Family Inheritance (9 page)

After a few weeks, the family settled into a routine of life and sessions with Raymond
Welsh. At times they danced around each other like they were stepping on eggshells,
and at other moments small windows of communication and connection would open where
they would each join in, as though they were gingerly putting their toes into a lake
to test out the temperature of the water.

Helene, Bill, and Thomas were all trying to right the capsized boats that each of
their lives had become, trying to figure out how to be comfortable in their lives
once they were right-side up again. Taking steps forward and faltering several steps
backward, they were dancing a dance of reconnection and recovery.

Chapter 9

Northern Minnesota

“Thelma, I was reading this woman's magazine that I picked up at the grocery store.
It had an article about rape.” Alice took a deep breath. “It says it's rape if a
husband has sex when a wife doesn't want to.” Again, she drew a deep breath. “What
do you think?”

Alice and her best friend, Thelma, were sitting at Thelma's kitchen table enjoying
their daily gossip sessions with a fresh brewed pot of coffee and bags of sweet treats
from the Day Old Bakery.

Thelma just stared at Alice. “I think you'd better stop reading those magazines that
put fancy ideas in your head. If a husband wants his wife, it's her duty. It's not
rape. Get that rubbish outta your head.”

“But he hits me,” Alice bitterly spat out her protest.

“Sometimes men just can't control themselves. It's no big deal.” Thelma seemed to
dismiss Alice's words as easily as if she had just commented on the weather.

“But I'm just so tired of Jake hitting me and forcing his way into me. He'll do it
every night for weeks at a time. Then he'll just leave me alone for a long time.
It don't make sense. There's gotta be better. This can't be right. That article says
it's not.” Alice refused to let go of the subject. She needed someone to know what
she was going through, someone to tell her she deserved better, and she hoped her
best friend would understand.

But Thelma replied with obvious cynicism. “An article says it ain't right? That's
just some writer talking. There ain't no better for you and me. You think some knight
in shining armor's gonna come and rescue you? Or you think you can go off and get
a job, work eight hours a day, and still take care of your family by yourself? You've
got a man, don't ya? Just put up with what you gotta put up with and get on with
life. Life's not meant to be a fairytale, Alice. If you'd quit dreaming and reading
those magazines, you'd be better off.”

Defeat swallowed Alice. “Does Al still hit you?”

Thelma lowered her head. “Yeah, once in a while, but not so often anymore. I quit
asking for it. If I keep my mouth shut, I'm okay.”

“But it's not right. It just can't be right. Not all men hit their wives, they just
don't.”

“And who says? Some fancy writer? Your father hit your mother. My father hit my mother.
Al hits me. Jake hits you. What's that tell you, Alice? Who do you know that's got
it different?”

“I betcha my sister Helene don't get hit by that lawyer husband of hers.”

“So, you think you're gonna get a lawyer husband, Alice? Just quit your moaning and
be glad of what you've got.” Thelma got up and walked toward the television. “Besides,
I don't wanna talk no more.
As the World Turns
is coming on and I haven't missed
one of these for years. Did you know that . . .” and she went on to talk about the
characters in the soap opera as though she knew them personally.

Alice was silent.
What's wrong with me? It just don't feel okay no more to be hit
or have Jake's kind of sex.
She felt like a balloon full of feelings that was getting
ready to pop and spill its contents all over everything around her.

“Where the hell have you been?” Jake raged at her as she came in the door.

“At Thelma's.”

“
Damn it, Alice. I'm hungry, and I expect you to be here when I want something to
eat. A man deserves to have his meals made for him and his house clean.”

Alice didn't think before she spoke. “Maybe a working man does.”

Jake turned on her with dark, evil eyes. “What did you say?”

Alice realized she had made a mistake. “Nothing, Jake. I'll go get your lunch.”

As she turned to leave, Jake grabbed her shoulder. “I said, what did you say?”

“Nothing, Jake, honest.” Alice had seen this look in his eyes before, and she was
scared. When Jake got this mad, he could really hurt her. He broke some ribs one
time. She'd lied to the doctor and said she fell. Then there were the times when
her eyes were black. She always said she bumped into a door.
I shouldn't push him.
He's my husband, and this is what husbands do when they get angry.

Jake's hand rose high into the air and came down across her face, throwing Alice
against the wall with the impact. She tried to run from the room. Jake pursued her
and grabbed the collar of her shirt. “You fat bitch! Don't you ever talk to me like
that again! You should be glad I stay here with you. Who else would stay married
to an ugly pig like you? If it wasn't for the kids, especially Sarah, I wouldn't
hang around here at all!”

At the mention of Sarah's name, a leering smile lingered on Jake's face. A sick lump
formed in Alice's throat.

Clinging to the wall, Alice braced herself for more anger, but for some reason Jake's
anger died. He muttered something, turned, headed into the bathroom, and left her
alone leaning against the wall with rage buried deep within her belly.

Alice tottered to her bedroom, locked the door, grabbed a stash of chocolate, and
began shoving it into her mouth, but her sobbing made eating impossible. Finally,
she just curled up into a fetal position on the bed and let the sobs come, jamming
her fist into her mouth so the sounds wouldn't escape. So Jake wouldn't hear.

A few hours later, the house was quiet and Alice was curled up on the sofa with a
pile of magazines. Jake often yelled at her because she bought so many from the counter
at the grocery store, but she liked reading them and looking at the pictures.
How
else would I know how other people live? Do they really live like that? I wonder
what Helene's house is like. I wonder what it would be like to be rich.
Alice had
never had thoughts like these. But they were beginning to
form in her mind and with
them came a restlessness, a desire for change that had not yet fully made itself
known.

As she flipped through the pages, Alice's expression changed as she came to an article,
“I Was Raped by My Father.” Fear overwhelmed her. She had read a lot of similar articles
lately. She didn't understand why they drew her interest, but something deep within
her pulled her toward the information contained in those pages.

As she read the article, something inside of Alice pulled her back toward her childhood.
There was a familiarity in some of the behaviors the writer talked about, but Alice
didn't understand where those feelings were coming from. While her father had often
beat her, she had no memories of any type of sexual abuse. Yet the words penetrated
into a place of knowingness for her. There was something about the article that felt
real, both from her past and in her present, and left a sick feeling in the pit of
her stomach.

After finishing the article, Alice turned down the corner of the page to mark it.
She then carried the magazine to her bedroom to put in a stack that she would read
again.

When she returned to the living room, Sarah was standing by the door. “Where you
going?” Alice asked her.

Tossing her a disinterested look, Sarah curtly replied, “On a date.”

“Sarah, you can't wear that short skirt. I can just about see your panties.” Alice's
voice was sharper than she intended it to be. “Are you asking for trouble? What kind
of a date are you going on anyway?”

“It's none of your business!” Sarah snapped as she applied bright red lipstick.

“What do you mean it's none of my business? I'm your mom. It's my business. No daughter
of mine is going out looking like that,” Alice replied as she flopped down onto the
overstuffed sofa that was so worn that bits of stuffing peeked out from under the
fabric.

Sarah's fair complexion turned crimson as her voice rose into a scream. “You're telling
me how I should look? Have you taken a good look in the mirror lately? If you weren't
such a fat pig, maybe your husband would stay home more and maybe he'd leave me alone!”

Alice was used to Sarah's meanness. She'd been accepting it for years. Jake
treated
her that way, so how could she expect anything different from her kids? But tonight,
Sarah's words caused that sickness in the pit of Alice's stomach to return. Panic
charged up her body. “What do you mean?” Unable to look at Sarah, Alice's eyes stared
at the peeling paint on the windowsill behind her.

“Never mind. Just leave me alone.” Sarah turned and ran out of the house, the torn
screen door slamming behind her.

Alice stared at the door. Horrible visions flashed before her eyes as the words from
those magazine articles about sexual abuse started to play through her head like
a bad movie. She sat on the couch, frozen with overwhelming foreboding, not knowing
what to do, think, or feel. Denial and reality fought a ferocious battle in her mind.
Finally, exhausted from the confusion and fear, she walked back to her bedroom and
picked up one of the magazines in the stack by her bed.

“Mom? Why are you crying again? Has Dad been mean to you?” Sam, all clean from his
bath, padded into her bedroom.

Feeling afraid and vulnerable, Alice reached out to him. Sam's surprise showed on
his face. Then he smiled and curled up next to her.

“Why are you crying?” he repeated as he snuggled closer to her. With a timid smile
on his face, he asked, “I ain't been that bad, have I?”

Alice remained quiet, so Sam peered into her eyes and repeated, “I ain't been that
bad, have I?”

Alice was startled back into the moment by Sam's question. She glanced at her son's
freckled face and remembered the mess of candy and ice cream wrappers and chip bags
she had found under his bed during one of her rare attempts to clean his room. “No,
Sam, you ain't been that bad. But you can't steal no more, ya hear?”

“Who says I did?” Sam pulled away defensively.

Alice felt overwhelmed. The article loomed in her mind while her fear for Sam surfaced.
“I found all those candy and ice cream wrappers under your bed, and I know you don't
have money for that kind of stuff.” She pulled her son close to her as her world
plummeted around her. She knew she was failing her kids, but she didn't know what
to do about it. Behind the feelings of defeat that permeated her life, Alice began
to feel a small bit of determination to make things better. She had no idea how to
do it or what that even meant,
but fear for her children ignited a fierceness in
Alice that she hadn't known was even there.

Alice put her hands on either side of his face. “It ain't right to steal, Sam. You
can go to prison for that. You gotta do better. You just gotta do better.” Passion
filled her voice as she continued. “You gotta make something of yourself, Sam! You
and me, we gotta work on that.” Her mind frantically searched for something she could
do right now to help Sam. Something that would help her feel that she had some control
over what happened to her kids. “I'm gonna start helping you with your homework.
That's what I'll do!” She smiled at her son, then the look on her face became very
serious. “You and me, Sam, we gotta make it better for you. It ain't too late for
you.” Alice pulled him in for a tight hug.