Into the Storm

She nodded, still looking upset.

“The memories keep coming into my dreams. Sometimes, they’re so real it’s like I’m back in them.”

I continued to stroke her leg in comfort. “Maybe it would help if you said them. Talked about them out loud. Get them out of your head.”

“I’ve had to keep it all in. I never had anyone to tell, Joshua.”

“You do now. You can tell me.”

Her gaze faltered. “What if you look at me differently? What if what I tell you makes you think … less of me?”

I waited until she met my eyes again and I shook my head. “That is simply not possible.”

I leaned forward and placed the laptop on the floor. I patted my lap silently and extended my hand, helping her across the sofa. I settled her flush against my chest and leaned back, holding her closely. I gazed down into her deep blue pools of pain.

“Will you tell me, Rabbit? Can you do that?”

She drew in a small breath and hesitated. Then she nodded but still didn’t speak. I waited patiently and finally she spoke, beginning with the sudden loss of her parents.

I listened.

It was only when the room grew dark that I shifted to turn on a light, never letting go of her. I needed her to see she had my full attention and support while she spoke, releasing the poison of her memories into the air around us.

She spoke of the last two and half years as if she was telling the story of a stranger. I rarely interrupted her, not wanting to stop her from getting the words out, only interjecting the odd comment or question when she seemed to falter.

She talked of her loneliness and isolation, especially once she realized what a mistake she had made marrying Brian, and of the first of many physical assaults she would endure. I hated hearing about how she felt fearful all the time; of never being able to meet his expectations; of wondering what her next error would be that would bring his wrath down upon her. I struggled to remain calm when she told me about the physical and mental abuse she suffered at his hands. My rage grew and burned. For the first time in my life, I felt the need to actually hurt another human being. My fury was so strong as I thought of the countless, careless scars he had inflicted on her, so many of them unseen to the human eye, that I fought to remain seated. It was only witnessing her pain of reliving the memories, her hand gripping mine, her body shaking in my arms that kept me anchored to the sofa.

Eventually, she stopped speaking and I realized we had arrived to the day of the snowstorm.

“What sent you into the storm, Rabbit?” I asked quietly.

“It wasn’t storming when I left.” She shrugged, her eyes gazing past me to the dark window.

“We had a charity function, a brunch, for the library. It was for the reading program. I was meeting Brian there since I went early to help set up. When I went to change, I realized the woman I had bought the suit from had put the wrong blouse in the garment bag. It had come with a brilliant blue one I knew Brian wouldn’t approve of, so I had also bought a beige one to wear with it. I’m not sure how the mix-up happened, but it did.” She sighed deeply, so much pain echoing in the sad sound. “I didn’t have time to send for the car and get the beige one from home and Brian was already on his way, so I wore it; the blue one. It was so pretty and coordinated well with the suit. And, since it was all about the kids I thought Brian would just let it go other than expressing his displeasure. After all, it was just a blouse. The color suited the atmosphere I was trying to create, you know? And, the kids loved it and were so sweet when they told me how pretty I looked.”

She looked at me and I nodded in understanding.

“But it more than displeased him. As soon as I saw him, I knew something was wrong. He was already angry and, when he saw me, his eyes raked over me with so much disgust that I knew I would pay for wearing an inappropriate color and ‘showing off.’”

“I don’t understand, Rabbit,” I interrupted gently. “What is wrong with blue? Or any other color?”

“Black, navy, and brown, Joshua. Real ladies with class only wear neutral colors. At least as stated in the gospel by Brian. They blend into the background and never detract from their husband. They never call attention to themselves. They never step out of line. They never wear bright blue.” The words were recited from memory. Obviously they had been drummed into her head over and over again. She was quiet for a minute, her eyes downcast. When she looked up, I saw the tears beginning to form.

Melanie Moreland's books