Читать книгу Addy's Redemption: A Novel - Juliana Ormsby - Страница 7

Chapter I

Lifting the Veil

Addy glanced around the living room, noticing she had left her needlework on the wing chair by the fireplace. As she had done so many thousands of times during her marriage to Lionel, Addy whispered to herself, “I’d better put that away before Lionel gets home.”

Lionel loved order. Part of his obsession had come from his having served briefly in the military. He could not bear to have anything out of place. Although they could have well afforded to hire a housekeeper, Lionel always emphasized that because Addy did not work, she was responsible for keeping the place spotless. On one level, Addy believed this was a fair bargain, but Lionel was extreme in his demands. He expected, without exception, a picture-perfect house, shirts pressed and starched as if they had come from the laundry, beautiful meals on the dining room table at six o’clock sharp, children’s faces scrubbed and shining, and newspaper and slippers waiting for the Master when he arrived home from work. After all, had he not provided Addy a fine home with an all-electric kitchen, three bedrooms, and a rumpus room?

Once Addy left her job to get married she became, essentially, a scullery maid. Most neighbors seemed not to suspect what her life was really like. On the rare occasions when company came to her impeccable house for unforgettable dinners, they raved about the “perfect” Addy. Lionel would puff up with pride, give his wife a perfunctory peck on the cheek and boast, “That’s my Addy-girl.”

Addy’s mother and father had been in a gruesome car crash when she was only three years old. Her maiden aunts, Sophia and Hazel, obligated to be her caretakers, always clucked about how fortunate it was that Addy had not been in the car. Sometimes, when she was in her deepest depression, Addy wished she hadn’t been spared. On the night of the accident, Sophia and Hazel were babysitting for little Addy. Her parents were on their way home from a Christmas party they had attended at the home of Dad’s new boss. Although her parents rarely left Addy with a sitter, Daddy had probably felt an obligation to attend the gathering despite the inclement weather. All Addy ever knew about the accident was “black ice; dead on arrival.”

Sometimes she repeated these words over and over again in her head. Because she was a precocious child with a wide vocabulary and lucid mind, she continued to have foggy memories and sensations of her lovely parents. Daddy was a tall, slender, dark-haired man with twinkling brown eyes and warm smile; Mommy a pretty, brown-haired woman with bright green eyes and an equally beautiful smile. Of course, Addy had seen photographs of her parents, but she was convinced she actually remembered them. Some nights as she drifted off to sleep, a wave of comfort and security washed over her. She was sure it was Mommy and Daddy’s love. They doted on the child they had tried so hard to conceive. Life was complete when their sweet Addison was born. After their cruel and senseless death, Addy quietly seethed with rage--why were her joyful, healthy parents ripped so violently from her life? Why did she end up living in a sterile, guilt-ridden environment with her old-maid aunts, Sophia and Hazel? They were Daddy’s sisters and Addy’s only living relatives. Dutifully, they took over raising the frisky, chubby, happy little Addison. Oh, her life before the accident had been so good. After that, a small leech was persistently sucking the vitality from her soul. Sometimes, Addy dared to wish she had been put up for adoption; maybe she might have had a fair shake at having some normal parents. She would immediately ask God to forgive her because, after all, her aunts did the best they could.

Living with two cheerless Catholic spinsters, who probably should have entered a cloistered nunnery, Addy was clueless about the opposite sex; and the aunts made certain she stayed that way. They always lectured her that it took only thirty seconds to ruin your life. Addy never really understood what that meant, but she knew it had something to do with not being alone with a boy. When she finally realized the aunts were talking about the amount of time it takes to conceive a baby, she was already engaged to Lionel. He gave her a Catholic marriage manual that discussed “conception.” As Addy now looked back on that book, she laughed aloud. Copulation was for procreation. A boy should not slide down a banister because he may inadvertently commit a sin of sexual arousal. At the time, Addy accepted this crock of bullshit as the way things are with everyone. Yet, she often wondered if her parents had conducted their lives in that manner. She remembered them as being so happy, and rather than naming her after a saint, they chose the name “Addison.” One thing Addy did like about herself was her name. It suggested that Mom and Dad were a loving, bright couple looking forward to raising an optimistic, confident girl. Oh, if they could see what she had allowed herself to become.

Addy had graduated from college with high honors, but the aunts were growing older and frailer so it was now her responsibility to take care of them. Often Addy wished she was a strong, independent person like her secret friend, Helena Kurowski, Addy’s favorite classmate throughout their education at St. Mary’s Catholic School for Girls. Helena took shit from no one and always lectured Addy that she should not feel obligated to the aunts; she owed them nothing. After all, it wasn’t Addy’s fault that her parents died in a car wreck. Helena begged Addy to move to New York so they could find jobs and get an apartment together.

The aunts never approved of Helena and literally forbade Addy to see her friend outside of school. Helena’s parents were divorced, and Helena lived with her mom, Mary. God only knows where the father had gone. In the eyes of Addy’s aunts, both Mary and Helena were “damaged goods,” but this view of Helena and her mom just did not make sense to Addy. Mary worked very hard as a nurse, went faithfully to Mass every Sunday, and did not have men in her life. It wasn’t Helena’s or her mom’s choice for the dad to have left them. True to her word, Helena moved to New York City, and Addy eventually lost touch with her. As Addy grew older, she often wondered what her life might have been like if she had dumped “the two old bags” and moved to New York with Helena.

In spite of her resentment toward her aunts, dutiful, well-bred Addy dared not abandon them. She despised Hazel and Sophia for sheltering her so much. If they had not, maybe she could have found the happiness she suspected her parents had known. Now she was well into her twenties and could not pursue work in her field because she had to stay at home and look after the aunts. Theirs was a small, backward Connecticut town with few opportunities for employment so Addy had to settle for a job as a clerk in an office supply company. Yes, here was the perfect, respectable, sterile environment for the nice Catholic girl Sophia and Hazel had raised. Inside, Addy raged with hatred for the two old bitches.

When Addy was a young girl, Sophia and Hazel frequently entertained porky, self-indulgent, egotistical priests after Mass. It sickened Addy to watch them disgustingly gobbling the pastries and coffee cakes she had baked. In fact, baking was the one thing Addy knew she could do well. She often dreamed of opening her own bakery one day, but she knew that would never happen. She just wasn’t spunky enough to strike out on her own. Besides, she was not a lucky girl. Things never work out for people who are born unlucky.

Celibate Catholics often stir up a hungry sexual undertone when in each other’s company. Something about these Sunday morning gatherings was repugnant, but naïve, young Addy could not put her finger on it. All she knew was she had to don her finest frocks, and her aunts dolled up as well. The priests would hold court and be treated like royalty. Sophia and Hazel rarely laughed when they were alone with Addy, but when the priests came a-calling, the aunts behaved like silly schoolgirls. They hung on to the fathers’ every word, giggling at the oddest moments. It was so confusing. Some of the priests ravished young Addy with lecherous glances. Of course, many of them did not care about her at all because, as she later figured out, they favored men or even young boys. How did she not know about homosexuality? She was in shock when she found out that there are men who prefer men, and, even more curious, women who love women. Of course, Addy had heard the expressions “fairy” and “sissy,” but she thought that meant men who acted effeminate. Girls who hated to do things girls do, as wearing pretty dresses and playing with dolls were “tomboys,” but Addy, in her wildest dreams, never imagined some of these girls would grow up fancying other girls. She remained in the dark about this unusual way of life well into her thirties. By then she had read about famous creative bohemians who followed their hearts at all costs. In real life, however, she had never met anyone of this persuasion.

One Sunday after Mass, Father Jean-Paul Roberge brought his younger brother, Lionel, to the aunts’ house after Mass. In retrospect, Addy suspected this was a pre-arranged meeting, although Sophia and Hazel would never admit to it. Addy was getting older, and the aunts realized she needed a good Catholic man to take care of her. Sophia and Hazel had lived on money inherited from their parents and their brother’s life insurance, but aside from the house, very little remained for Addy. Although Addy had a job, it paid not nearly enough for her to support herself. The aunts were enamored with Lionel. After all, he was a successful Catholic businessman who could definitely be trusted with their pure niece.

Lionel began courting Addy, frequently delighting the aunts with candy or flowers. Addy was rarely alone with him, but a few times when he came for dinner, and the aunts had gone upstairs to bed, he held her hand, put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed her. Although Lionel was not bad looking and had a muscular build, Addy wasn’t particularly attracted to him. Admittedly, when she received these first kisses, Addy felt unfamiliar tingling in the area of her body where she received monthly visits from Mr. Red.

She had been only ten when she panicked to see blood in her panties. Embarrassed by having to speak about the subject, her aunts hastily reported that from then on, Mr. Red would visit her every 28 days. While Hazel rushed to the drugstore to buy a sanitary belt and napkins, Sophia forewarned Addy that with Mr. Red arriving every month, she would be able to have children. Could this be the reason why girls, especially those who had begun menstruation, could not be alone with boys? While Addy made this connection, she was still unaware of what a man and woman had to do to make a baby.

After seven months of courting her, Lionel presented Addy with a small diamond engagement ring. Although in her heart of hearts Addy knew Lionel was not the kind of man she had always dreamed of marrying, what else could she do? When Lionel first kissed Addy, it felt to her that she had wet her pants. Burning up inside, face flushed, mouth salivating profusely, Addy just closed her eyes and accepted the kisses. Lionel himself didn’t awaken these new sensations; the response arose automatically. It could have been any man kissing her. In fact, Lionel often repulsed her, particularly when he started ranting about his distaste for non-Catholics. He was a boorish, unsophisticated know-it-all who never questioned the teachings of the Catholic Church. Addy wondered if he had read any books by the literary masters or listened to classical music. She, on the other hand, kept a secret diary of poetry and nourished her heart with stories of true love, like that of Elizabeth and Robert Barrett-Browning. She knew that romance like theirs came along only rarely, and Addy was, after all, an unlucky girl. Feeling her options in life were altogether limited, she floated along blindly as the aunts prepared a small bridal shower in anticipation of Addy’s new life as a homemaker. Lionel had enough money to plan a rather lavish wedding at the elegant Westport Inn. In spite of the shallowness of his character, he did know how to put on the dog to impress people.

When the day of her wedding arrived, Addy was literally sleepwalking. Surely, this couldn’t be happening. At any moment, Mommy and Daddy would swoop down from Heaven, whisking her away with them. From the books and papers they had left behind, Addy knew her parents were erudite, polished people. If they had lived, they would certainly chide her for abandoning her dreams and allowing the aunts to force her into settling for Lionel as a spouse. After all, he was not of her caliber.

Remarkably, Lionel’s eyes shone with pride as his brother, Father Roberge, escorted Addy the virgin bride, down the long aisle of St. Michael’s Cathedral. This was, in fact, the first time Lionel ever noticed how truly beautiful Addy was. She had always dressed modestly, wore no make-up, and was awkward and shy. With her long chestnut hair swept sophisticatedly into a French braid, Addy wore a crown of flowers fashioned from dainty seed pearls and crystal beads with a short veil covering her face. The same glistening crystals and pearls adorned the entire top of Addy’s wedding dress. Cascading from the pointed bodice were layers and layers of chiffon dotted with the same crystals and pearls. The billowing skirt enveloped Addy’s petite frame. Had Lionel ever noticed that Addy’s figure was perfectly proportioned 34-24-34? In one of her long, graceful glove-covered arms, Addy cradled a Bernhardt bouquet of calla lilies. For the first and only time in her life, Addy felt like a princess; a prima-ballerina; a prom queen. She blushed to think that she might be, after all, a pretty girl.

As Addy approached the altar, a whisper of awe brushed over the crowd. Lionel could hardly wait until the priest finished the Mass so he could lift the veil and own all that this culminating act symbolized to a man like him. As Lionel lifted the veil, Addy’s large green eyes widened with fear and sudden revelation. She now belonged to Lionel for better or worse, and after the wedding, she would officially be his wife and have to share a bed with him. She received a beautiful long lace nightgown and peignoir set for her shower. It finally dawned on her what these fancy bedroom clothes meant.

Lionel had chosen filet mignon for the wedding reception menu. This may be the last time Lionel would splurge on such an expensive meal. As Addy tried to swallow a small bite of steak, she felt as if her throat was closing. The idea of a honeymoon with Lionel frightened Addy to death. Perhaps Lionel provided this swanky wedding as payment for the right to ravish her barbarically that night and forever more. Sophia and Hazel, eyes dewy with tears of joy, had absolutely no clue.

* * * * *

“That’s my Addy-girl.” Lionel always said that in front of company and gave her a pretentious peck on the cheek. Addison cringed inside from his touch. Of course, that did not mean she had stopped being available for sex. She dared not refuse him. When he was ready for her, he would pinch her bottom hard, sadistically twisting the skin, and she’d awaken, legs spread, ready to receive his nasty member. Lord knows he probably had other women when he was on his business trips, and maybe even closer to home. Addy hoped he would never give her syphilis. She had read that the disease could make a person blind, crippled, and always led to an early demise.

Once she risked bringing up the topic of using rubbers, even though it is a sin for Catholics to practice birth control. Lionel, of course, turned things around to make her look as if she was the offending party.

“How do you know about safes? Don’t you trust me? You think I’ve been unfaithful? You call yourself a CATHOLIC? You know I live by the seventh commandment, in case you forgot it, ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery’. How dare you question my faithfulness? Maybe YOU are the one who’s running around. I see how you look at the lawn boy. You lust after him; I know it. I’ll bet my last nickel that you’ve already fucked him. How do I know what you do all day when I’m at the office working hard to support your cheating ass? You whore! Now I know why you know about rubbers.”

His anger escalated out of control. Eyes narrowed; lips clenched; body grew taut.

Oh please no, thought Addy desperately as she witnessed Lionel’s all too familiar demonic transformation. Lionel’s voice became louder and louder; the insults more offensive and lewd. Then he smacked her hard across the face. The blow left an angry red welt on her right cheek, and Addy whimpered like an injured puppy. As Lionel began to calm down, he cradled her in his arms, tenderly kissing her bruised cheek. Addy loathed him and the ugly scenario that had taken place countless times over the years. She knew well what would come next. He would take her by the hand, lead her to their bedroom, lift her skirt, unzip his fly, and fuck her. Sometimes he would force his penis up her anus, then immediately after, push it into her vagina, then her anus again, rhythmically alternating between her two openings.

Addy suffered repeated urinary tract and bladder infections. Although the urologist may have suspected why she ended up in his office so frequently, he was always tactful about it. He advised her to use a squeeze bottle filled with a sterile washing solution every time she urinated. In spite of her fastidiousness, the infections continued. The urologist finally prescribed long-term, low-dose antibiotics. She hated taking the medicine because she developed yeast infections and a raw stomach as side effects, but those problems were better than being in pain every time she peed.

It had been almost twenty-five years since Lionel first lifted the veil. Addy knew she was too intelligent and sane to put up with the rapes and beatings, yet she had no way to escape. It was like her hopeless dream of having her own bakery. The dreams of unlucky girls never come true. Such unfortunate souls do not have the confidence or spunk necessary to change their lives.

A few magazines were brave enough to publish articles about wife beating. Addy could identify with the women criticized for staying in abusive relationships. Her spirit had died long ago, so what did it matter if her shell was battered? Lionel had also indirectly threatened her life. After he beat her then cuddled her, he would whisper, “Now Addy-girl would never think of leaving her daddy, would she? She knows what happens to naughty little wives who try to run away, doesn’t she? There’s nowhere for them to hide. You know it’s a man’s world. Men stick together. Have you ever heard of any guy arrested for belting his wife? Hey, I know plenty of cops who keep their women in place with a good smack.”

Addy was convinced that no matter where she fled, Lionel would track her down. Because he was such a glad-handed phony, he had associates all over the country. He even had their neighbors and friends fooled. After all, he was a deacon at church, coached Little League baseball, and golfed with his neighborhood buddies and co-workers. Addy learned early on that he didn’t want her to get too close to the women in the small circle of couples they knew. If he found out she had been for coffee or lunch at a neighbor’s, he would fly into a rage, pointing out the housework she had failed to do. Eventually, Addy understood this was his way of keeping her from spilling her guts about the abuse. Addy learned to stay home, working around the house all day and reading women’s magazines when her chores were completed.

As Lionel constantly reminded her, she was so lucky to have a nice house and a beautiful yard maintained by Tim, the neighborhood youth Lionel had accused her of fucking. Yes, Addy did use those words in her head, keeping herself entertained by her rebellious thoughts. Wouldn’t Aunt Sophia and Aunt Hazel have died a much earlier death if she had dared let the “F” word slip from her lips? Actually, she had never heard the “F” word until Lionel used it with her. Addy was puzzled how a man who portrayed himself as an upstanding Catholic could use such filthy language in the bedroom.

Addy eventually settled upon the opinion that Lionel was crazy. He fashioned himself after the imaginary “Father Knows Best” radio program where the wise, infinitely patient, and loving dad would come home to his happy, zany family. In Lionel’s house, they had to be seated around the dining room table at precisely six o’clock, no exceptions. Addy and the children internalized all of Lionel’s rules in order to keep the peace.

Things might have been okay, really, if only Lionel were nicer. Addy would love to pamper a good man. She imagined her mom had probably spoiled her dad because he looked like a man who treated his wife lovingly and respectfully. At least that is what Addy gathered from her aunts’ descriptions of her father. In fact, Sophia and Hazel had often shed tears over how much they missed their little brother and how sweet he had been to them.

One afternoon, Addy was reading a true story about a woman whose husband beat her regularly, even while she was pregnant. At least Lionel’s attacks lightened up while Addy was expecting. She often wished she could have been one of those Catholic baby-machines constantly knocked-up so Lionel would be less violent. Addy had three children: Peter, James, and little Mary. Although Lionel was excessively strict and militaristic with the kids, he did refrain from hitting them.

Lionel seemed to time Addy’s thrashings when the children were not around. He frequently revealed his demonic temper to the children by shouting and slamming things, but he never laid a hand on them. Maybe he sensed that if he hurt the kids, his submissive little Addy would rise up, a wounded mother bear, and somehow find the courage to rip him to pieces. The children did learn early on though, to “walk on eggs” so as not to set Daddy off. What if they weren’t asleep on the nights he attacked Addy? Whenever that thought rose in her mind, Addy immediately dismissed it. Her children were her reason to live; her angels; saviors; her precious charges, and she tried to shield them from pain and ugliness.

The magazine article Addy was reading that afternoon went on to describe the many horrible things this man did. If he did not like what his wife prepared for dinner, he would smash the plate of food on the floor. At least that had never happened to Addy. She learned to cook exactly what Lionel favored so he usually approved of the meals presented before him.

Some compassionate nuns helped the abused woman to escape to a safe place, but the woman soon went back to her husband who eventually beat her to death. This story made Addy’s stomach turn, yet she could understand. When you feel you have lost all hope, it is sometimes easier to lie down and give up.