The Woman He Married (13 page)

“Does this mean I can wear anything I want?” Beth’s eyes were blinking quickly while her feet danced around as though she were standing on hot coals.

“Yeah, Baby, whatever you want. Hurry up now and then get back to the kitchen. I’m going to get something ready for you to eat.”

“
You
are?” Jack looked skeptical. “Shouldn’t we wait for Granny Carol?”

“I’m perfectly capable,” John assured them as they made their way out of the study, looking back cautiously as they went.

He stared back at his wife.
“God Almighty, Jocelyn.
What have you done now?” Shaking his head, he moved over to the phone on the desk, dialed the number, and waited for his mother-in-law to pick up. After hanging up, he regarded Josie forlornly before retrieving the empty bottle from under the desk.
What should
I do next?
Leaving her for now, he shuffled off to the kitchen to start breakfast.

* * * *

As soon as Carol and the kids were on their way, John showered and dressed before returning to the study. He moved the watered-down tumbler of gin from the ottoman over to the desk; the smell of the liquor caused his nose to wrinkle. John had never been a drinker. The taste and smell of alcohol made him sick, and the most he could ever tolerate was the occasional glass of wine, or a social beer.

Reaching down, he gently removed a strand of Josie’s hair that had fallen across her face. Her skin was blotchy and her eyes were swollen, but she looked peaceful.
Beautiful, even.

“What’s happened to you,” he mumbled, remembering how captivating and full of life she was when they first met. But slowly, over the years the vibrancy that had attracted him to her had started to fade, and then the drinking had begun.

He sat down on the ottoman and rested his elbows on his knees. With his face in his hands, he watched her as she slept.

“Tell me what to do, Babe. I can’t go on like this much longer,” he said. The disappointment ringing loud though his voice was only a whisper. He knew she was in pain but felt powerless to end her suffering.

At first, he’d tried to understand, but her reasons made no sense to him, and therefore bore no conclusions. Next, he simply ignored the drinking in hopes it was just a phase. When her problem evolved from a private nuisance to a public embarrassment, they’d finally struck a deal. But once again she’d been pushed to the brink, and just like every time before, he’d not been there to pull her back.

Now more than ever, he felt ill-equipped to be a husband, much less a father. All he could recollect of his own dad consisted of the old man barking orders and settling for nothing less than compliance. Then one day his mother ran the bastard off when he brought his mistress home for Sunday supper.

Josie stirred, disturbing Sampson. Rolling himself off the couch, the dog gave his fur a quick shake before padding out of the room. John knew he couldn’t put off waking her any longer.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he stood, leaned over her, and began shaking her shoulders, trying to rouse her from her stupor.

* * * *

Still somewhat intoxicated, Josie’s brain fought consciousness.
Stop! Why am I moving?
Josie’s head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and her stomach was starting to churn with the sudden movement of her body.

“Leave me alone,” she mumbled, reaching up to push him away.

“Time to get up, Jocelyn. We’ve got to go.” His voice was firm but even as he pulled her up to sitting. “Plane takes off in less than two hours.”

Plane, what plane? Where am I?
 
Josie tried to focus but the room was starting to spin. The sun streaming through the window told her that it was morning.
What day is it?

Pressing her palms to her temples, trying to still the swirling motion in her head, she asked, “The kids. Is it time for school?”

“They left here about thirty minutes ago with your momma.” John leaned down and, wrapping both arms around Josie’s body, he hoisted her up to standing.

“My momma?”
Josie tried to comprehend
why
her mother would have taken the kids, but suddenly, her stomach felt like it was going to heave.
Then why is someone trying to get me up?
 
Josie’s legs gave out beneath her and John quickly caught her before she fell back onto the couch.
Oh, for the love of Pete, why won’t he let me be?

Josie looked up and saw John’s blurry face staring down at her and slowly her hazy mind began to replay the events of the night before—the play, the fight, something about throwing tools and yelling obscenities. It was all a bit foggy, but she started to remember. As another wave of nausea rolled through her body she was full of dread when she realized why he was so insistent on getting her up.

“No! I’m not going anywhere…with you.” Josie’s words were slurred as she sneered at him through puffy, half-closed eyes. “You can just go on without me…it’s what you want, anyway.”

“Afraid that’s not an option. You’re coming. Now stand up.” He steadied Josie on her feet, and then with one arm around her waist, started walking her toward the door. Her feet stumbled as she tried to keep up. The doorframe somehow looked lopsided, and she worried that she wouldn’t make it through.

“Keep this up and I
will
 
have
to send you to rehab,” John threatened, struggling to keep her on her feet.

“Yeah, right.
You and I both know you wouldn’t risk it winding up in the papers. Although, I’d enjoy watching
Trisha
try to spin that one.” Josie practically spit Trisha’s name at John as he dragged her down the hall toward their bedroom.

“Keep it up, Jocelyn—you’ll see.”

Reaching out for the wall to steady
herself
, Josie couldn’t remember the hall being this narrow, or this uneven.

“Maybe rehab’s not such a bad idea. I might finally make it into someone’s campaign add,” she said, and then with a wicked chuckle, added, “
although
it wouldn’t be yours.”

“Very funny.”
John’s expression was angry now as he dragged Josie into the bathroom and over to the shower. Turning the water on, he moved the dial all the way to cold and shoved Josie, still fully clothed, under the shower.

The frigidly cold water was an unexpected shock to Josie’s practically numb system. She felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. Gasping for air and fumbling for the temperature control, turning it to hot, she spit water and venom. “You really
are
a horse’s ass!”

“And you’re a lousy drunk,” John shot back. “Damn it, Jocelyn, you promised that if I let you go to work you’d cut this nonsense
out!
”

As the temperature rose, steam poured out of the shower. Josie pulled at the snaps of her shirt and then her jeans, struggling to remove the wet clothing adhering to her body.

Realizing how pathetic she must look, she felt humiliated and angry. “Don’t get me started on the promises
you
haven’t kept,” Josie said, dancing around as she stripped her wet jeans from her legs.

* * * *

With one arm resting on the wall outside the shower for support, John watched his wife as she fumbled to remove her saturated clothing. His creased brow relaxed and his eyes softened when she finally removed her blouse, throwing it to the shower floor. As she reached back to unhook her bra she looked up and saw that he had been watching her. Ripping the bra from her body, she balled it up and flung it at him.

“Show’s over!” she hissed, yanking the glass door shut.

Instinctively, he reacted, catching the bra with one hand. His jaw grew rigid as his mood turned cold once more. “One hour, Jocelyn. Get yourself cleaned up and be ready to leave. I’ll be back to get you,” he said in a cross voice.

Shooting another hard glance at the steamed glass door, he stalked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where he wavered. As she’d undressed, and just for a second, he’d considered climbing in with her—it had been too long since he’d held her. But then she’d slammed the door in his face the way she always had. Shaking his head, he looked back, knowing it wasn’t too late.
Or,
is it?
Tense with frustration he turned and hurled Josie’s bra against the wall.

The wet fabric stuck briefly, before falling in a waterlogged heap to the floor.

* * * *

Josie stayed in the shower until the hot water was gone. After wiping the steam from the mirror, she stared in horror at the pale, blotchy, swollen face looking back at her. Applying full make-up was futile at this point. Instead, she opted for a little blush and mascara before downing three Advil. Dressed in a sleeveless Tommy
Bahama
rayon blouse, jeans, and sandals, she pulled her wet hair up into a messy bun and headed for the kitchen in search of some coffee. Her feet faltered somewhat as she wondered,
what am I doing?
Going on this trip…with him—with them.
I must be crazy or something.

After rounding the corner from the entry hall to the kitchen, Josie saw that her mother was back from dropping off the kids, and waiting for her with a hot mug of coffee.

Carol looked aghast as she held out the steaming cup to Josie. “Good Lord, child! You look like hell.”

Josie took a careful sip of the coffee. “Thanks, Momma. I needed to hear that,” she said and felt the pounding in her head intensify with the sound of her own voice.

“Frankly, I don’t know what’s happened to you,” Carol said into her cup while shaking her head.

Annoyed, Josie said through tight lips, “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Carol set her mug on the counter. “I really can’t say.
I’d
just like to know what happened to
my
daughter who was never going to get married—never let some
man
tell her what to do! So—what happened?”

“She married the first man who asked, and then had three children,” Josie scoffed. “Honestly, Momma, what do you want me to say?”

“I’m serious, Jocelyn!” Carol’s voice grew frantic. “Women used to come from all around to hear you speak about women’s rights.” She pulled the jacket of her pink velour tracksuit tightly around her body and crossed her arms over the top.

“Twice, Momma—and they didn’t come to hear
me
. I was just the warm-up speaker.” Josie leaned against the counter and took another long sip. Cradling the mug in both hands, she held it close to her face, letting the steam warm her cheeks. “And I don’t know that person anymore,” she admitted, gazing absently at the floor.

“Yes you do. She’s not gone far—you just need to find her again, that’s all.” Carol’s voice was sad, but encouraging, as she uncrossed her arms and stepped forward.

“Momma, please.” Josie’s head was still reeling and her stomach felt raw. She didn’t want to have this conversation right now.

“I just don’t want to see you end up depressed and lonely, wondering what happened to your life, married to a man who doesn’t appreciate you. And drinking,” Carol’s eyes started to water as she added, “just to make it through the day.”

Josie felt the muscles in her back tighten. “I am not you, Momma,” she said, tersely.

Carol’s voice was unyielding as she retorted, “Oh, no? Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

Josie was silent, letting her mother’s words sink in.
But I’m not like her, am I?
 
Her head throbbed even harder.

“John’s not the Judge, you know,” Carol said after a few tense moments. “Changing who you are to gain his acceptance isn’t going to fix things with your daddy.” She moved over to Josie’s side and spoke softly. “That ship sailed when he passed away… It’s time to move on—do what’s best for
you
now.” Smiling empathetically, Carol reached over and took Josie’s hand.