Walking on Broken Glass - Christa Allan [82]
“When I was four, I had a tonsillectomy. I remember faces floating over me, somebody telling me to count, a black mask. Then I was gone. And then, I came back. Like seeing the world from a lens that opened wider and wider until the lens disappeared and only the view was left. That's how I feel now. Like I’m coming back,” I said quietly, holding on to the leathery arms of the chair as if letting go meant floating away.
“You are coming back. The world's almost all in view,” Ron said. “Only one more lens to open.”
I didn’t get it. Sex. Why it fascinated people. Why people risked their reputations, their families, their lives to have an affair. All that, for what? A few minutes?
I was a virgin when I met Carl. I think he was, too. I don’t think he wanted to admit that. When we dated, I enjoyed kissing him and being touched by him. I know in today's world it sounds dorky, but I made him promise to wait until after we married.
At first, I managed sex with Carl. It wasn’t awful. It was, I guess, like taking medicine. You know you need it. If you don’t take it, you’ll get worse. And if you hold your nose, it doesn’t taste so bad. And sometimes, you’d get surprised by medicine that actually tasted pleasant. But you couldn’t count on that every time.
He liked having sex. He liked telling me he liked having sex. He liked surprising me with sex. Telling me to meet him at his office because we needed to go over some paper about one thing or another. I’d meet him only to find out I was the paper he planned on going over. Or we’d be at the ski lodge with his parents. I’d be curled up reading a book, settled in with my coffee, the fireplace. His parents would be in the kitchen concocting some new drink or dinner recipe. Carl would go upstairs. Two minutes later, he’d shout he’d forgotten a towel or his cell phone or whatever. I’d trot up the stairs with whatever he said he wanted. He never wanted what he asked for. He wanted me.
He thought it was romantic. I felt ambushed. Eventually, I learned not to trust him. At first, he thought “no” was a flirtatious game, designed to make him want it more, a hard-to-get game. Eventually, he learned what it meant. He just chose not to hear it. Sometimes he did. Like when I’d have my period.
After a while, I didn’t bother refusing him.
If I did, he’d pout. If I said no for a week, he’d be terribly unhappy. And then he’d be upset about the messy office, or the dirty floors, or the boring meals, or how much money I was spending. If I said no for more than a week, he’d be angry. He’d tell me I was selfish, frigid, dysfunctional. He’d throw the phone book into the bedroom and tell me to look up phone numbers of doctors.
It was easier to just do what had to be done.
Eventually, I learned a few strategies myself. Like my periods lasted longer. Like staying up late grading papers, reading. I’d force myself some nights to stay awake. If he fell asleep first, I won. I ’d fall asleep on the sofa. I think he caught on because then he told me he didn’t like finding me on the sofa in the morning. He wanted me to come to bed. I learned how to slide into bed as if I was water poured gently down the side of a tall glass. Some nights were better than others. It took practice. The secret was not moving. If I moved, the game was over. He’d know I was awake.
I knew he was right. Something had to be wrong with me. He knew I was smart; he’d tell people. But, he’d tell me, like many “book smart” people, I didn’t have much common sense. Once, I told my parents and Carl that I considered going to law school. They didn’t think it was a good idea. Law school was difficult, they told me, even for the most intelligent of people. When people would ask about my job, he’d tell them I was “just a teacher” in a public school where the trashy kids were. He’d say “those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.” He needed to be honest. It was for my own good, he’d say. He wanted me to see life realistically.
He gave me almost anything I asked for. He worked hard at Morgan Management. His father wanted