The Edge of Sleep (19 page)

“And you stayed with him.”

“I was pregnant then, I had a child on the way. That was the curious thing; in the midst of his rage Carl had not hit me anywhere near the baby. In an odd way that seemed to show he cared about the baby, about us, about our future ... I don’t know, I rationalized it a hundred ways ...”

“And you stayed.”

“Yes, damn it, I stayed! Don’t judge me, John. You don’t know what it’s like to be beaten by someone who’s supposed to love you... It makes you feel so worthless, it makes you feel that you deserve it, it makes you feel it’s your fault.”

“I know,” Becker said simply. There was no special pleading in his voice, just a statement. Karen realized there had not been any harshness in his tone before, either. The judgment was only in her mind. Becker was merely noting, just stating the obvious so they could get on to the next step, as if the process had to be completed no matter what.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s all right.”

“I did stay with him, you’re right. I should have left him then, but it seemed so—so ludicrous that it was happening to me. I wasn’t some welfare mother in the ghetto, I wasn’t a hillbilly with trucks parked in the front yard. Carl was a professional, for God’s sake. He was a radiologist. We weren’t the kind of people this happened to. Plus, I was trained in self-defense. Even when it was happening, while he was hitting me, I told myself, ‘I can break this man in two.’ ”

“It’s not about self-defense, though,” Becker said.

“No, not at first. But it got that way. When Jack was two years old Carl tried to beat me again. The baby was there in the room, watching, and maybe that’s what gave me the courage, I don’t know, but I realized right then that it was going to stop. I kneecapped him and broke his arm ... He never touched me again.”

“But he started on Jack.”

“Not long after that, I think he must have, but I didn’t know it.”

Becker was silent.

“I swear to you, John, I did not know it. I did not. I did not know it.”

Something broke within Karen and she began to cry, quietly at first, and then fully, sobbing, her body shaking with the effort. Becker pulled her even more tightly against him, covering her whole body with his own as she spooned against him.

He let her cry until she had had enough, not trying to hush her or even comfort her beyond his close presence. When she was finished at last Karen felt as if she had returned from a distant place. Her grief had taken her out and away from the present and deep within herself, but now she was back, in a darkened bedroom, on her bed, with the wind pushing at the windowpanes and a strong man pressed against her from behind.

She could not say if the quality of the stillness changed when she stopped sniffling, or if the electric charge of the room had been that way all along and she had only become aware of it. Becker’s body was warm against hers and his skin seemed alive in a way it had not when she was talking about herself. His flesh seemed to lie against her like a creature with a life of its own, as if poised to move whenever she chose. It was up to her entirely, she realized, and the thought gave her a sense of freedom and power.

She reached between her legs and touched him and felt him rise eagerly to her touch. They did not speak, they scarcely moved. Then he was in her from behind and she was clamping the pillow to her mouth once more. This time it was direct and simple without foreplay or patience or tenderness, which was how both of them wanted it. When they finished she had tears on her face once more, but this time for a different reason.

Chapter 12

W
HEN BOBBY AWOKE ON THE
third day of his capture, he knew that he was being watched even before he opened his eyes. He could sense another face close to his, he could hear the hushed, too deliberate movements of someone trying to be quiet that did not make noise so much as they displaced space in a way that he could feel. He kept his eyes closed, pretending to sleep, clinging for a moment to the hope that the hovering someone might be his mother. Perhaps today when he opened his eyes the long nightmare would be over and he would be home in his own bed. He knew it wasn’t so even as he ardently wished for it.

It could only be Dee leaning in close to him, studying him the way she did with that intense look of hers as if she was trying to memorize every detail of his face and body. Sometimes the look would take on tones of puzzlement as if she were trying to square his appearance with the image she had stored in her mind, but she would always come out of it, the wrinkle of skin between her eyebrows relaxing as she reconciled what she saw with what she wanted to see.

From the direction of the door, Bobby heard Ash repositioning himself, then the sibilant hush of Dee telling him to be quiet.

“Don’t wake him,” she whispered. “He’s asleep.”

Ash made a noise in his throat, perhaps laughter. Then Bobby heard sudden sounds of movement from both of them, the door protesting in its frame as Ash pushed off of it, the sound of tiptoed steps, and just as quickly all was silent. Bobby held very still, listening, straining to hear them, but all sounds seemed to have been swallowed up. Had they gone? It seemed inconceivable that they would have left him alone at last, and yet ... nothing, he could hear nothing at all.

He tried to open his eyes just a slit, feeling the eyelids quiver as he eased them apart. He could make out only the sheet under his cheek, the carpet between the bed and the wall where his face was pointed. Pausing, not daring to hope, Bobby let his eyes open farther. He saw nothing before him but the motel wall, the sunlight streaming through the slats of the Venetian blinds to make a pattern of lines on the floor. Ash was not by the door. Dee was not hovering over him.

He lifted his head, almost not daring to move. The room was empty, no sounds came from the bathroom, whose door was open. Bobby sat upright in the bed, then slid his feet to the floor, still not daring to believe. He looked around the room again, wild-eyed.

“Dee?” he whispered. “Ash?”

There came a low, rumbling sound, like the growl of an animal, and Bobby held his breath. It came again, a growl of something large and fierce and close and then Dee popped up from behind the bed, laughing, her hands over her head in a parody of a ravening beast.

“Grrrarrr!” she roared, still laughing. She swept upon Bobby, embraced him, lifted him.

“We fooled you! We fooled you, didn’t we? Admit it, admit it! We fooled him, Ash!”

She bundled him in her arms and buried her face in his neck, kissing and growling. Ash sat up from the floor behind the bed, grinning proudly.

“We fooled you,” Ash declared.

“Oh, look at him. You weren’t really scared, were you? Were you scared. Tommy?”

Bobby pulled away from her, angry and embarrassed.

“We didn’t mean to really scare you.”

Dee hugged him again, but he put his hands against her chest and pushed her away.

“Don’t,” she said.

Bobby ignored the warning in her tone and struggled against her grip.

“Don’t pull away from me,” she said.

Bobby tried to yank his arms free, but she held him firmly in her grip.

“Let go!” he cried.

He kicked at her with his naked feet. His toes barely touched her shin.

“No!” Ash called, aghast.

Bobby didn’t see the blow coming and he was shocked as much by its unexpectedness as by its force. It had to have come from Dee, but when he looked at her with eyes filling with tears, both of her hands still gripped his arms.

“Don’t ever pull away from me,” she hissed. She lowered her face to his, her fingers squeezed his arms so tightly they hurt, but it was her look that frightened Bobby most. Something had happened behind her eyes, something that Bobby could see but not identify. It looked as if someone other than Dee was behind her eyes now. Someone or some thing, crouching behind the deep blue, glaring out at Bobby. Hating him.

“Never, never,” she said, her voice still a hiss.

“Never,” Ash said. He was on his feet now, shaking his head in warning to Bobby.

“I don’t like it,” Dee said.

Bobby sniffed. His nose was running, his eyes were tearing, and he was aware of a ringing in his ears, but he was still too stunned to cry.

“Do you understand?” Dee asked.

“Yes,” said Ash, pumping his head up and down, urging Bobby to agree. “Yes.”

“Do you?”

Bobby nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Imagine how it makes me feel, when you pull away,” Dee said. Bobby noticed that the thing behind her eyes had slithered away and she was Dee again, a little wound up, a little too enthusiastic, but still a woman, still the same person he knew.

Bobby nodded in agreement once more.

“After all I do for you,” she said. “When I love you so much and you pull away—it disappoints me.”

She released his arms and Bobby saw how her grip had left white marks that only slowly became pink again.

“Okay, case closed,” she said, brightening once more. “No harm done, right. Ash?”

“No harm,” said Ash.

“All right. Tommy? All done?” She smiled broadly. “I know you’re sorry. I know you didn’t mean to do it, but you must try very hard not to disappoint me. And I’ll try very hard not to disappoint you. Okay, sweetheart?”

She smiled at him, awaiting a response.

“Yes,” said Bobby.

Her smile broadened even further. “You make me so happy!” she said.

She clasped him in her arms again. Her clothing was stiff with starch and scraped against his naked skin.

“Who do you love?” she asked.

“I love you. Dee,” he said.

“I know you do, sweetheart. Just try not to let me down. It makes me feel so bad.”

And then she was away from him, into the whirl of activity that always seemed to accompany, her. She swept into the bathroom, out again to her night table, gathering her things, perfecting her look. When she went out the door it was as if a wind had swept through the room and now was gone. Through the open door Bobby had a glimpse of the outdoors: a car parked in front of their room, a patch of grass that looked unnaturally green, a low hedge, a sampling of sky that hinted of rain. Then the door was closed and Ash was in front of it again.

“Don’t disappoint her,” Ash said.

“Okay,” Bobby said, dismissing it.

“No,” Ash said, shaking his head, trying to convey to Bobby the seriousness of what he said. “You mustn’t. You mustn’t.”

“Can I wear some clothes today?” Bobby asked.

Ash waggled his head in frustration. They never believed him when he tried to warn them. He was never able to make them understand ahead of time. Only Dee could make them understand, and then it was too late.

“No clothes yet,” Ash said. “But listen, listen. Don’t make her mad.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Bobby said. “She just got mad on her own. It wasn’t my fault.”

“No,” Ash said. “No.” But it was no use. After the first day or two they were never really afraid of him anymore. No matter what he did they seemed to understand that he was not a threat. They obeyed him because they recognized he could force them to do whatever he wanted, but they didn’t take him seriously. They knew how stupid he was, Ash realized, and as a result they never really credited what he tried to tell them. He knew he was stupid, but he also knew that he understood things they would never believe until it no longer mattered if they believed them or not.

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll get clothes,” he said.

“Really?” Bobby was excited.

“Maybe she’ll take you out.”

“Out? Out of here? You mean tomorrow we can leave the room?”

“Don’t disappoint her,” Ash said.

“I won’t. I won’t. You mean we’ll leave the room, Ash?”

“She’s going to want to show you off,” Ash said. “She’s very proud of you.”

“Really? Do you mean it?”

Ash wanted to tell him not to get so excited. He wanted to explain that Bobby was safest at this stage, before Dee’s expectations got too high. Before she loved him too much.

“You mustn’t disappoint her,” Ash said.

“I won’t. Stop saying that. I’ll be good.”

“You have to be so good.” Ash said. “So good.”

The old fool was dispensing towels again. Like clockwork, as soon as the woman’s car appeared, George jumped up from his chair and grabbed the towels. Reggie thought he looked like his damned chair was rigged. Like the gas station where you ran over a rubber hose and the bell rang, only here there was no bell, just a shot of adrenaline straight into the old fool’s ass. Reggie watched him hovering around the office until “Dee” came home, pretending to work, pretending he knew how to read the books and count the figures. And all for a younger woman’s smile.

Reggie watched with growing anger as he scurried out the door, holding the towels with one hand, patting his hairs into place atop his pate with the other. It was enough to make her spit. If he didn’t look so damned ludicrous it would be sad, but as it was it was pathetic. Just pathetic.

The woman, of course, greeted him like a long lost friend. Good old George, her personal laundry man, grinning and patting himself like a gigolo. If they had gigolos that age. Reggie looked at “Dee” waiting by the car, containers of take-out food stacked on top. She was very careful not to give George a peek inside the room, Reggie noticed. She would take the towels, smile and chatter away for a bit while George stood there and drooled, then, as he finally turned and walked away—and he usually wouldn’t have sense enough to do that until Reggie stepped out of the office onto the porch—then, and only then, when George’s back was turned, would she knock on her door and when it was opened a crack, slip inside with the towels and take-out food.

There was something suspicious going on in cabin six, and no doubt about it. George was too besotted to see it, of course, and there was no point in trying to convince him, but Reggie didn’t need his help to find out what was afoot. She had been a motel owner for seven years and nobody’s fool for long before that.

She left George safely watching a rerun of a sitcom that featured a famously stupid blonde with a chest that Reggie considered indecent and an equally famous vacuous young man who worked obviously at his acting, but very hard. As long as the blonde was on the screen, which was most of the time, George would never know that Reggie was gone. Not that it mattered if he did know, she thought. She had a perfect right, after all.