I am HER... Read online

  "Which hotel?"

  "The Super 8 on Sheridan Road.”

  "Give me 10 minutes, and they’ll escort you to your room. Do you have any luggage?" Luggage? Giggle. Yes. I have luggage, but the real problem is all the food I just bought. I can’t help another little laugh.

  "Stop, Sweetheart. You’re doing very well. In 10 minutes, I want you to bring your luggage into the foyer and wait to be escorted to your room. Okay?"

  "Yes. Okay. Thank you. But PLEASE don’t pay for my room, or anything. I WANT to do this on my own. If I wasn't afraid of Marcus and my parents tracking my credit cards, I would have used my own, and never asked you for a thing... I just didn't know what else to do. I have no one else to call." Ooops... That sounded bad. "Ah, what I mean is..."

  "Don't worry. It's fine. I know you're struggling right now, so I’ll excuse the occasional 'poor choice of words' on your part." He actually sounds like he’s smiling at me. Is he?

  "Thank you... I'll call you back soon," I whisper.

  My room is very nice. It’s much nicer than I expected, and much nicer than I had hoped for. There’s even a small mini-fridge under the counter with a freezer. Damn. I could've bought the ice cream. Oh well. My big thighs and butt will thank me later. Stop! Not now. Torture yourself later.

  Walking back to my car, a nice, male attendant soon follows and offers to help me with my purchases. Did Z tell them to help me? Probably. What took us one trip with 8 bags, would have taken me at least 2 or 3 trips. Thank you nice attendant man. Thank you, Z.

  ==========

  Finally, I'm here. After putting my groceries aside in the fridge and on the counter as best as I can, I pull my luggage to the dressers and unpack all my clothes and shoes. All I have is black. Lots and lots of black.

  In the bathroom, I finally see my face. What is WITH this mascara? Shit! I look like a raccoon. This is so embarrassing. No wonder the store clerk, the impatient man in line behind me and the hotel staff thought I was demented. I look weird.

  I'm wearing a beautiful Movado watch and Vera Wang heels. I have a stunning 1 carat diamond pendant and matching earrings. I also have a large 2 carat diamond solitaire ring on my hand, but I look like a crazy person, recently released on her week-end pass from the asylum.

  Once my toiletries are lined up neatly, I scrub my face, brush my teeth... And exhale again. Why do I always hold my breath? I don't think I ever did that before. Why now?

  Entering the room again, I know I should call Z. Taking a big breath while dialing, I mentally prepare for his intensity, as I crawl into the bed.

  "Hello, Sweetheart. All settled in?"

  "Yes. Thank you again. I promise I'm not going to use your credit card. I have enough money to stay for weeks, if I need it." Huh. Do they offer weekly discounts? I should ask.

  "I wouldn't care if you did."

  "But I would. I don't want to take anything from you. I don't expect anything, I promise. I just needed..."

  "I know what you need, love, and I am more than happy to provide it." What? Gulp. Why does he sound so seductive all of a sudden? It's his tone, I think.

  "Um. I really should go now ‘cause it’s after 3am. It's been a very, very long day for me, and I'm exhausted. I'm very sorry I kept you awake this late."

  "Would you like some company? I'm only offering to be there, nothing more." Yes! Yes, I would.

  "No... but thank you. I hope I'm not offending you, but I really need to just sleep now. I am beyond exhausted, stressed out, and feeling a little weak from all this," I sigh.

  "Weak? Yes, I could see how weakness would stress you out. No worries. Please call me when you wake though. I would like to know how you are after a good night’s rest."

  "Okay. I'll call you. Thank you again, Z, for ah... being, ah... there for me." God that sounded pathetic, even to me.

  "You’re very welcome, Sweetheart. I'm glad I could, ah... be, ah... there for you." God, he has a lovely voice, and he's smiling at me. I can actually hear his smile in his voice.

  Smiling myself, I whisper, "Good night, Z."

  "Sweet dreams, Sweetheart."

  Saturday, May 28th

  CHAPTER 8

  At 9:47, I finally wake up. I've only slept 6 hours, but I feel fairly rested. What now? Start small and just eat breakfast. Oh, I bought muffins last night. Good. I haven't had a muffin in forever. Marcus always said‘muffins are for fat woman who don't care that they are eating empty calories and gluing it to their asses'. Yeah, well... This woman is eating a chocolate chip muffin, maybe even two.

  I'm stalling. By 10:09, I'm officially bored. What do I do now? Normally, on Saturday mornings, Marcus and I have a nice breakfast, and drive to the Market Place 4 blocks away from our home. We HAVE TO buy fruit and vegetables from the Market Place because Marcus believes strongly in buying produce from local sources, to aid the local economy AND because local fruits and vegetables are macro-biotic, therefore better for you.

  I have heard this same lecture almost every Saturday, for 6 years of marriage, and it never changes... except of course, during the winter months. During the winter, it’s perfectly acceptable to buy fruit and vegetables in the massive grocery store around the corner from our house, where it's nice and warm. God, he is SUCH an ass!

  By 10:30, I'm still stalling. I wish I remembered my filthy, pornographic novel. Oh, no! Marcus might find it if he enters my sunroom. How embarrassing! Would he tell my parents about it? Oh, probably. Just another example he can use to show the world that I am the problem, not dear, sweet, secure, stable, reliable, innocent... Marcus. Gag.

  Maybe I can go to a bookstore today. I'll just visit the Erotica section and I'll pay in cash so no one knows what I've purchased. Where is a bookstore around here? Probably in a perfectly obvious strip-mall nearby. I won't walk downtown, I'll drive instead, just in case. Good.

  And stalling some more...

  By 11:25 my bed is made and I'm showered. My hair is dried and styled in a nice chignon. My clothes are perfectly acceptable, and black. My make-up is done. I look totally together, and sane. Stop stalling. OK!

  Dialing Z, I'm holding my breath again... That I know I'm holding my breath doesn't actually stop me from holding my breath though.

  "Good morning, Sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

  "Yes. It's very nice here. I wanted to thank you again for helping me last night. I..."

  Cutting me off, Z says, "How about you say 'thank you' once more and say 'I'm sorry Z' twice." Ahhhh... What?

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "You heard me. I want you to say 'thank you, Z' and 'I'm sorry Z, very sorry' right now. Say it." What the HELL is he talking about?

  "I don't understand..."

  "I WANT you to say 'Thank you, Z' and 'I'm sorry, Z... very sorry'!"

  "Okay. Thank you and I'm sorry, very sorry." Why am I doing this?

  "Ooops. You forgot the 'Z'." What?

  "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you want." This is getting kind of annoying.

  "You're an intelligent woman, love. Repeat these words. 'Thank you, Z' and then 'I'm sorry, Z, I'm very sorry'. It's really not that difficult, Sweetheart. Please try again." What does he think I am? A moron?

  “Why are you speaking to me like I'm an idiot?"

  "Say it!" He yells at me. WHAT THE HELL?!

  "Fine! THANK YOU, Z. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Good, enough?!"

  "And? Continue please..."

  "I. AM. SORRY, Z. SO FUCKING SORRY!! Please FORGIVE me!! I don't know what you want, but there!! I’M SO SORRY, YOU ASSHOLE!! Ooops. You didn't DEMAND that, but I threw it in any way! Good enough NOW?" Ha! Asshole! TAKE THAT!

  "Yes. Thank you. That was perfect. Though, I could have done without the asshole, the rest was lovely." Is he insane? Shit. I can’t hold back my laughter.

  "Ah... That's better. Now, please don't get hysterical on me, but a little laughter is acceptable..." he chuckles in return.

  "You're crazy, Z. Why did you want me to say that? I
really AM sorry for all this. It IS very embarrassing for me. And I really AM grateful to you for aiding me last night. There is nothing wrong with that." I breathe as a little giggle carries over.

  "No. There is nothing wrong with that. However, I want you to just relax so you can simply talk to me with honesty. Therefore, I thought it best to get all your obsessive gratitude, embarrassment and apologies out of the way. Now, I would like to have a conversation with you without either of the following... 'I'm sorry' and/or 'thank you'. Do you think you could please try to avoid those two statements?" Doubtful.

  "Um... I can try. But it's hard. I was bred to speak a certain way, and I always have...”

  "I understand about your breeding... but please try. For me?"

  Sighing, "Yes. I'll try."

  "Well, now that all that’s out of the way, AND you've called me an asshole... I would like to ask you a few questions." Ugh.

  "Okay," I whisper.

  "Oh, Sweetheart... don't sound so frightened. This is going to be fun." Again, I can hear his smile.

  "I'm guessing this will only be fun for you... but I'll try." Here we go. This is going to be awful, I just know it.

  "Okay. For starters, what do you want to do about your marriage and your husband?" He sneers.

  "Um... I don't know. I haven't had any time to think about him yet. I know I don't really want to go back, but I'm not sure if it's that easy for me."

  "It IS that easy. Just make a decision, and change your life to fit your decision."

  "Nothing’s that easy, Z. We have a home together. We have joint bills, and joint money invested. We have joint everything. He holds the title to my car, though I paid for it. He is the major buyer on our home, though my pay checks pay the mortgage equally. Financially, I am completely eclipsed by him. So, it's NOT that easy." This is bad. I am so screwed. "Ah, I didn't even realize it until now, but I'm pretty screwed actually, at least financially by Marcus." Shit.

  "Finances can be manipulated, altered, or changed. Money and financial issues are probably the easiest hurdle."

  "Marcus is a tax accountant. He knows money. He knows all the 'loop-holes'. I think he even drafted a few such loop-holes. So, financially, I really am in quite a bit of trouble. Going up against Marcus will be very difficult. Plus..." Shit.

  "Plus, what?"

  "Um... Marcus is very close to my parents... actually, he’s more like their child than I am. So, it’ll be even harder to change things because Marcus invests much of their money. They're very wealthy, and Marcus has made them even wealthier. He uses their money, invests, buys and sells, and splits profits without taxing himself, or indirectly me... I guess. I know he uses small 'dummy' companies within a lower tax bracket. I'm assuming it's kind of illegal, or right on the fringe at least, but my parents and Marcus all have an agreement and I think he could easily change that if I leave him. Or he could at least threaten to, which would force my parents to force me to behave. And he is the Executor of their will, not me, so he can take whatever he wants and ruin me." Oh. This is so much worse than I thought.

  "So, again... I'm hearing financial issues. If I told you my dearest friend, whom, incidentally, I trust with my life, was a senior corporate Rep for the I.R.S., what would you say?" Gulp.

  "Ah... I'd say I'm sorry I told you any of this."

  Barking a laugh, Z responds, "I love your quick, witty responses. No worries, Sweetheart, I would never divulge a confidence, unless you ask me to..." Which I never will. "Which you never will, I'm assuming." Jeez... He's good.

  "Probably not. I like to do things on my own."

  "Yes. I am well aware of your rather obsessive independence." Oh, good. Obsessive?

  "I'm not obsessive about it. I just find it easier to do things for myself, rather than be disappointed when..."

  "Disappointed when you are let down, and/or betrayed? Am I right?"

  "You know you're right. Please... please don't play games with me," I beg. I don't like this at all.

  "Oh, Sweetheart... I'm not playing games with you. I'm listening to what you do and don’t say and repeating it back to you. I want you to hear all I hear. I want you to see all I see. Remember, I'm just learning you, but you have known yourself always. Therefore, I am a fresh perspective to all you know, say, and feel. Do you understand what I'm trying to give to you?"

  "I know when you give back to me my own words; I don't like to hear them. I sound pathetic. I sound like a loser. I never thought I was a loser, until all of this and I hate it. I hate the way you see me. I'm embarrassed that I'm essentially, completely transparent. I don't like this game, anymore." I feel so sad suddenly.

  "You sound very sad right now. That’s not my intention. I would like to help strengthen you for a potentially difficult upcoming fight. You may or may not leave your husband for good, but you need to strengthen yourself to make some changes. I don’t want you in a situation where you ever feel this trapped again. I would like that for you, Ms. Independent. Can you see the contradiction?" Christ! Even Z thinks I'm an idiot.

  "Yes, I see it! This wasn't my intention you know! It just happened, okay?! Marcus and my parents are very strict, very strong people. They think they always know what's best for me, so they push their decisions on me. If it had been just one or the other, I could have fought. I bought the love seat and chair!" Not that he knows what the hell that means. "But it's not one or the other- It's always THEM, together. If he says, they agree. If they say, he agrees. I'm the only one who ever has a problem with their decisions. It's just easier to give in every time, because as they always say, I. Am. The. Problem, not them."

  What am I doing here? What am I going to do? I'm going to give in. I always give in. I have no other choice but to give in.

  "You are not going to give in this time. Your husband emotionally and somewhat physically abused you. You don’t have to give in this time, and quite frankly, I will be very disappointed if you do. He cheated on you, by his own words, 'with many women', so you have grounds to fight. You can have anything you want, if you choose to fight.”

  If I choose? I'll never win the fight. There is nothing I can say to Z to make him understand. There is nothing I can give but my silence.

  "Ah... I'm starting to hear the refusal to fight. I can sense your retreat. Listen to me; I’m not trying to force you to do anything, as they force you to do. I'm just giving you options, that's all. A different perspective, if you will. Maybe a better perspective than what you’ve always known. You can do, or have anything you want, starting today. Today, you can map out your whole life. You can do anything..."

  "I CAN’T do anything! I NEVER can! That's the point, Z. You don't know me, and you DON'T know my life. It's NOT easy. It's NOT filled with options and opportunity. This life of mine is completely constructed and static. It is me who has upended my life. If I hadn't felt weird and kind of messed up this week, I wouldn't have told Marcus sex was not good, I wouldn't have been home working, looking horribly incompetent for my boss, and Marcus wouldn't have been drunk and aggressive. I wouldn't know about the cheating. I wouldn't fear my employment stability. I would be at home, right now, unloading the local, macro-biotic fruit and vegetables Marcus insists I buy..."

  There. That was a mouthful, but I don't actually feel better though, like I thought I would.

  "Yes. I don't know you well, and I certainly don't know the intricacies of your life, but I know a tragic situation when I see it. And I want to help."

  "No, you DON’T! Jesus! Can't you just leave me alone?! Stop talking for five minutes. I just need to think, okay? This is MY life, and I don't want you interfering with it. I don't want YOU to have an opinion. I don't want you..." Shit. Breathe. Calm down.

  "There. That was better. You calmed a rising panic-attack. Good girl. I AM going to help you. I decided to help you when I first heard your voice on Tuesday. I know you enough, and I know what you need. So you can either work with me, or fight me. It won't matter either way, because I will still help
you. But if you fight me, you’ll just end up more exhausted and battle weary. But it is your choice."

  My choice? When have I ever had a choice? "It's not my choice. You just told me you were going to help regardless... So again, I have NO choice. Can you see how absurd your statement is?"

  "No. I said you have a choice, not ALL the choices. I'm helping you regardless of what you choose. Whether you accept my help or not, is not going to change anything. But you can choose to accept my help. Think about it. I will give you two hours, and then I'm calling you back and we’ll talk." Two hours? What the hell will I figure out in two hours?

  "Um... I need more time to..."

  "No, two hours is what I'm offering. I'm going to call you back, and we're going to talk. Really talk. You will accept my help, or not, but you WILL give me your decision in two hours."

  "Z... I can't think anymore..."

  "That's the point. I'm here now, to think for or with you- Your choice. Two hours, love. I'm calling you back at 2:15. Please have your answer ready." Shit!

  ==========

  At 2:10, I realize I want Z's help. I actually want it. And knowing I want his help gives me a sense of peace I have rarely, if ever, felt before. Knowing I will have such a straight-forward man in my corner makes me feel a kind of relief, an actual sense of calm. I'm content and excited, so when the phone rings, I'm ready. I don't jump or gasp. I answer calmly.

  "Hi."

  "Hello, Sweetheart. How are you feeling?"

  "Good. I'm good. I, ah, have decided to accept your help. Um, please help me." There! I jumped off the cliff.

  "I would love to help you, and I'm honored that you are willing to let me. I would have helped anyway, but I'm glad I don't have to fight you as well." Again, there’s a smile in his voice.