Читать книгу The Look of Love - Jill Egizii - Страница 9

Once she slams the front door behind her Anna leans against the thick sturdy wood thinking, ‘Thank you, oh thank you, thank you.’ She’s fully aware things could have been far worse. Anna recognizes that in other countries even today women are dragged from their homes and murdered in the street for less. But this isn’t Baghdad. This is the capitol city…law and order rules here. Anna thinks ‘I’m going to report those little snot-nosed wanna-be cops… how dare they…don’t they know who—ah yes. Of course.’ She’s no longer the wife of one of the wealthiest attorneys in the city, in the state even. No longer Mrs. Reinhardt, wife of prominent attorney and philanthropist…well fair’s fair. Now that Anna’s gone Erik will no longer be a philanthropist. It was Anna who managed all the charity work and donations. As his wife, his better half she’d become a professional volunteer, one of the ladies who lunch.

As the full impact of the day’s events sink in Anna slides to the floor, relieved when the sturdy ground lands under her. What was the story with the cops? A gentle signal sent by Erik to remind her what it’s like to be out from under his wing of protection?

Officer Ricky and his pal obviously weren’t serious. Otherwise she’d be in custody, down at the station facing charges. What charges would they be...battery…assault at worst? Would his accusations require proof ? Would Erik need to come forward to display his alleged bruises or broken bones? Any judge in the world seeing her five-foot, hundred nothing next to his six-six in cowboy heels would look at him cross eyed for wasting the court’s time… right? Anna could no longer guess what Erik might be capable of, what else he was up to.

Impotent tears of rage come as she sits with her back pressed up against the front door. Sobs wrack her as the fragility of her position, the limits of her resources, creep into full realization. Her impulse is to call someone, but who? Her parents are in Florida. Besides, all she’d do is worry them. Her brother…well, her brother now worked for Erik at the firm. He’d be hamstrung by the new house, the arrival of the twins, and his wife’s predilection for shoes; expensive shoes. Brother or no, it’s unlikely he’d threaten his cushy position to help her at the moment.

Her sister all the way in Chicago…she’d only say ‘I told you so.’ Anna’s sister Katherine despised Erik on sight. In the few weeks Anna brought him around before their wedding, her sister Katherine practically growled at him whenever he entered a room. When Anna pressed her, Katherine said “I just feel it, he gives me the creeps. There’s something seriously not right with that man sister. My advice, run as far as you can in the opposite direction.”

Of course, it was easy for Katherine to say. Even back then Katherine was already well on her way to following in Mom’s footsteps. Twenty years ago, when Anna married Erik, Katherine’s husband ran for state representative. Part of Erik’s appeal way back then was that he seemed to have the same potential. He appeared to be cut from the same cloth as men like her father and brother-in-law, only more raw and flashy. In fact, Katherine’s husband was no longer a mere state representative as the girls’ father had been. He’d eventually won a seat as a state’s senator in Washington D.C. Considering her current hysterical state, Anna reasons that calling her sister is unwise.

Anna needs someone to encourage her to scream and yell, someone to feed her vodka (heavy on the orange juice) and stay until she falls asleep. Anna needs a friend. She dials Janet, but no answer. She doesn’t bother with a message. Anna needs help but only too late she realizes the bulk of her relationships, her friendships somehow revolve around Erik, either through his business, his political intrigues, or his farm and livestock interests.

Nearly everyone Anna spends any time with, beyond planning charity events or sharing a fundraiser table, is the hired help. Housekeepers at one time came and went through a revolving door. Anna eventually gave up on the idea of ‘help.’ After she’d get a new one all set up in the family routine and with good rapport, Erik would lose his temper or otherwise scare them away. Anna wasn’t particularly interested in the details.

Back when Anna’s hopes were still high, when her kids were toddlers, there was Dorthea, who stayed longer than any others. Dorthea was the one who found Anna a few times a week hiding her tears from the kids by crying in the back basement stairwell. Dorthea, unlike the rest of the planet, was not fooled by the grandiose size of the house or the garages full of shiny cars.

“What’d that man do this time? Huh?” Dorthea’d ask. “You know, one of these times he’s going to make that leap from shouting and waving his arms in the air to putting his hands on you…or one of those babies of yours. Before that, you better stand up and muzzle him once and for all. Show him who’s boss around here. He’s nothing but a man. You’re a woman, and that means by nature you’re stronger and smarter.” Evidently Dorthea’s knew more about Erik than Anna had realized.

But Dorthea had been wrong. He never did make that transition. He kept right on yelling and screaming and frothing at the mouth any time his ire was triggered. Anna asked herself all the regular questions following the horror stories she’d seen on Oprah. Anna asked herself time and again if this was abuse? If she was a victim? But because he never hit her and…because she chose him, for better or worse, she couldn’t see herself as a victim.

She most certainly was not a ‘battered wife,’ absolutely not. Anna lived well, travelled, came and went as she pleased…for the most part. She came from a well-to-do, well-educated family. Anna was self assured, not the type likely to fall prey to such…to such… to such…

Early on, the only marital problem Anna thought they had was that Erik ‘didn’t love her enough.’ She’d wheedled and cajoled, went through the entire gamut of Julia Child recipes, lost weight, gained muscle, studied his likes and dislikes, ultimately devoting herself to being the best stepmother (then, eventually, mother) in the world…in repressed hope of winning his respect.

Within weeks of marriage it became all too obvious that he had no respect for her. Once, when she cried because he called her by his first wife’s name in flagrante, he snapped at her, “Oh Christ shut up about it already…don’t act like you didn’t know I was marrying you to get a live-in nanny for my kids. Besides I would never compare you to her, you’ll never live up to her.” Anna remembers thinking at that time…‘I’ll show you.’ She showed him alright. She showed him she was taking on his challenge. She was going to prove him wrong. She intended to make him recognize how worthy and giving and caring she truly was.

Anna sits on the floor of her parents’ entryway absolutely dumfounded at what has become her life. She thinks now of Erik’s first wife, the dead one…as the lucky one. Occasionally she wonders about her death. At the time, in the early eighties, the entire world seemed to be offering alternative cancer cures. Erik chose for his beloved wife of barely four years, the mother of his two infant children, a Laetrile clinic somewhere in South America. After five months the breast cancer allegedly overwhelmed her. But Anna always wondered about this mysterious woman whose place in life she took over. The woman’s shoes were still warm when nineteen-year old Anna stepped into them.

Such thoughts are not helping her get off the floor. In fact, she’s rather encouraged to sprawl out further, get lower, sink deeper into feeling sorry for herself. How can her world be crashing in around her like this?

Anna spent so much of her time over the last few years feeling sorry for herself she’d become a veritable professional. But it was, and is, always in secret. Feeling sorry for herself had become her hidden talent. She never confessed honestly to what was happening, even to Dorthea. They never discussed any of it outright, just inferred in general terms.

When the kids were old enough to go to school Anna recognized she would never get the kind of love she needed, the kind of love she envisioned all her life, the kind of love she wanted from him. So she opted to simply steel herself against Erik. By that time she recognized he would never love her. And, frankly, that was fine. But he did love his children the best he knew how, and Anna could fault him less on that front. On that front, at least, there still seemed to be some hope.

What small portion of his life he spent playing father is what kept her from tearing their family apart. No matter how much she wanted out of their marriage even when she did ‘divorce’ him last time she chose not to rock the boat, not to interference with the sanctity of the Christian household or something like that…Erik had been going through a congregational phase. He must have read somewhere that big zealous churches were somehow good business. Anything that improved his bottom line was considered. The congregation turned out to be an insular community teeming with deformed and diseased relationships, which to Erik was hog heaven.

He is or had been a mostly decent father—particularly to Drew, who at the time of the secret divorce Anna felt needed Erik more than her oldest step-son, Greg. Her predecessor’s oldest, Greg, hadn’t returned since leaving for college three years ago. Greg was raised in the early years when Anna was still striving, still working furiously to win Erik’s love, approval, and respect. She wondered if that striving, that urgency hadn’t somehow made her a better parent, a more engaged mother to the older kids. But her own son Drew, years younger than Greg, somehow turned more to his father than the others. However, Betsy was Anna’s through and through, all out all in. Betsy and Anna together were bugs in a rug.

It was about when Drew and Betsy started school that Anna came to the conclusion she’d been gypped, tricked, ripped off, sold a bottle of snake oil, or somehow been beguiled by him, by her ideas about marriage, by love, or by all three.

Anna felt bereft of love, affection, partnership, teamwork, understanding…things she should have been granted by virtue of his vows. But Anna failed to recognize that simply by virtue of his vows at the altar she had been entitled to be loved, honored, and cherished. She hadn’t needed to earn it, win it, or gain it. Erik promised to offer her these gifts freely, without reservation or judgment; then he failed abysmally. This was one of the few valuable insights she gained from the innumerable counselors, therapists, and ministers they tried over the years.

She lies on the cold tile wondering what Erik could possibly be concocting. A hot stab of fear spreads through her body as the question ‘What is he up to?’ forms in her mind. The marble chill eases the impulsive flames of fear a bit. Her knees are Jell-O. For an instant she’s glad to be sprawled on the entryway floor, saving herself the trouble of falling.

Anna feels threads of speculation roping her down. Her mind throws out questions, each one an anchor. He could be…what if he’s…What do I do if he…He might…He could just…Just inviting the numberless possibilities to mind burdens her so much it’s impossible for her to sit up, stand up, and simply put one foot in front of the other. Truth is, Erik could be up to anything.

That’s the way the whole thing started, after all. From the very beginning Erik had been up to something, alright. Initially, that ‘something’ revealed itself in the shape of a guerilla wedding. He asked her at a fine restaurant, offering a modest promise ring; promising fireworks and full carats within weeks of their first date. At a cocktail party a few weeks later, when asked for the hundredth time in that short span, “So Erik…when’s the big day? Eh? Did you set the date yet?” Erik snapped, “…A week from Sunday.” And that was that. Anna was convinced he was driven by the urgency of his passion for her, his urgency to begin their adventure together.

Anna had thirteen days to plan her wedding, find a church, rent a hall, print and mail invitations—eh, scratch that—announcements. Find a dress, a florist, music, food, and napkins, choose entrees, plan a honeymoon, and decide where they’d live. At the time Erik and the kids were living with his mother. Since his wife’s death in the Bahamian cancer clinic, he’d retired to his mother’s to regroup.

Why was that bizarre wedding not some kind of omen to Anna? No, not entirely true…she was aware of some nagging drawback at the time. She remembers asking him more than once, “Why Erik…why do this in such a hurry?” The only response she recalls was, “Before I change my mind.”

But she thought he was joking. He said it like he was joking. Oblivious to his cruel frankness at the time, Anna felt only vague warning impulses from the back of her mind. Some warning signal…but she was too busy planning the wedding and organizing their life to pursue the reticent alarm buzzing low in the tenders of her gut. She had no time to investigate wild hunches or illogical wondering—at the time, she targeted her skills toward contacting a minister, fielding phone calls, and registering for gifts. It was a mad dash over the threshold, a leap of faith, an adventure, a commitment, a cliff. Anna dove in—fish to water, like the stocked pond past the west pasture.

In a heap on the foyer tile, in a postdusk haze, Anna breathes deep. No magical epiphanies blossom in her mind as she lies penitent and shocked. Right now her impulse is to crawl to bed and get a much needed night’s sleep. Things may or may not look better in the morning…but morning would indeed still come.

In the void before sleep, Anna decides to behave ‘as if’ tomorrow at the house, when she goes to make breakfast. This was an often useful strategy she’d perfected over the years. Behave ‘as if’ he’d never said it; as if he’d not crossed the line, again; as if he’d not taken a brutal swipe, made a bruise, or sucked the wind from her sails with nothing beyond his glare and his words. Never raising a hand or snapping into a lunge. Well no, not never, but rarely, hardly ever, surprisingly isolated instances, considering. Considering how effectively he managed to sap her life force, tapping her like a sugar maple. He continued antagonizing her to keep her emotions boiling so he could leach more of her energy from her.

There were less than a few isolated instances of physical contact from him. A rare swipe or push, but they hadn’t frightened her, rattled her, or confused her in any way. She was almost relieved to have her suppressed suspicions portrayed in flesh, in three dimensions. The confusion descended after the instant confirmation, after the truth was revealed.

This raw truth did not compute with the idea that she’d chosen him. His callousness and narcissism were such a constant surprise and shock, so contrary to the glib and charming man she’d met, that Anna never quite fully believed what she was experiencing. This paradox pinned her there in limbo. How could two such conflicting truths exist? The truth was, once upon a time…she trusted him. Despite her long ago intuition not to trust him with her hopes, Anna made a choice to share her life with him, to confide in him. Admitting that her choice was wrong would take years to fully wrap her mind around.

Admitting that she betrayed her own best interest, her own best potential, by choosing him would have destroyed her back then. Staying with him, growing immune to his faults and weaknesses, compensating for his breaches, filling his gaps, and in general running around plugging up holes in his dike was easier than admitting she’d deluded herself. How had she fooled herself effectively enough to let a man who turned out as he had, to father her children? It took her years to compile enough evidence for logic to overwhelm her emotions and wrench her from delusion.

As she floats in her parents’ empty house in the dark sea before sleep, Anna recalls the precise instant the tide turned. She pinpoints the second the camel’s back broke and she came face to face with the folly of staying married, of staying with him. She registered the cost and the consequence of not leaving Erik, getting the kids away from Erik sooner the instant she recognized in Drew his father’s subtle attack, his father’s derisive words toward her. When she recognized in Andrew’s manner a miniature reproduction of Erik’s conceited tolerance of her, any illusions she’d been secreting away shattered.

Her life irrevocably altered. Her perspective drastically changed the afternoon Anna recognized Erik’s barely tangible sneer on Drew’s face. Two years ago, when Drew turned old enough to play league golf at the country club, the two of them became immensely closer. Anna guessed that Erik encouraged Drew to develop a taste for what Erik considered the finer things in life…expensive cigars, expensive whiskey, expensive meals, and the finest brandies and wines.

When she confronted Erik about Drew being too young to ‘taste’ the wine and whiskey, when she suggested that he was too young to distinguish a ‘true’ Cuban cigar he balked. “Are you crazy?” he asked her. “Do you know how far ahead in life I would have been if I’d had someone to teach me these things…you’re never too young to learn what quality is.” Somewhere in the back of Erik’s mind, he longed to be one of the ‘Park Avenue Set’ from the black and white movies of his childhood.

Erik liked to pretend to know about the best vintages and classic art, but he’d gleaned what little he knew from skimming glossy magazines. He thought of himself at times as a Midwestern branch of the Rat Pack—slick, smooth, and top of the line. Other moments he portrayed himself as some twisted Rhett Butler. She’d heard him brag about confederate roots, boast about being descended from slave owners. And these attitudes were suddenly also a part of Drew when he turned into a real teenager last year.

Of course, because Erik’s favored object of mockery and derision was Anna, she wasn’t sure why she was stunned when Drew turned to strike her in Erik’s fashion. Back then, as Anna’d laid yet another exquisite evening meal on the table, Erik turned away in distaste, asking Drew…“Don’t you want some decent food for a change?” Drew sneered at her, “What, is she trying to make the rest of us as fat as her…please…I’d rather have Steak N Shake Dad. Can we please?” And Erik would get up and reward his son with a chuck on the chin and throw his arms over the boy’s shoulder as they strolled to the Porsche.

That particular evening as the two ‘guys’ turned their backs on her, Anna realized that she’d irrevocably lost some portion of Drew forever. Recognizing this in Drew finally gave her a hint to the true danger of staying as long as she had. She wondered if it was maybe too late to extricate her children from Erik’s overriding negative imprint, and knew they would wear scars despite her strategy of throwing herself on every land mine and into the crevice of every conflict with Erik.

Until that moment she’d mistakenly believed that she stood as a bulwark between Erik’s less exemplary self and the kids for all those years. Coming face to face with the fact that she hadn’t succeeded inspired her push for a real divorce, a true divorce this time. This time he was moving out. Sure, she’d been at her parents for a few months now, but this time it would be fair and not a secret and Anna would have her house…maybe even her restaurant pending the settlement.

Visions of her own kitchen, her own home, her own life lull her as she lies exhausted from the strange day. First being accused of assault and drunkenness, and then being harassed by Cambrige’s finest. To get free is Anna’s focus as she slips into unconsciousness.