A Good Book

All was quiet in the apartment except for an occasional moan of protest from the building itself as though it resented its deterioration into a shabby old building with “rooms for rent.” The rooms also had seen better days. In this particular apartment though small splashes of color here and there in the form of pictures or some useless knickknack gave the impression that one person at least sympathized with the building. That person sat curled up in a greying overstuffed easy chair looking as faded and worn as the chair itself. Kate was dressed in faded jeans and an old work shirt with her long brown hair pulled into a messy pony tail. At twenty one, she might have passed for a teenager if her dark brown eyes hadn’t given her away. They no longer held the sparkle of life they had just a few years ago. Still as she strained to read the last few pages of her book in the dim apartment lighting, there did seem to be a tiny flicker of something deep inside those haunted brown eyes.

Kate reached the last paragraph, clinging to and cherishing each and every word in an effort to retain that spark. Finally, as if parting from a very dear friend, she gently closed the back cover. She leaned her head back and let a small sigh escape. It had been a good story, she thought. The heroine had run a gauntlet of obstacles and still emerged the victor. Through it all she had never given up on life, love and most importantly, her dreams. Kate wished she could be as brave but she was not. She had given up a long time ago. The realities of life had left no room for dreams.

There was a time when Kate had dared to dream.  She had come to this little factory town filled with hope for a bright and beautiful future with a man she loved more than life itself. More importantly he loved her in return. The girl had a pretty low opinion of herself and never thought anyone would ever love her. So it amazed her when three years ago he had told her he loved her and asked her to marry him. At that point in her life that was all she had ever really dreamed for - to love and be loved in return.

Duke was not classically good looking but like the antiheroes in the movies of the 1970s he was striking with his long curly black hair and twinkling dark blue eyes.  Short and muscular, clad in the uniform of that era, tight jeans and a tshirt, he had immediately caught her attention. He was quite the charmer, asking her tons of questions and actually listening to her. He was an expert at making her feel special. 

He had  a steady job at the local factory and while they would never be rich, they could look forward to a comfortable life together. She got pregnant on the honeymoon and he was ecstatic. They found a cute little house in the country to rent and she spent her days nesting while he worked. At night they would cuddle in bed and while still in the glow of new love made plans for what they were sure would be the perfect future.

Still, even as they made their plans the factory where he worked was slowly exhaling its last gray stream of smoke. She should have known when she dropped him off at work that last day. Although it was a warm sunny day she felt an icy shiver as she watched him walk out of the sunshine into the dark ominous factory. Later that night Duke returned home drunk, pink slip still in hand, one of the first casualties of the dying factory.

Kate had always known Duke liked to drink. Sometimes he drank too much but this was not unusual in factory towns. The giant factory that had kept the town alive over the years had produced more than automobile parts. Two generations of alcoholics had been spawned in its noisy dirty shadow. She had heard stories about how her father-in-law had once been a hard core alcoholic but the love of a good woman had saved him. Her mother-in-law often recounted how she had told him he’d have to choose between her or the bottle. Amazingly, he stopped drinking right then, cold turkey.  Kate had foolishly believed that if Duke’s drinking began causing problems their love would be enough to stop him. 

Sadly, this was not to be. With so much time on his hands Duke turned more and more to the bottle. In his drunkenness he began to turn his anger at life towards her. Kate wondered at times if she was the only woman who had to face the abuse of the man she loved. Or had the factory produced an epidemic of violence as it coughed out its dying breaths. Sadly she had no friends to ask. She had lost touch with the ones she had before moving to be with him. Then she had been so wrapped up with being a newly wed and later a new mother that she’d never made any friends here. Besides, wasn’t her husband supposed to be all she needed?

Kate shook these thoughts from her head and glanced at the clock. One thirty. She knew she should be in bed by now for her day would begin in a few hours with the hungry cry of their baby. Still, she hesitated, wondering if she should wait up for him, and wondering what her waiting would bring. She decided that she may as well wait in bed. Perhaps she could even sleep a little before he returned, although lately sleep was hard to come by. Most of all she hated this time right before falling asleep when her mind raced with doubts and fears and “what ifs.” 

Kate tossed and turned, fighting for release until at last she felt the beginning of a floating sensation that meant sleep was near. It was at that moment a crash jolted her back to wakefulness. She heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Her body went instantly rigid, muscles tensed. Duke was home. She heard him yelling for her and cursing as he stumbled in the darkness. She was on her feet instantly, crossing the room soundlessly in an effort to reach him before he entered yelling and woke the baby, sleeping soundly in the crib beside their bed. She met him at the bedroom doorway and hissed at him to be quiet as she softly closed the door behind her.

Kate’s heart felt heavy as she stood before Duke. Despite the fact that by now she knew what to expect, she still felt her heart break upon seeing him like this once again, drunk and disheveled, so different from the man she had fallen in love with. Perhaps the hardest thing to bear were his eyes. Those beautiful big sky blue eyes that once twinkled with laughter and mischief were now squinted, dull and lifeless, crisscrossed with tiny red veins. She was filled with disappointment and regret and worse, anger and disgust.

As drunk as he was, Duke still seemed to sense her feelings and was immediately on the defensive. “Watcha looking at?” he slurred. “Aintcha happy to see me?”

She bit back the angry accusations she wanted to hurl at him. Why was he so late? Did he spend the last of his unemployment check on booze? Didn’t he realize how risky it was for him to be out driving his car drunk? The court had already taken his licence away for previous DUIs. Next time he’d go to jail for sure. Then what would she and the baby do? 

Instead Kate turned away from him and scanned the room for her cigarettes. She saw them sitting on the table next to her book and walked over and pulled one from the pack. With trembling hands she lit it and turned back to him. For a moment they eyed each other like two wary dogs, each afraid to make the first move. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Duke asked half jokingly, half angrily. “Whatcha been doing all night?”

“Just waiting for you to get home.” Kate responded warily.

She saw his bloodshot eyes scan the room and land on her book. His eyes narrowed and took on a dangerous glint. He grabbed the book and held it under her nose. She tried to grab it away from him and that set him off.

“You - with your nose always stuck in a book. Ain't got no time for me anymore. I’ve had enough. You hear me girl?” He shoved her back with his free hand. Kate was trembling all over now, partly from fear and partly from anger. She knew she had to keep herself from screaming back at him. It was hard, so hard, but she clamped her mouth shut and remained silent. That seemed to infuriate him even more.

“Watsa matter? Ain’tcha got nuthin to say for yourself? I’ll show you what I think of you and your goddam book!” and with that he began to savagely rip apart the book.

She suppressed a cry and clenched her fist at her side so tightly she could feel the nails biting into her flesh. He tore away at her old friend, ripping out pages and flinging them around the room.

 When all that was left of the book was an empty shell he tossed it back on the table and said, “Look at the mess you made. You make me sick.”

An angry tear escaped unbidden and slid down her cheek as she bent to crush out her cigarette. It was then that she finally lost control. Kate stood up slowly and said, “YOU make ME sick!” as her open hand cracked against his cheek. 

For a moment they both looked at each other in amazement and shock. Then before she knew what was happening she was thrown to the floor by the force of his punch. Suddenly Duke was on top of her, pinning her arm under his knees. As his fist smashed against the side of her head she could see his face, flushed and hideous in anger. She saw the next blow coming and she closed her eyes tightly. She didn’t try to fight back. She already knew that he was too strong to fight. She laid there limply, tensing only when she felt another blow coming as he hit her over and over.

Kate began to softly cry, the pleading whimpering of a wounded puppy. Perhaps Duke heard her because the blows suddenly ceased. She opened her eyes, eyes so dark and full of pain that, as they connected with Duke’s, he seemed to shrink back from what he saw in them. He pushed himself off her, rose and stumbled, swearing softly, into the bedroom. 

Kate heard him fall into their double bed and prayed for unconsciousness to take him. Mercifully it soon did. Still, she waited until she heard the comforting sound of his steady snoring before she dared to move. Slowly she rose from the floor and crept into the bedroom to check on the baby, still blissfully asleep. She tiptoed from the bedroom and made her way to the bathroom. She splashed cool water on her face and looked into the cracked mirror above the sink. Her lip might be a little swollen from that first punch, but all in all he’d done a pretty good job. He was quite skillful at aiming his fist at the side of her head, just above the ears, where her hair would cover any visible evidence. 

Kate walked wearily back into the livingroom, eased her body onto the couch and lit a cigarette. She carefully placed the rest of the pack and her lighter within reach. She knew better than to attempt to sleep again. In the past she would have lain awake all night, crying and replaying the fight over and over in her mind, trying to figure out what she should have done to prevent it. Not tonight though. Tonight she was strangely dry eyed. A new strength began to swell within her as she realized she was done. Done with thinking his love was enough. Done with hoping her love could save them both. It was time for her to leave. 

Kate began making plans. She quietly dressed and then gathered together everything she and the baby would need. Once it was all stowed in her car, she began to panic. Where could she go? She thought of the  friends and family she’d left back home and wished that she would have stayed in touch with them. It began to dawn on her that perhaps that was the reason Duke never encouraged her to do so. She had never told anyone about the abuse because she was ashamed. Now she was beginning to realize that it wasn’t her shame to carry. It would be hard, but maybe it was time to open up to those who loved her and ask for help. 

The sun was starting to rise and she heard the baby stirring. Kate fed and changed her and strapped her in the car seat. As she moved to leave she spotted what was left of her book on the table. She tossed it in the trash. It was time to start a new story.