*
Max hadn’t returned by the time the sun sunk low beneath the horizon and the moon reigned supreme in the night sky. Unable to sleep, Alice sat at the edge of their large bed, her mind racing over the violence she’d suffered at the hands of a man who, until then, had done nothing to physically harm her.
Sure, he’d been temperamental in the past, he’d raised his voice, he’d even grabbed her on occasion, but every time she saw him struggle against his own anger, and eventually, he’d let her go.
After the events of that afternoon, though, Alice wondered if she should leave him – but the thought scared her because it meant she’d be alone.
Her hands played over the small object she gently cradled between them. A symbol of vulnerability and pain, Alice had preserved the tiny white paper crane that Max had created when he told her the story of the scar that followed him from the heartbreaking childhood he’d lived into the emotional mess that became his adult life.
Alice still wasn’t sure of all the secrets Max carried, but she knew he struggled from day to day, his anger and wrath a burden that weighed on his shoulders with every step he took, a monster he fought every second of every day.
Whereas his youth had created in him something fierce and volatile, hers had created in her something fearful and timid. Two halves of the same whole, two souls that carried with them the turmoil of a life abused at the hands of the people who should have cared for them the most.
It was the shared story that tied them to each other, the story that connected them so completely that Alice couldn’t forget the love she felt for Max despite the abuse she’d suffered at his hands.
In many ways, he never grew from that small boy who only wanted to play like other children, and for that, she could understand him completely. Like him, Alice never matured as she would have if given the balance and care implicit to the seeds of a normal life.
In truth, they weren’t much different than the plants Alice nurtured from seedlings into full bloom. With the proper soil and care, those plants were a wondrous beauty, their color and smell a blessing for the world in which they lived. However, if they were damaged in their vulnerable stage, if they were denied the nourishment they required or cut down too many times, they never regained the ability to produce the same fullness of flowers, the same perfect shades of leaves and stems that made them unique amongst the variety of flora that surrounded them.
All Max wanted was a family that loved him. All he needed was a home that spared him the chaos of his earlier life.
That was his reason for the order and cleanliness he demanded, and Alice wondered: If she could provide him the comfort and care he required, would it help diminish the demons that still plagued him?
Standing up from the bed, she walked across the room and placed the paper crane on the bureau that faced their bed, her head turning slightly to listen closely when the sound of the front door downstairs opened and closed.
Max was home, and she hated that she didn’t know whether to be happy he returned or fearful for the damage he could cause.
With the house so quiet that even the chirping of the crickets outside sounded like a loud, melodic chorus, Alice could track Max’ movements as he made his way up the stairs.
His steps were a warning in themselves. This was a fact Alice was learning, each heavy, booted thud a reminder that she was not alone. That he was coming for her.
He'd taken eighteen of those warning steps as he climbed the stairs towards her.
Eighteen beats that counted down her future.
Eighteen beats that cried out in their slow, foreboding tone, beware the monsters.
But would it be his monster that walked through their bedroom door that evening? Or would it be the man she loved returning home to rescue her from the loneliness that ensnared her when he wasn’t by her side?
His shadow darkened the doorway.
Alice took a deep, steadying breath and turned to see what part of her husband had returned home to her.
What she found shattered her heart, the splintered pieces falling to her feet and her arms reaching out to take the broken man into an embrace that would never quite make him whole.
His face a mask of guilt and remorse, self-loathing, shame and sorrow, Max closed the distance between them in several long legged strides.
They both cried as they held onto each other, both shedding the emotions and pain that left scars in places too deep to be repaired.
Picking her up so that her toes barely brushed over the surface of the carpet, Max walked her back to the bed, sat her gently on the edge and kneeled down before her to rest his forehead against the planes of her trembling knees.