“What do you think you're going to do now, Maddy?” one of the women asked her.
“I don't know,” she said honestly, “I'm so scared, I'm afraid he'll see what's inside my head, or hear what I'm thinking.”
“The only thing he's gonna hear clearly is you slamming the door in his face and running like hell. He won't hear nothing till you do that,” a woman with no teeth and scraggly hair said. But in spite of the way she looked and the rough things she said, Maddy liked her. These women, she knew now, were what was going to save her. She had to save herself, she also knew, but she needed their help. And for whatever reason, she could hear them.
She felt like a new person as she left them, but they also warned her that it wouldn't happen by magic. No matter how good she felt from the common experience they shared, and the validation they gave her, she still had to do the work, and it wasn't going to be easy. She also knew that.
“Giving up abuse is like giving up drugs,” one of the women told her bluntly. “It's the hardest thing you'll ever do, because it's familiar to you. You're used to it. You don't even know it's happening anymore. It's the only way you know or think someone loves you.” Maddy had heard this before, but she still hated hearing it. She now realized it was true. She just didn't know what she was going to do about it, except come here.
“Don't expect too much of yourself at first,” one of the others said to her, “but don't hang around for ‘one last time,’ one last round, one last shot at it … it may be your last one. Even the guys who don't lay a hand on you get crazy sometimes. He's a bad person, Maddy, a lot worse than you think, and he could kill you. He probably wants to, but doesn't have the balls. Get your ass out of there before he finds them. He doesn't love you. He doesn't care about you, not in any way you want … his love for you is hurting you. That's what he wants, and that's what he's gonna do. He ain't never gonna change. He'll just get worse. And the better you get, the worse he'll be. You're in a lot of danger.”
She thanked them all when she left, and she drove home thoughtfully, mulling over everything they'd said. She didn't doubt any of it. She knew it was true. And she also knew that for some crazy reason, she wanted Jack to stop hurting her and to love her. She wanted to show him how, part of her even wanted to explain it all to him, so he could stop doing the things that hurt her. But she also knew now that he never would. He would just go on hurting her more and more. And even if she thought she loved him, she had to leave him. It was a matter of survival.
She called Bill from the car before she got home, and told him what it had been like. And he sounded relieved for her. He just prayed that they would give her the strength she needed, and she'd act on it.
And it was as though Jack sensed it when she got home. He looked at her strangely and asked her where she'd been, and she told him again it was a meeting relating to the commission. She even took a chance and told him it was a group for battered women they had wanted to check out, and it was very interesting, but just hearing about it made him angry.
“What a bunch of sick fucks that must have been. I can't believe they expect you to meet with people like that.” She opened her mouth and started to defend them, and then she closed it. She knew now that even doing that, and tipping her hand to that extent, could put her in danger with him. And she was no longer willing to risk it. She had learned that much. “What are you looking so smug about?” he accused her, and she looked as noncommittal and nonthreatening as she could, and refused to let him make her feel anxious. She was practicing what they had taught her that night at the meeting.
“It was actually pretty boring,” she said wisely, “but I promised Phyllis I'd do it.” He eyed her cautiously and nodded. He seemed satisfied with her answer. For once, it had been the right response.
And that night, for the first time in a while, he made love to her, and he was rough with her again, as though to remind her of his power. And no matter what she'd heard, he was still in control and always would be. But as she had before, she said nothing to him. She went to her bathroom and showered afterward, but no amount of water or soap seemed to wash the horror of him off her. She went back to bed without a sound, and was relieved when she heard him snoring.
She got up early the next day, and she was in the kitchen when he came downstairs, and everything seemed the same as always between them. But she felt like a prisoner now, chipping away at the walls, silently digging a tunnel to safety, no matter how long it took.
“What's with you?” he snapped at her as she handed him his coffee. “You've been acting strange.” She prayed he couldn't read her mind. She was almost sure he could, but she wouldn't let herself believe it. But just hearing him, she knew she was already becoming different, and that in itself put her at risk.
“I think I'm getting the flu or something.”
“Take vitamin C. I don't want to have to get a stand-in for you if you're sick. It's so goddamn much trouble.” He didn't even have to find the stand-in himself, but at least he had bought her story about not feeling well. But just listening to his tone, she was aware of how constantly rude to her he was these days.
“I'll be okay. I can go on anyway.” He nodded, and picked up the paper, and Maddy stared blindly at The Wall Street Journal. All she could do now was pray that he didn't figure out what she was thinking. But with any luck at all, he wouldn't. She had to make a plan, she knew, and escape before he destroyed her. Because one thing she knew now for sure was that the hatred she had suspected he felt for her was real, and far worse than she had feared.
Chapter 19
DECEMBER WAS BUSY AS USUAL. Parties, meetings, plans for the holidays. Every embassy seemed to be giving a cocktail party, a dinner, or a dance, whenever possible including their national traditions. It was part of the fun of living in Washington, and Maddy had always enjoyed it. In the early days of their marriage, she had loved going to parties with Jack, but in the past months, as things became more and more strained in their relationship, she hated going out with him. He was always jealous of her, watched her with other men, and afterward accused her of some misdeed or inappropriate behavior. It was stressful going anywhere with him, and she was not looking forward to Christmas this year.
What she really wanted this year was to include Lizzie in her holidays, but with Jack forbidding her to have anything to do with the girl, Maddy knew that there was no way she could. Either she had to confront him and make a battle of it, or she had to give up the idea completely. There was no compromise with Jack. It was his way or no way. She was stunned to realize that she had never noticed that before, nor how he belittled her ideas and needs, and made her feel either foolish or guilty for them. It was something that, for years, she had readily accepted. She wasn't even sure now how the change had come, but in the past months, as she came to understand how truly disrespectful of her he was, she had a constant need to fight her increasing sense of oppression. But however much at odds she was with him, she knew in her heart of hearts that she still loved him. And that in itself was terrifying, because it left her vulnerable to him.
She couldn't wait, she knew now, for that love to stop. Love had nothing to do with it. Even loving and needing him in some ways, she knew that she had to walk away. Every day she stayed with him was dangerous for her. And she had to constantly remind herself of it. She was also aware that if she had tried to explain it to anyone, no one would have understood, except those who had gone through the same process. To anyone else, the conflicting emotions and guilt she had would seem utterly crazy. Even Bill, with all his concern for her, didn't really understand it. The only thing that helped him at all was the fact that he was learning a great deal on the commission about the subtle and not-so-subtle forms of violence against women. And it was hard, in the true sense of the word, to call what Jack did “violence,” but it was the epitome of abusive behavior. Outwardly, he paid her well, had rescued her, provided her with security, a lovely home, a country house, a jet plane she could use anytime, beautiful clothes, gifts of jewelry and furs, vacations in the South of France. How could anyone in their right mind call him abusive? But Maddy and the people who saw the relationship under a finer microscope knew only too well what evil lurked there. All the cells of the disease were present, carefully concealed beneath the trappings. But hour by hour, day by day, minute by minute, Maddy could feel his poison devour her. She lived in constant fear.