The Woman He Married (12 page)

Watching as he continued down the driveway, she felt a sudden impulse to run after him and bang her fists on his car, screaming every obscenity known to man, letting the neighbors know what a bastard he really was.

But again, she didn’t

The neighbors weren’t the only ones who would hear. As always it was up to her to protect the children. And so she simply stood there and watched as the garage door slid down between them. Now, alone in the garage, she couldn’t choke back her emotions any longer. Defeated and frustrated by her inaction, with tears streaming down her face, she asked herself,
Who’s
the
wuss
now?

Chapter 5

Before she could face the children, Josie stopped off at the powder bathroom. After splashing some water on her face, she dried it with a hand towel and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her complexion looked ashen and dark circles had formed under the black streaks of her smeared mascara. To make matters worse, her eyes and lips were red and swollen from crying.

She mumbled to herself, “What a mess you’ve become.”

Releasing her hair from its ponytail, she fluffed it around her face, hoping to hide her appearance from the children.

Beth was curled up on top of her covers with Puffer-Lee-Anderson tucked tightly under her chubby little arm. She was wearing mix-matched pajamas and her barrettes were still attached to her now matted hair. As Josie edged the blanket out from under her daughter, she heard Beth whisper, “’Night Momma—love you.”

Josie felt her bottom lip start to quiver as tears accumulated in her swollen eyes again. “Love you too, Baby,” she said before tiptoeing out.

Composing herself with a few breaths, she entered the boys’ room. Bobbie was on the bottom bunk turned to face the wall with Sampson curled up at his feet. Josie could see the dog’s long hair moving back and forth in unison with his lashes as he wondered if she planned to kick him out of his comfy spot.

From the top bunk Jack whispered, “Momma. Is everything all right?”

Josie moved closer and swallowed her emotions. “Yeah, little man. Things are just fine.
Time to get some sleep.”

“You and Daddy still leaving tomorrow?”

“We sure are. I’m
gonna
miss ya’ll. I sure am.” The tears were pushing hard again, but Josie swallowed them back while she stepped up on the bottom bunk for height and kissed Jack on the forehead. And for the first time since hearing about the trip, Josie felt overcome with dismay at the thought of being away from her children.

Kneeling down on the floor, she reached out a shaky hand and rubbed Bobbie’s back. “Hey, son—can you say goodnight to me? I won’t be able to tuck you in for a few nights after today.” The stress of holding back her emotions and trying to sound light at the same time caused her voice to crackle.

“Why is Daddy so mad at me? He’s always mad at me. I didn’t do
nothin
’ wrong.” Bobbie sniffed.

“Oh no—you didn’t. He’s mad at
me
. He loves you—he just can’t show it sometimes, that’s all.” Josie bit her lip hard but a tear still managed to escape. “You know he’s so busy…trying to be a judge and all. It’s not you.”

“You swear?” He sniffed again and turned over to face Josie.

“Yeah.
But he’s not mad anymore. As a matter of fact, we were out there laughing and talking ’bout how good you did tonight. Just now, before your daddy had to, um, run back to the office for something.” Josie forced a smile as another tear ran down her cheek. She prayed that the darkened room would mask her face. “Okay?” She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

For a moment, Bobbie’s gaze darted about his mother’s face. “Okay—night, Momma. Night, Jack. Night, Sampson.” Turning back to the wall, he closed his teary eyes and fell quickly to sleep.

After closing the boy’s door behind her, Josie stood motionless, squeezing her eyes shut tight, trying to control the waves of raw emotion rippling through her body. Aware that she needed to rest, she headed down the hall to her room, but knowing that sleep was out of the question she couldn’t decide what to do next. Hopeless and exhausted, she leaned against the wall and sank down to the floor.
As she suppressed the sobs causing her chest and abdomen to heave, her throat ached like something from the inside was trying to claw its way out.

When the pain became too fierce, she covered her mouth with her hand to contain the agonizing sound that escaped as she forfeited to the mounting pressure. Wrapping her arms tightly around her shins, she released her emotions in a flood of tears that rolled quickly down her face and dripped from her chin to stain her jeans.

Disconnecting herself from the world around, she buried her face in her knees and closed her eyes, letting the darkness envelop her. Her sobbing continued and the pain in her throat subsided as a new ache took its place—that unrelenting pain that had followed her around her whole life. The ache that came from feeling like she’d never fit in, that nobody understood her, that she didn’t deserve to be loved. A hurt that intensified with every day she neglected to deal with it, doing everything in her power to avoid feeling it. Moving out from her core, the pain intensified as it coursed through her entire body. She wanted to make it stop but she couldn’t; she didn’t know how.

In her mind she saw John’s face at the table the night before as he tried to make excuses to keep her from accompanying him on the trip.
His cold eyes on her as he disapproved of her dress.
The bracelet that dangled from Trisha’s wrist.
Then tonight…
What did he mean when he said, “I am
done
with this?”
Done with
me
, our marriage?
She’d done everything in her power to make him happy. Why couldn’t he love her?

Lori’s words made another appearance in her mind—
I will never understand why John Bearden married you in the first place.
Tonight wasn’t the first time she’d heard the very same sentiment. Not out loud of course, but she’d seen it in the eyes of John’s family and the workers at his campaign.

She squeezed her arms tighter around her legs.

“I hate that damn school—I hate volunteering.” She hissed the words out. She wondered why she’d been making herself do it all these years, forcing herself to be someone she wasn’t, something she didn’t even want. The pain in her gut intensified and the crying was causing her head to ache.
I’m a failure at everything.
Motherhood…marriage…those damn costumes.
She wanted to find a hole to crawl into so she could curl up and die, for only in death would the pain truly end. She thought about moving into her closet, where she could hide in the corner, and shut the door—darkness being her only solitude at this point. But Josie couldn’t move—she didn’t have the strength. Alone in the dark hall, curled up in a ball on the floor, with her children sleeping just yards away, she sobbed for hours.

No one heard her cry.

* * * *

The clock on the wall indicated two in the morning when Josie found herself in the study, sitting cross-legged on the leather couch staring at a bottle of gin on the matching ottoman in front of her. Next to the bottle was a tumbler; the ice in the bottom was starting to melt. Dark clouds from the lingering storm blanketed the sky, preventing the light of the stars and the moon from shining through the single window. The low light from John’s desk lamp was barely enough to illuminate the shelves of books, diplomas, and golfing pictures festooning the surrounding walls.

Josie’s tears had finally stopped, but the soreness still remained along with the knowledge of what a failure her life had become. The pain behind her eyes was so intense that even the low lamp light became too bright, and she reached over and switched it off. As the darkness surrounded her, she had the sensation she was sinking slowly, spiraling down into an abyss of emptiness from where there was no return—and sadly she was comfortable there. Uncertain that she’d ever be able to pull herself back out, she reached down and poured the clear liquor into the tumbler.

The burning sensation she felt as the cool liquid rolled down her throat made her feel better, temporarily at least. The physical pain was a welcome release; somehow being able to define the source made it easier to bear. And for a moment she was free. Free from the rawness that the events of the last two days had left her unable to suppress.

After draining the glass, Josie got up and walked over to the stereo. Fumbling around in the darkness, she knocked the golfing trophy she and Gina had won last spring to the floor. Replacing it back on the shelf, she pressed the play button and closed her eyes, letting the gentle sound of guitar strumming wash over her as “Allison”
,
by Elvis Costello, softly filled the room. Josie listened intently, waiting for the music and lyrics to soothe her soul.

As the tears started to well in her eyes again, she shut the music off. Even the words of the greatest songwriter who
ever
lived were causing too much additional pain for her to bear right now. Making her way back to the couch, she poured another glass—then picking up the bottle, she drank until she no longer felt any pain.

* * * *

John hesitated outside the door leading from the garage to the kitchen. As he listened, his apprehension changed to concern when he didn’t hear any movement from the other side. He stepped into the deserted kitchen, looked around, and saw a clean sink and empty countertops. The clock on the stove read seven-fifteen a.m. Josie and the kids should have been eating breakfast and getting ready to leave for school by now.

Where is everybody?
 
Moving out into the family room, he could hear the muffled sound of voices.

“Jocelyn? Kids?” he called out. Turning down the hall, he could hear Bobbie’s anxious voice coming from the study.

“Is she breathing?”

Jack’s voice came next, sounding unsure. “She’s sleeping.”

“She’s sleeping really hard. I think…” Beth said.

“What
is
going on around—” John was at the door to the study. His pulse started to quicken, sending waves of panic through his body when he saw Josie lying motionless on the couch.
“Oh my
God!
Jocelyn?” Hurrying to see if she was all right, he pushed Jack and Bobbie out of the way. As he moved around the ottoman his foot connected with something hard that rolled out and almost tripped him. Looking down, he saw an empty gin bottle. The dissipating scent of alcohol reached out to him with the truth.

On the couch, Josie was lying on her side with her knees pulled up, still dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the night before, her corduroy jacket draped over her. Nestled up to her legs, Sampson was turned over on his back, resting his head on her hip, his front paws in a praying mantis position with his back legs spread-eagled. He was ignoring the intrusion.

When the bottle collided with the heavy wooden leg of the desk, the sound caused Josie to stir. She mumbled something incoherently.

“Look, Momma’s not dead—she just moved,” Bobbie called out with a sigh of relief.

“No—Momma’s not dead—but she’s
gonna
be.” John’s words came out sibilant, filled with venom. He couldn’t believe she was drinking again and it appeared that this time, she’d outdone herself.

“What?” the kids all chorused.

John looked down to see three pairs of horrified little eyes gaping up at him.

“Just a figure of speech.”
He shook his head. “She needs a cold shower and some hot coffee,
then
she’ll be all right.” He let out a long sigh as he regarded Josie a second longer.
Damn it, not today
. “Okay, time’s up. You kids go on now and get dressed. I’m going to call Granny Carol to come carry ya’ll to school. So get moving or you’ll be late.”