?”
“Being afraid in your home, being afraid of someone you love—” I choke on the words and realize that yes, I do still love him, but not all of him.
I can’t love a monster who abuses his wife and endangers his baby.
“I am covered in bruises, Matt. It’s not one little mistake.
What if the crib had tipped over last night?
What if you’d grabbed my arm when I was holding Ari, and I’d dropped her? ”