Devotion: For Love or Honor, page 9
“Well, maybe that is why you aren’t pregnant, did you ever think of that?” I cringe at his words, a smart reply on the tip of my tongue, again, I don’t go there it isn’t safe. One day soon, I will be free, and Martin and his anger issues will be my least concern.
#
Jenny
I am sound asleep when I hear the bedroom door crash open, and my husband stumbles towards the bed. I predicted wrong, right about drinking more but wrong in my assumption he would stay asleep on the couch. I realize much too quickly he has broken into the liquor cabinet again moving up from the beer. Yikes, he will feel like shit tomorrow.
“Jenny. Let’s make a bbbbaaabbby.” I almost laugh at his half-hearted attempt to be sweet and loving while he is a falling down drunk.
“No, Martin I have told you over and over no sex for you when you are drunk. When you stop drinking every night, then I will consider having you back in my bed. Go to the other room.” His voice booms out, causing me to jump.
“No, this is my fucking house bitch. I just fucking let you live here. It is your wifely duty to fuck me when I say.” My husband has made me angry, yes, hurt my feelings, hell yes. Intimidated me enough to let me know if I leave, I need to be prepared to run. Not until now have I been this scared in my own house. Now, I am fucking scared for my life. Trembling, I invite him the last place I would consider having him next to me in the bed.
“Hey, come lie down with me, cuddle, and we will see what happens.” I swallow hard as he staggers towards the other side of the bed, where he has not slept once in quite some time. He collapses on his pillow, clothes and all muttering something about me and getting it on. I soothe the monster in my bed saying every dirty thing that comes to mind. I am in luck; the beast becomes a snoring bear within seconds of hitting the pillow, not hesitating to ease off the bed escaping the room.
I dress for work in the guest bathroom after leaving my bed the very second, he began to snore, sleeping the remainder of the night behind a locked door. I scrutinize my appearance in the mirror. I am nothing special, brown hair, bland eyes, medium breasts, and only a slight curve to the hips. I am toned and athletic but not overdone, a raving beauty of curves I am not. I thought when Martin Stephenson began paying attention to me in Chemistry class at the university; I felt lucky. All the other girls were jealous. Shit, what I wouldn’t do to trade places with them now. All through college, even when he was working towards his degree while spending his daddy’s money going to parties and expensive cars, I never saw the signs that I was making this horrible mistake.
I walked down the aisle with first love in my eyes and stupidity stamped across my forehead. Even my dad tried to talk me out of it, my mom, on the other hand, was much too intrigued by the possibilities of the money.
My throat clogs at the thought of losing my dad a year after we were married. Thankfully, we were happy that first year I would hate for my dad to have died believing I was miserable, as I am now. I will wait to call my mom. When I last talked to her about my marital problems, she had not wanted to hear it; instead, she insisted we needed to make it work. I fear now having to break it to her that the marriage is indeed over.
I focus on getting dressed today. The weather is cold and dreary with overcast skies and massive clouds. I am hoping all of this moves out before the wedding on Saturday I had a few places outside of the church to photograph the couple after their vows in mind. I pull a light pink shirt and cardigan, adding charcoal gray slacks and boots to keep my feet dry today. They are also very comfortable since I will have a busy day with my senior classes. The moment I allow my mind to drift in the general direction of the day ahead, it finishes with Ryan. Shit.
Ryan
I wear Jenny’s jacket to school today. I can’t help myself. I found a note in a small pocket, she must have written her dad years ago, and she signed it love Jenny, in the same curly scroll that she used to write my assignment list. The jacket smells like her, I imagine to her it reminds her of her dad, but to me, it is all her. The very same girl I sat across from in the hot car with hair dripping wet, and I wanted more than anything to dip my tongue into her waiting mouth. I had a night of restless sleep, spending most of the time with the evidence of my interest in Jenny firmly smashed between me and the mattress to prevent me from rubbing one out. If and when I ever get the chance to be with her, I will not have wasted one night with my hand. I am saving myself for her.
I shake my head as I jog to get into the building before she does. I am running late today because of my lack of sleep spent thinking of her and that moment where I came so close to saying damn to the world, to touch my lips to hers. But I didn’t and I won’t not until one, I am no longer her student, I would never risk her career or livelihood for that. I want more than a fling and something starting while I am still her student could never be anything more. And then second, I am waiting for her to realize how miserable her husband makes her and finally be free of him.
I push those unattainable wishes away, for fear I will give in long before the right time comes instead, I focus on each day I do have with her. I am still wearing the jacket when I take my place in front of the locker. I am just in time, stopping myself before my jaw drops when she rounds the corner, in a pink shirt and sweater, dark gray pants hugging her hips and I thought the khaki pants were my favorite. Holy crap, I can’t wait to see the backside, but for now, I focus on the tinge of pink blush to her cheeks as she nears. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head in some knot with shiny silver earrings dangling from her ears. Geez, she is sexy. I swear her breasts rise in front of my gaze as her chest rises and falls a little faster as she nears.
“Good morning Mrs. Stephenson.”
“Good morning Mr. Raines.”
I feel the familiar burn to my cheeks as she passes, my gaze shifts directly towards the shape of her ass hugged by the charcoal color material leaving me to wonder if it feels as soft as it looks. At that thought, I know I will have to keep on her jacket for most of the class while I am willing my body to calm down instead of returning to my dreams of the night before.
It isn’t until I am seated in class, and I have a chance to study her appearance. There is more than the pink to her cheeks today, her eyes are puffy, and even beneath her concealing makeup, I can detect the deep hue of purple. I want to ask her if she was unable to sleep also.
Jenny is not quite herself today. I can see it in little things that she does, at first, I thought it was due to our moment alone in her car, but now I think it is much, much more. I wish I could ask her. Miss Hargreaves, I have seen how she looks at me, watching me sometimes biting her finger. Her blatant appreciation of my appearance is not much different than that of the majority of the female student body; more attention I do not warrant or welcome. But what I would not give to know why Jenny is sad, might have me taking a chance and asking her fellow teacher.
I wait, our gazes meet as I submit the photos for the paper, our final deadline today for it to go to print by Friday to add to this months, edition of the town paper. I am pleased with my coverage on the fire of one of the town’s oldest restaurants and the article I wrote. Mrs. Stephenson’s words interrupt my deep thoughts about her and her life when she whispers.
“Hey, make sure you get a copy of the paper on Sunday and save your article and photos for your portfolio. One day that might come in handy if you ever want to pursue a job in journalism.” I hesitate, staring at her mouth, her lips to be exact as I find I do quite a lot lately around her.
“That’s a great idea. I hadn’t thought about that. I didn’t save my other ones.” She surprises me by responding.
“Oh, I have. Before the end of the year, I will give them to you, and we can put together a proper portfolio for you.” Her words and kindness hit me straight to the gut to know she has saved my work since the beginning of the year, my heart pounds with excitement. I finish my assignment with the hope she will ask me to stay after class so that we might talk privately. It is hard to hide my disappointment when she tells the class she will see us on Friday, her attention engrossed in her computer, uploading the files from our finished paper to the printers for publication.
Walking through the door, I fight with my brain to come up with some reason to step back into the room to talk to her when I see Miss Hargreaves slip around the corner heading towards her own classroom. Breaking away from two of my classmates’ conversation, I approach the teacher.
“Miss Hargreaves, may I speak with you for a moment?” She eyes me up then down, her eyes drift towards the jacket and for a brief moment I wonder if it is recognition I witness, but then she finishes her inspection, leaving me to feel as if I am equal to a piece of prized beef in the butcher shop.
“Sure, Mr. Raines.” She opens the door I follow her towards her desk where she is pulling folders from a box. “You wanted to ask me something?” Her prowling demeanor changes before my eyes as if she senses my lack of comfort in her presence.
“I will just spit it out.” She nods. I swallow hard and continue. “I am worried about Mrs. Stephenson. Monday she was crying, and today her eyes are puffy, and she was very distracted in class. I want to make sure that she is safe at home.” Miss Hargreaves lips part, her arms cross, and a soft smile shift her lips.
“Wow. You aren’t like all of the others, are you?” I jump in response.
“What do you mean?” My immediate defensive reaction slips out before I can reign it back in.
“Well, you truly must care about Jenny to take the time to notice the way she is feeling. And then by you asking me, you aren’t plotting, are you?” I shake my head. “You are worried about her safety.” I nod. “But the thing is Ryan I can’t betray her trust by telling you the details you want to know.”
“I want to make sure she is safe.”
“You care, don’t you? This isn’t a student crush, is it?” My brows arch, shocked, and they are best friends, leading me to believe Jenny talks about me. I shake my head.
“It is not my intention to pry. But I need to know. Is her husband a good guy?” She hesitates. “Her safety is my top concern.” She shakes her head. “Has he hit her?” She bites her lip and shakes her head again. “But she is scared of him, isn’t she?” On this, she looks up, our eyes meet, and she nods in agreement.
“Ryan, what are you going to do?”
She asks to my retreating back as I leave her classroom, asking myself the very same question.
#
Jenny
My classroom is empty, and I can’t bring myself to be productive instead I am sitting at my desk staring out the window into the parking lot under a heavy-clouded gray sky threatening at any moment to break out in a cold rain once again. Ryan looked so sexy in my dad’s jacket I started to ask for it back then I remembered the weather leaving me to wonder if he had a heavy coat other than his school jacket, I haven’t seen him wear in quite a while. Now I pay attention as he walks across the parking lot towards his Jeep, and yes, I know precisely where he parks because I have watched him leave the school many times over the past two years. Now as he crosses the lot through the parked cars, rising I stand next to the window watching as he climbs in looking straight through the glass to me and for the briefest of a moment, I feel the warming pull flow through me when I am around him.
I place my palm flat against the glass as he lifts his to the window of the door before he pulls out driving away. I don’t hear the familiar clack of her heels nor smell the strong perfume; it isn’t until I hear the whispers of words next to my head that I realize I am not alone.
“Man, you two have it bad.” I jump, acting as if I have no clue what she could be referring.
“I. I don’t.”
“Geez. Jen, you can lie to yourself, not to me. That boy is in love with you and you with him. Shit, he just spent fifteen minutes in my room with me.” My eyes jerk open, my lips part, and I am ready to pounce. “Down cougar. He spent fifteen minutes asking me if you are safe at home with your husband.”
“Oh.” I feel relieved and surprised.
“It seems he has noticed the bags under-your-eyes you try to hide.” She points to my face. “He also noticed how off you had been lately. And he saw the tears on Monday.”
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“No, I would never betray you. But Ryan asked, and I confirmed and denied. Jen, he knows you are scared of Martin.” I sigh, sinking into my chair, Merrilee sits on my desk as I bury my face in my hands. “When did you give him your Dad’s jacket?” I sigh hard telling her the entire story from every minute in the car.
“Wow. Shit. You two were seconds from doing the dirty deed, weren’t you?” I shake my head.
“No. I think he wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss him, but Ryan is honorable, so mature.” I am baffled by my own admission.
“He doesn’t have a student crush on you.” I look up confused. “Jen. It’s more than that. He sees a future with you, maybe he wants one, dreams about one but that is a man, not a boy. But right now, we are worried about you. What are you planning to do?” I shake my head. “You know I asked Ryan the same thing.” I sit up straighter in the chair.
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t answer, left the room. Jen, you need to show him you can take care of yourself. You don’t want him doing something that will get you both into trouble.”
#
Ryan
I leave the school with her image burned into my mind, staring out the classroom window straight towards me. Unable to shake my worrying about Jenny and what is happening in her home. “Why don’t you leave?” A question I ask myself over and over during the drive to work. I find my dad sitting behind his desk looking perplexed as if the screen of the computer will tell him what he needs to know.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Ryan.”
“What’s up?”
“This damn program I can’t get it to do what it wants.” He is talking towards the object made of metal and plastic as if it were a human rallying against him in a game of intrigue.
“Hey. Let me see if I can help.” He throws up his hands, pushing the rolling chair back from the desk; taking his place, I click through the screens until I am at the start of the accounting program.
“Son, I already did that.”
“I know. Just a minute. Sometimes on computer programs, if you miss one small thing in the beginning, then you will not be able to get it to do what you want.” He releases a loud sound of frustration, then pouring himself a cup of coffee from the looks of him running his fingers through his hair he has had more than enough already today.
“I don’t know why the stupid accountant told me I had to use this anyway. Isn’t that why I pay him?”
“Dad. You can’t take a box of receipts to an accountant nowadays and expect them to figure it all out. You have to keep good records, and this will make your life easier.” He laughs, not believing a word I am saying. I make my way through the program adding the accounts receivable for the month into the spreadsheet. I would never tell him how easy it was because I value the roof over my head until graduation too much. Scratch that he would never do it. He is a proud man, and as his son, I would never do anything to hurt him intentionally. “Okay, Dad, come look.” I take him through the steps, showing him a few shortcuts, I have found. He rakes his fingers through his hair once again.
“I don’t get it. How can you figure this shit out in ten minutes and I have been doing it all morning?”
“It’s the generation. I have been around computers since I was little. It makes it easier. Come on let me buy you some lunch.” His eyebrow arches in a skeptical question, leaving me to believe when I look at Jenny when she says something that throws me for a loop, my face mirrors my dad.
“You aren’t in trouble, are you?”
“No.” Guiding my dad out, I lock the office behind me as we let the other two employees know to take an hour. Dad climbs into my Jeep. “Dad, I promise I wanted to have lunch with you, that’s all, and I wanted to talk.” I let the words trail off on purpose, wanting to wait until we took a seat in the diner. After both ordering burgers and onion rings, I sip my Coke while he sips on a glass of tea.
“Okay spill it.”
I do. Without names and specifics, I let him know about Jenny, her husband, and what I have learned. Our food arrives, his burger half-eaten along with a part of his fried rings before he speaks. This is the way it has always been for as long as I can remember when you present my dad with a problem, he truly makes a substantial effort to give an honest answer.
“Son, the thing is unless you know for certain she is being hit or scared for her life there isn’t much you can do. Legally, she is the only one that can stop it. She needs to get out.” He must sense something, maybe seeing it written plainly across my face, causing his features to soften. “Ryan. I have a feeling you care a lot for her.” I nod.
“Isn’t there something I can do? I can’t just sit by and watch.” My throat clogs with frustration, emotion, and maybe deep down a bit of fear for Jenny’s safety.
“Yea there is something you can do.” I wait. “You can be a good friend show her she deserves much better. Treat her with kindness, respect, and be there if she needs something.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
We both finish our meal, true to my word I pay even against his objections, smiling as he returns his wallet to his pocket. I wait until I pull out of the parking lot to ask him. “Do you regret your time in the Marines? And do you think you should have stayed in?” He doesn't hesitate to answer.
“No, son. I don't regret serving; it is a family tradition. Every generation has had a least one male son in the military. And no, I do not regret leaving. Your mom was miserable moving from base to base only to have me get deployed for months at a time. The best thing we did was moving back here and settling down.”
