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seen it on her coworkers faces when the ambulance brought her to the ER. It was there when Jamie s parents arrived and learned what their son had done. The anger came with her own parents when they saw the sutures on her face, the bruises, the blood on her clothes the ER team had cut from her battered body. So much blood& Gabe reached for her. She scooted back to lean against the other end of the tub and pretended not to notice. It would be easy, so very easy to go to him, feel his arms fold around her and hold her against his big warm body as she recanted the horror of that night, but as much as she craved that warmth, that solace, she had to remember what this night was about. She didn t want his pity, his empathy she d had her fill of that over the years. To allow his touch, accept the comfort he offered would indicate an emotional bond, a connection that went beyond their agreement of no strings, no relationship, no complications. Tonight was about sex, and nothing more. Cloaking herself in indifference, Beth took a fortifying breath and continued. He wasn t always. Please don t give me that look. I m not defending him, I m telling you how it was. It began when he came home from Afghanistan. Once she started, it all spilled out. We were your typical high school sweethearts head cheerleader, captain of the football team. He was a year ahead of me and in his first semester of college on an athletic scholarship when I got pregnant. She drew her knees up, hugged them close to her body and focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest. We were married during fall break. Money was tight. Jamie worked part time, attended classes, and trained with the football team the rest of the time. He was the only married player and got razed a lot by his teammates. He began hanging out with them more, partying. His grades began to drop and it wasn t long before he was booted off the team and lost his scholarship. I ll never forget the look on his face when he came home and told me. Jamie ate, lived, and breathed the game. He was all about the team, had played since Pee Wee League in grade school. Football was his ticket to college. College ball was his chance at the pros, and yes, he was that good. Then it was gone. He was devastated, became depressed. For the next two years he drifted from job to job. Our relationship became strained we hardly spoke, were seldom intimate, and although he never actually said anything, I could feel his resentment toward me growing, as though it were my fault. The hardest part was he hardly paid any attention to Drew. Her own resentment flared, as it always did when she thought about the way Jamie had shunned their son, an innocent caught in the middle. I think joining the military was a form of escape for him, his way of leaving us without actually leaving us, although I didn t see it at the time. Once he started boot camp, he was suddenly the old Jamie again, vibrant and happy. The army gave him the structure and discipline missing from his life. It wasn t football, but he was part of a team again. Our relationship improved, was even better than before, and he doted on Drew when he came home. I was so happy it didn t register with me that I was the only one sad when it was time for him to return to duty. She swirled her hand in the water, stared at her fingertips. She was pruning. Then he re-upped, was deployed to Afghanistan, came home less often sometimes less than once a year. When they sent him home, he was a different man the things he d seen, the things he d done. He became withdrawn, moody. PTSD. Yes. Beth rolled her shoulders, but the knot of tension refused to budge. He had the usual symptoms, but the worst were the unpredictable episodes of anger and hypervigilance. VA arranged for family therapy, and Jamie dove into psychotherapy, became obsessed with it. Eventually his psyche backtracked, searched for and fixated on the moment when his life had changed. That moment had been when I told him I was pregnant with Drew. Then he went a step further and decided that& Had you not had sex with him, none of it would have happened. Yes. Beth s eyes shot up to Gabe s at the matter-of-fact statement. He knew his psychology. She swallowed, her throat dry and tight, and reached for the wine Gabe had set on the glass-top table beside the tub. I ve got it. He poured two glasses, handed one to her, tossed his back, and poured himself another. Then he waited, patient and still, for her to go on. As is typical, it started with emotional abuse everything bad in his life was my fault. My getting pregnant started it all, and he had no qualms about telling me so I should have been on the pill; I should have used more restraint, said no, shouldn t have liked it so much. Tears burned the backs of her lids. She blinked them away. When I pointed out that he had been an active participant as well, he told me I was oversexed and needed to see a psychiatrist. Gabe held up his hand, his doctor face firmly in place. Thank God there wasn t any pity there. She [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |