Saving Face

Saving Face

“Won’t it be dull when we rid ourselves of all these demons haunting us, to keep us company? Won’t it be odd to be happy like we always thought we’re supposed to feel, but never seem to be?”
~The Barenaked Ladies

Margaret Billings slowly walked towards the half open bathroom door and pushed it open. She gasped when she saw what was inside. There on the edge of the bathtub one leg in the other out with his back leaning up against the wall sat Tom. On the floor just below his left hand lay a bloodied pocketknife.
Tom’s right hand was hanging down inside the bathtub just over the drain; blood flowing slowly from the vertical gashes deep in his wrist. The blood ran down his finger tips and dripped off into the bathtub, and down into the drain. Margaret wretched and looked away. She felt as if her heart was about to burst from her chest, her breathing was growing shallow and she began to feel faint.
She stood and caught her breath then she slowly turned around and looked back into the bathroom. She walked cautiously over to him her whole body shaking; she reached out a quivering hand and put her fingers to his neck. She felt no pulse. She put her hand before his mouth and felt no breath. Slowly she stood straight again, and looked down at the body leaning against the wall. A tear rolled down her cheek as she continued to stare at his pale waxen face.
Margaret slowly lowered herself to the floor overcome with grief.

* * *
Mary began crying as she held herself tighter in the corner, “Please, stop. Please.” Tom did not head her words; he advanced again and struck out at her. She cried out in pain and he hit her in the face, again and again. “Stop, damn you. Stop.”
Tom grunted in anger and struck her again. Then he grabbed Mary and pulled her to her feet, he placed his hands roughly around her neck and began to squeeze.
She stood there choking desperately for breath for several seconds, then she regained her composure and struck out at Tom with her hand. Her nails scratched into his face and he let go of her letting her drop to the floor.
He raised his hand to strike again but stopped. He looked at her with the anger fading from his bloodshot eyes. Then he dropped his hand and turned and walked from the kitchen. As he left he turned and looked at her again, “I do not ever want to see you with him again. Do you understand me?” And then he walked off without waiting for a reply.
Mary slowly lifted her head and looked around. All she saw was the kitchen. Nothing out of place, nothing had been moved or disturbed. It looked like a happy couple’s kitchen. She looked through the doorway into the living room. She could only see one picture hanging on the wall, a picture of the two on them on their honeymoon.
Mary grabbed onto the edge of the table and lifted herself to her feet. She walked into the living room and stopped at the threshold. All around the room the things were placed with such accuracy, all that could be seen was evidence of a happy couple.

She remembered the party they had held when they came back from their honeymoon. Back then they had been a happy couple. They had invited all of their close friends, a few of Tom’s colleagues, and some close family members –her brother, and his cousin with his wife-and the party had been a great success. She had felt happy; she could remember greeting people with a smile, a real smile. These days when guests were over, or when she was out in public she would pretend to be happy, she would force a smile and hold Tom’s hand. And it had worked, no one suspected a thing.
Tom and she really did not have many problems, only when he had been drinking. He usually went out with his friends after work, and sometimes he would come home drunk and raving.
On this particular night he had come home just as her friend Jon was leaving. Jon had only been over to talk with her; they were good friends who had known each other since high school. Though they had dated briefly in college there was no longer anything between the two of them, except friendship. Tom did not believe her though, and when he came home to find Jon walking out the front door he had become enraged.
Tom had first begun shouting at her, and then he had struck her. Not hard at first but it was not long before he had backed her into the corner and struck her until she was sobbing.

She stood in the doorway looking at their honeymoon picture. They were standing on the beach in each other’s arms, and both of them were smiling. Mary felt more tears coming as she thought of how they used to be. She thought back to when they had been in love, really in love. Mary had constantly thought about him, and she had cherished every moment spent with him. Now their marriage was nothing but a chore, she spent as much time as she could outside of their house, and she enjoyed every second that Tom was gone.
Mary began to cry again. She walked over to the couch and sat down. She wiped a hand across her face, smearing her make-up. Mary no longer had the energy to fight, she could not stop him, and she could not face him. Not even about Margaret, she could do nothing.

Margaret was beautiful and young. She was at least seven years younger than Tom, and from the moment that they met Mary knew exactly what Tom thought of Margaret. He had looked at her in a special way. It was a look that Mary had never seen but once before, when she had first met him. Mary could remember it clearly; it was three days before their wedding and Margaret had just shown up at the hotel.
They were standing in the lobby talking to the caterer about desserts when Margaret came out of the elevator. Tom looked up from the list he was inspecting as Margaret walked up. His mouth immediately fell open a quarter inch or so. “Tom,” Mary said to regain his attention, at his name Tom immediately closed his mouth again. “Tom, this is my little sister Margaret.”
“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I didn’t know that Mary had a sister, though I can see a definite resemblance,” it sounded so innocent, but Mary knew Tom well enough to know that there was a lot more behind his words.
As she thought back to it Mary realized that she should have taken the warnings more seriously. Especially because it was Margaret.
Ever since they were old enough to be interested in boys Margaret had always been there ready to get whatever attention was available. Margaret had lost her virginity when she was fourteen and she had already been engaged twice by the time she graduated from college.
Margaret was the kind of person who would sleep with anyone who would sleep with her. And the fact that a man was married to her sister had probably just made it all the more exiting for her.
She had been flirting with Tom the entire weekend, and she had spent a lot of time at the reception trying to get Tom away from Mary so that she could hang on him for a while. Mary had tried her best to keep the two of them separated, and when they left the next day for their honeymoon Mary thought that the whole incident would be put behind them. How wrong she had been.

Mary sat on the couch looking around at how everything in the room had been placed, how the space had been filled. It all resembled something out of a movie, something that was too good to be true. Vacation pictures, wedding pictures, honeymoon pictures, knick knacks from their trips, and two family photographs up on the wall directly across from the couch.
One of the photos was of Mary’s family; her, both of her parents, Margaret, and their dog Mathew. The other was Tom’s family; him, his parents, and his three sisters. They were the only pictures in the whole room that did not reflect lies and deceit.
She was smiling in all of her pictures, but how many of those were real smiles? Her wedding picture.
That was the only photograph that she could remember being a real smile. As she thought of her marriage Mary began to cry again.
She cried herself to sleep on the couch that night.

Mary awoke to the sounds of someone moving around in the kitchen, she half opened her eyes and brought her watch up to her face. The thin gold hands showed that it was a little after seven o’clock.
She rubbed her eyes and sat up on the couch looking around again at the darkened room. She heard footsteps come out of the kitchen behind her. She slowly turned around and looked at Tom standing in the doorway holding a cup of coffee.
He walked over to her and handed her the cup. Then he sat down on the couch next to her. He turned and looked Mary right in the eyes, “I’m sorry I woke you but I have to talk. You remember last night when I tried to choke you? I didn’t mean it, I was drunk. I didn’t want to hurt you; I was a little upset that’s all.”
“A little upset?” asked Mary angrily, “you practically tried to kill me, and that’s not the first time it has happened. You have no excuse I don’t care whether you were drunk or not.”
“Do not accuse me like that,” he retorted rising to his feet, “you where the one who spent last night with Jon, not me. I had the right…”
“Right? Since when is it anyone’s right to beat someone else? You really are an arrogant bastard.” Mary stood as well, the anger in her voice apparent, “I could have you fined and jailed for all that you have done to me while you were drunk, you alcoholic bastard.” Anger flared in Tom’s eyes and he struck out at her again shouting with rage,
“Hold your tongue bitch. You have no right to talk to me like that.” Mary stumbled back spilling some of her coffee on the carpet.
“Look at that. Now I’ve gone and stained the carpet,” she said in a restrained voice with only a hint of hysteria. The she calmly lifted the cup and threw the steaming coffee directly into Tom’s face; she just ignored his shout of shock and pain. With the all for force of her leg behind it she brought up her knee right between his legs, he groaned in pain and collapsed onto the floor. She looked at him her face devoid of tears and her eyes devoid of any emotion at all. She spoke calmly like a nurse addressing a patient who is about to go through an operation, “You will never touch me again. And you will not see my sister anymore either, if you want sex you’re going to have to find someone else. I am not going to leave you, but as far as I am concerned you no longer live here.
“Now, I am going to go and take a shower. You will not disturb me. At nine you have to go to work, I do not want to see you here again until six o’clock tonight. You will not go out with your friends and you will not touch a drop of liquor. If we are supposed to be a happy couple then we shall eat dinner together at least every now and then.” Then she turned and walked down the hall into the bathroom.
Tom lay on the floor clutching his groin groaning in pain. He slowly turned over and attempted to get to his feet. He stumbled and caught himself on the side table. Then he gingerly hobbled into the kitchen for some ice.

Tom did not return at six, and by ten o’clock Mary had given up waiting. She went into her bedroom and closed and locked the door.
Mary undressed and climbed beneath the sheets of her bed. She reached over to the bedside table and switched off the lamp. The whole bedroom was plunged into complete darkness save for a thin sliver of light at the bottom of the door into the hall.
Mary fell asleep within ten minutes, and did not reawake until after ten the next morning.

The next morning after crawling out of bed Mary stood naked in the middle of the room examining herself in the full length mirror on the inside of the door. She looked herself up and down; she had once been very attractive, even more so than Margaret she thought. But now fatigue and stress and taken much of her beauty from her. Much of her upper body -her stomach, chest, and arms- was covered in bruises. Some were old and fading. But others were new, a few from just two days ago.
Along with the bruises Mary had deep fresh scars all up and down her left arm. There were five vertical scars along the inside of her wrist from when she had attempted to kill herself a little more than a month ago. They were beginning to heal, but Mary knew that they would always be there.
On her upper arm were many crisscrossing scars covering most of her arm. Most of them were shallow and would heal in a month or so, but some were deep and would always leave marks.
Mary began to cry quietly as she looked at herself ashamed of who she was and what she had done.
She gave a start when she heard someone knock on the bedroom door. She quickly pulled on her pajamas and wiped her eyes. She walked over to the door and placed her hand on the knob, “Tom, is that you?”
“Yes, please let me in. I just want to talk,” came his muffled voice through the door. He sounded drunk to Mary and she did not open the door.
“Go wait in the kitchen, I will be out in a minute,” She said calmly.
Mary waited at the door and listened until she was sure that Tom had gone into the kitchen. Then she turned back into the room, walked over to the closet and began to get dressed.

Twenty minutes later Mary walked into the kitchen. She was casually dressed in jeans and a blue tank top. She had her hair put up and she wore makeup. Her entire appearance showed someone who was in control of her life. She walked over to the table and sat down opposite Tom.
“Let’s make this quick, I have things that I have to do today. What is it you want?” She said in a calm relaxed voice.
“Mary,” Tom said. He was obviously trying to keep control of himself. Mary could not tell whether he was about to attack her or break down crying. She merely sat back, folded her arms and waited for him to continue. “Listen Mary, I want you to forgive me. I realize that I have been an ass, but I want to make it up to you. I still love you and I couldn’t bear losing you.”
He sounded sincere to Mary, but she could still not believe what she was hearing. Do you really believe yourself? Can you actually be sitting across from me telling me this bullshit? Mary felt almost like laughing, she smiled at him and spoke, “Tom, all of that stinks like horse shit. You have got your head so far up your ass that the bump in your throat is your nose. You can’t honestly believe that you can win me back with that. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you’ve done to me over the past six years.
“We both know that our whole marriage has been a charade. Neither one of us has been happy. In fact the only reason you are still married to me is it gives you easy access to my sister. Why, you fuck her more in a month than you’ve done me my entire life. I’m sorry Tom; there is no way that you can get me back.”
Tom stared at her astounded his mouth hanging open. After a few seconds he seemed to come back and he quickly closed it.
He cleared his throat to speak, but no words came out he just stared at her.
After a minute or so of their little staring contest Mary decided to break the silence. She let out a short laugh, “Okay Tom, I am not leaving you, just as I said. We are going to continue with our charade when we are in public. We shall go to parties like a happy couple, and we shall still visit our families on holidays. But, when we are here together I do not know you, and you do not know me.
“I will have the master bedroom, and the bathroom. You will have the guest room and bath. You will not set foot in that hall, and I won’t set foot in your hall. You will go to work everyday, and you will return home every day. You will not go out with your friends, except on Fridays, when you do I want you back here by eleven. And finally, this is what I am most adamant about; you will not see Margaret again. When you do see her it will be when the whole family is together.” Mary sat back and folded her arms again. She looked hard at Tom knowing that he was straining himself to try and get his head around all that he had just heard.
Finally Tom looked up his eyes were glazed over with lack of sleep combined with alcohol, but Mary knew what he was thinking.
He opened and closed his mouth several times, and then he stood up and walked from the room. She heard him go into their bedroom and begin taking things out of drawers.
After twenty minutes Mary got up from the table and walked into the bedroom. She saw all of Tom’s stuff laid out on the bed, and he was going through a few of the boxes, which they kept at the top of the closet, and he was removing several keepsakes and trinkets which belonged to him.
Mary stood in the door way and watched as Tom carried all of his things across their apartment from her room to the guest room. She watched him empty the bathroom, clean out the closet, and she watched as he took the lamp out of the corner and carried it down the hall into his room.
He had always loved that lamp. Perhaps that is why he’s never left me, because of the lamp. Mary let out a small laugh at the thought.

The two of them lived by her rules for a whole month without any problems. Mary almost began to enjoy herself. She went to the gym regularly and spent a lot of time with her friends. Tom went to work, and watched television at home.
By the end of that month Tom began to crack and Mary did not catch on until one evening when they were eating dinner. Tom looked up from his plate and stared at her. It took several seconds for Mary to realize he was watching her; she put down her fork and very pointedly rose from the table and walked to the refrigerator for some water.
Mary had just turned to go sit down again when Tom spoke, “How long has it been?”
“Since when?” She asked innocently.
“Since we last made love,” he said quietly. Though he did not show it Mary sensed a hint of depression in his voice.
“Since we made love? It’s been almost five years,” She said bitterly as she sat back down.
“Five years? What’re you talking about? We got married five years ago,” Tom said with astonishment.
“You didn’t ask when the last time was that we had sex, you asked when the last time was that we made love,” she whispered. Mary tried to look Tom in the eye but he would not meet hers. After a few seconds Mary saw a tear roll down Tom’s cheek.
“I’m sorry,” He whispered. Then he rose and walked from the kitchen.

The next morning Mary did not awake until after Tom had left for work. She went about her day as usual. She made breakfast, she went to work, and on her way home she stopped off at the gym.
When Mary came home she found the apartment to still be empty, but she did not worry since it was not yet six o’clock. However, by the time seven o’clock had come and gone she began to get worried. She was just getting ready to pick up the phone to call Margaret when she heard Tom’s key in the lock. She did not hear the door open.
Mary stood in the middle of the kitchen waiting, but she heard nothing else. She quickly walked into the front hall and pulled the door open. She found Tom bending over fiddling with his key in the lock as if he had forgotten how to use it.
“What are you doing out here?” She asked suspiciously.
“What the hell do you think? I’m trying to get into my home. Now get out of my way bitch,” he shouted at her in a slurred voice as he pushed her aside. As he walked past Mary could smell the whiskey strong in his breath.
“Don’t speak to me like that,” She hissed at him grabbing him by the shirt collar. He spun around his eyes full of anger.
“I will speak to you any way I want to. You are the one who is keeping me prisoner here, and now I’m rebelling. Now get away from me you whore,” he shouted as he pushed her arm out of the way, when she resisted he struck out at her his hand smacking into her face.
Mary let out a cry of surprise and pain. Tom struck out again, this time with his fist. It connected with her face. He did not stop at that. Tom continued hitting her over and over again until she had sunk to the floor sobbing. Then he began kicking out at her.
Mary let out one single harsh obscenity and then she grabbed his foot twisting it around. Still holding onto the foot Mary rose to her feet and jerked Tom’s legs from underneath him.
Tom fell like a rock crashing down on the floor. Mary stood over him for a second sobbing. Then with a sudden decisiveness which she had never felt before Mary turned and walked from the room.
It took her twenty minutes to pack up all of her essential things. Then after putting her suitcase out in the hall next to the still unconscious Tom she walked quickly over to the phone and called the police.

Mary lived with her parents for a few months during the trial and while Tom was in jail. She did not speak to Margaret the whole time she was there. In fact Margaret had only come by once to talk to her; and Mary had refused to even be in the same room with her.
Margaret had done more to Mary than Tom ever could have; she had deliberately taken her husband and slept with him. And she had enjoyed it; she had enjoyed the sex, the secrecy, and the knowledge that she was very steadily ruining her sister’s marriage. Mary had not been able to speak with her because she felt that if she looked into Margaret’s eyes that she would not be able to restrain herself. Mary needed nothing more than her own two hands to kill her, and if given the chance she knew that she would.

The day that Tom got out of jail was the same day the Mary moved out of her parent’s house. She did not go back to her old apartment in Boston, she knew that Tom would come looking for her. Instead she went all the way across the country to Seattle. There was a publishing firm there which had offered her a job and she had decided to take it so that she could get away from Tom and Margaret as soon as she could.
The only hard part about leaving had been having to say goodbye to Jon. They had grown close during the months of the trial, and when the divorce came through while Tom was in jail they had begun dating. They had slept together for the first time a week before Mary was due to leave for Seattle. She felt that it was possibly the worst way to end a good relationship, but she had to make sacrifices.
Mary had settled into her new apartment and her new job as quickly as she could. And before long she was feeling much better. With the separation between them and the help of a psychiatrist Mary began to feel that maybe one day she could get over the horror which she had gone through in the past five years.
Mary’s scars never would heal, but she soon began to accept them as what they were. And a few weeks after arriving in Seattle the bruises around her neck finally faded. The bruises were left from the climbing rope which she had so carefully placed around her neck in the darkness of her closet, and had it not been for the loose screws in the hanger bar Mary would probably have died that night. But she was grateful that she had not.

Almost a year after Tom’s release from prison Mary returned to Boston to see her family. She came home three days before Christmas.
She had visited Jon, and they had made passionate love and spent as much time as they could together. And finally on Christmas Eve she saw Margaret again. It had not been pleasant, but she no longer had the urge to rip Margaret’s head from her shoulders. But she did not know that Margaret was still sleeping with Tom.

Tom awoke at the sound of Margaret coming into the bedroom; he turned over and smiled at her as she climbed in next to him. He ran his hands over her naked body lying next to him and smiled again.
Their bodies came together with an unrelenting passion, not love, passion.

Several hours later Tom lay in bed next to Margaret listening to her breathing. A tear formed in the corner of his eye. He felt guilt slowly pouring over him like water in a shower. There were flashes before his eyes, images, pictures. He saw Mary lying in the corner sobbing, crying out for mercy. Then he saw her again, lying on the beach, laughing, smiling. She had been happy.
Tom slowly climbed out of bed. He turned to the bedside table, opened the drawer and carefully extracted a pocket knife from all of the other contents of the drawer.
He walked calmly down the hall into the bathroom and closed the door. He did not notice that it had not latched. He turned and sat on the edge of the bathtub as he looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were once again devoid of tears. He felt nothing now, only a deep remorse.
He turned and placed one foot inside the bathtub.
Tom let out a deep sigh as he carefully opened the longest blade of the pocket knife. He lifted his right hand with his palm facing up and he slowly clenched it into a fist.
Then, ever so methodically, he placed the tip of the blade at his wrist. He pushed the point in until a bead of blood appeared, and he closed his eyes and put his head back.
Tom dug the knife into his skin as hard as he could and slowly pulled the tip up his arm. Then when the gash was almost four inches long he withdrew the blade and placed it on his wrist again less than half an inch from the first gash and pushed the tip down into his skin again.