1.7: Abuse

   "Mom, when will I not have to share a room with them?"

   "Them? Sweetie, they're your siblings, not toxic waste."
   "They cry all the time! I can't sleep for a straight hour without Tiffani or Lloyd waking up screaming! Can I please get my own room? Please?"
   "Honey, I'm trying the best I can."
   "Please?"
   "Alex, I wish I could change things. I honest to goodness do."
   "Mom." He looked as if he knew everything I'd promised was an empty promise. I couldn't help but feel ashamed and look away.
   "I love you." I kissed his forehead.
   "Love you too." He muttered.
   "Now off to beddy by. And think about this, soon they'll be three."
    "Does that mean that I'll get my own room?"
    "Alex...." I sighed. My stubborn little eight year old really hates the apartment. He loves his brother and sister, but he hate shaving to share a room. I know that if we got a house, an actual home with a lawn and everything, Alex would be happier. Not that Johnny would be okay with it. He's been working later and later every week, and he stopped being romantic. He doesn't bother with kisses or tickles or anything romantic. He seems happier whenever he comes home from work. Then, he sees his family and becomes grouchy. He goes out with friends a lot and often comes home a little tipsy, slurring dirty language he'd usually reserve for the bedroom.
  I flipped off the bedroom light and wandered into the bathroom, cleaning myself up and changing into my PJs. I slipped into bed, alone. It was ten thirty on a Saturday and Johnny as gone. I know I should have been suspicious. I just couldn't bring myself to be. I'd doubted love in the beginning. If I had another  doubt, I'd leave. I slumbered on, as I heard the front door unlock and Johnny come in. He slipped into the bed and ran his hand down my side. I felt awkward and uncomfortable, but I didn't stop pretending to sleep.
   "Alyce...." He said in a creepy voice. What was wrong?
   I ignored him and tried to force myself into sleep. I fell into a cold, dreamless nap. Dark. Cold. Unloved. My thoughts swirled darkly, as I kept trying to ignore everything, everyone. If I ignored my pain and depression, it'd go away, right?
   "Mom? Are you asleep?" Asleep? I was, wasn't I? The twins weren't crying. Were they? No, I heard silence. The faint glow of a flashlight entered my room. I heard Alex tiptoe to the easel we'd bought him a few years ago. The smell of paint wafted through the room. He was painting at. I opened one eyelid to glance at the alarm clock. Three a.m. Tomorrow there was no school, what was the harm? He couldn't sleep and was painting his frustrations out. I wonder what frustrations an eight year old has.
   "What the he-ccckkk?" He censored himself.
   "D-d-dad?"
   "Yes, you little snot. Who do you think you are? It's three," He cussed horridly, "And you're what? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
   "P-p-painting."
   "Painting? PAINTING?! Again?" I heard him hop out of bed and the sound of ripping canvas. That's the third this month. You'll think twice, right snot?"
   "Y-y-yes sir."
   "Stuttering? Are you stuttering? Is da wittle bwaby stwuttewing?"
   "Dad..." I heard tears. I can't stand this. Was Johnny secretively abusing Alex?  No. He couldn't be...not sweet Johnny....
    "Dad?!" He snarled. "Are you crying? Aw look, the wittle bwaby's cwying now. Tell your mom and I beat you again." Again?
   "What the-!" I hopped out of bed and smacked Johnny.  "If you touch him or any of MY children I swear-"
   "Alyce, baby." He smiled, smoothly. "I'm sure if you want to be fired from your job and black listed you'll do that. I have some favors to cash in with a few of my lawyer and judicial friends. We'll get a divorce. I can say you beat them and I hit you out of defense. I'll get you in prison faster than one two three. You'll never see the brats again. I'll have full custody."
   "Johnny.....please."
   "Both of you, go to bed. NOW."
  "Yes, sir." We both quickly said.
  "And Alyce," he added after Alex had left. "I know you have your little daddy issues. I know everything. Think the pregnant sixteen year old who lived in a trailer park will help your career?"
   "That never happened. I was a virgin until you and I..."
   "But everyone else doesn't know that."
   "F-"
   "Alyce. Really? You're going to use that language around children?"
   "You called Alex a little-"
   "Alyce." He smacked my face. I Turned to face the other direction in bed. I tried to muffle my tears. What happened. What happened? MY life was good. Johnny was perfect and sweet and romantic and kind and nice and....and not abusive. He isn't abusive. A voice in my head kept trying to push every negative though about Johnny away. He is only doing what you deserve. It's your fault. Guilt overcame me. Was it my thought? It was, wasn't it. I'm so stupid! He's mad since I'm having trouble losing those last five pounds from my pregnancy. That's what's wrong. That's what's wrong. Maybe if I start skipping meals....maybe if I stop eating breakfast. No sugar. Salads and water. If I diet, then Johnny will stop. It's my fault. Johnny has trouble expressing his anger. That's why he hits me. Everyone does that. It's normal. My thoughts twisted and turned, until I'd drawn myself up as the issue. Johnny wasn't being cruel to Alex. He was mad at me for not being a good mother. It was my fault.
  "Mommmmma!" Tiffi began to cry. Seven a.m. I got up and walked into her room. I picked her up and took her into the hall.
  "Look Tiffi." I cooed, rocking her. "Look, look at Bridgeport." The winter weather swirled around the city, making it picture perfect. The city was beautiful. I was lucky, to live in a gorgeous, urban city and to live in my fabulous penthouse. Not mine. I corrected. Johnny's.
  "Bwigepow." She tried to say Bridgeport.

  "Yes, Bridgeport." I smiled, kissing her nose. She'd stopped crying. I stared out the window, mystified. "Today's your birthday..."
   "Happy bwirthday to me!"
   "Happy birthday! You and Lloyd turn three today! Can you say three?" Lloyd. I still hate that name. I hate it even more now that Johnny's abusing-no helping me. He's being mean to help me. Constructive criticism. Maybe Lloyd will go by his middle name, Flynn. Lloyd James Janes. Johnny had picked both names.
  "Twee?"
   "Yes, three! You're so smart. Yes you are!"
   "Thank oo, mommy."
   "Alyce?" Johnny stood behind me.
   "Yes?"
   "Isn't tomorrow those, uh, people's birthdays?"
   "If you mean your second son and only daughter, than no."
   "Really?"
   "Yes."
   "So when is it? Next week?"
   "Try today."
   "Today? Huh. I can't be bothered with all this tuff to remember. I have work. Let's get it over with."
   "Over with?"
   "Yeah, got a problem? I'm working my a-"
   "Hehehe! Hwello dada." Tiffi cooned.
   "Hey, uh, Tanya."
   "Tanya! Are you insane-"
   "Alyce," He slapped me. "Please, continue."
   "Tiffani. Your daughters name is Tiffani."
   "Really?"
   "For three years it hasn't changed."
    "Oh.....well lets get this over with. I'll get the cake out. You get thing two."
    "He has a name."
    "Right, Lewis." 
    "Lloyd! You picked the name yourself!"

    "Whatever. The brats are going to move out and will be gone soon enough. Why bother remembering all this personal crap?" He stormed downstairs. He didn't use to be this way. What changed?
   "Happy birthday," I sang alone as Johnny held Tiffani. That was the second time he's bothered touching her.
   "Aw! Look at how pretty your are!" I cooed to her. I styled her hair and dressed her in a little jean romper dress with leggings and ballet flats. This was why I'd always wanted girl. Styling hair, buying dresses and shoes, the adorable little outfits. This is why all moms want a baby girl. The drama, the innocence, the boyfriends.....nothing that I could relate to.
  
  "Well. I'm  done." Johnny literally dropped Tiffi, as I screamed. I leaned forwards and caught her.
   "You dropped her!"
   "I know."
   "Ab-" Stop. He'd hit you if you said anything. "Never mind. What about Lloyd and his birthday?"
   "Oh. Well, guess I'll miss it."
   "Miss it? It'll take five minutes!"
   "I'm busy." He grabbed his coat and walked out. This is what I was living with. Because you're fat. Like an elephant. I bet your thighs are huge. You look obese. I  pushed the blame away from Johnny and placed it on myself.

   "Poor...Jamie..." Jamie. A nickname version of James. I was calling him by his middle name. A name I could stand.
   "Happy birthday," I sang once again.
   "Hwappy bwirthday Jamie!" Tiffi chimed in.
   "Oh, babies...." I set them on the floor, then sat down next to them. I leaned forwards onto my palms and cried. I cried for me, I cried for them, I cried for life.
   Did I really think starving myself would fix anything? I knew deep down it wouldn't. But I couldn't let Johnny be the bad guy. My husband. Husband.....husband! If I made sure to not think bad about him,he might be nicer. No he won't. I  stood up and picked up the twins.
  "Mom?" Alex stood in his PJs, rubbing hi eyes, on the last step.
  "Alex. Good morning. About last night...."
  "Dad said not to talk about it. He'll hit me again if I do." He gasped and his hands flew to cover his mouth.
   "Alex, you can say whatever you want. Dad won't touch you." I wish I could say that with confidence.
   "Really?"
   "Yes, Really. Would I lie to you?"
   "No." He smiled.
   "Want to play with Jamie?"
   "Okay." I set Jamie back down, so Alex could play patty cake.
   "Alex, please forget what daddy did."
   "Okay."
   "Thanks. Want cake?"
   "For breakfast?"
   "Sure." I smiled.
   "Awesome!"
    Maybe I'm not exactly a bad mom. Maybe Johnny is just in a phase. Like Alex's I'll-only-eat-pizza phase. That's what's wrong.  Nothing more. A phase. Johnny. Phase. I sat next to Alex and indulged in a piece of strawberry cream cake. Delicious. A little family owned grocery store that sells the best home grown veggies and fruit makes fabulous desserts. I wish I could cook that well. Maybe if I cooked better Johnny would like me better. No! NO! It isn't about your cooking. The voice in my head is right. I wished I'd never thought that sentence. It's about your waist size. Size zero. Johnny loves that. Not size four. Johnny loves zero. Z-E-R-O. That's what Johnny loves. He doesn't want a fat cow! I'm not a fat cow. Four is actually really skinny for someone who popped out three kids. Four is skinny for everyone! Anyone that's a ten is probably doing well. Ten is good. And I'm a four! That means four is great! Ten isn't bad, so four is great. Haha. Look at the fatty, trying to lie to herself. 
   "Are you done?" I asked Alex.
   "Yep, thanks."
   "No problem, honey." I cleaned up the dishes and went to the bedroom. I sat on the floor and forced my stomach's contents up. There, Johnny would love me. Why did I have to get his approval? Why could I just learn that one abusive man's approval wasn't worth it? Why couldn't I leave? Why? It was just like when my dad left...I couldn't accept the fact that the person I loved might not be perfect; I had to take the blame and place it on myself. Only this time, it was a thousand times worse.