He said that he was forged in hell, but it was really just his armor that was made there. When he opened up, he let me see that fear, the source of his anger. I saw the real man in charge of this tank of a body, and he was hurting.
“Did you ever try to find your real parents?” I asked.
“No. Fuck that. In order for somebody to buy something, somebody else has to be selling it. They were probably junkies that needed some quick cash. If I ever found their asses, it might not be pretty.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands and tried to compose myself.
Over the past couple of months, Austin had done things for me I’d never would have thought possible. It was like looking at myself with a completely new set of non-judgmental eyes. It was a huge relief to have so much guilt and self-consciousness off my shoulders. To have a man look at me the way Austin did and for it to be OK, more than OK, might have seemed like such a simple little thing to somebody else, but they weren’t me. For me, it was priceless. It was irreplaceable.
Austin did that for me, and now I could see… he needed me too. As much as I needed him.
Since he started talking, he had been lying on the bed with his fingers laced over his forehead and his eyes closed, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me. I reached out and stroked his cheek.
“Hey.”
He opened his eyes.
“I’m so sorry you went through that, Austin.”
“It’s OK.”
“No it is not. It wasn’t fair that you had to grow up in that house. Scared. Hurt. You didn’t even have anybody to…”
I licked my lips and swallowed, turning my eyes up for a second as if seeking some extra strength. It was hard to believe I was about to talk to my fake husband about this… but things had changed somewhere along the line between when the ink dried on our marriage certificate and now.
There was more than a contract holding us together, as confusing and scary as that thought was. I was sure Austin felt something too, or he wouldn’t have just told me as much as he did.
I lifted the bottom of my shirt and twisted to the side. “You see that scar there?”
Austin raised his head and reached out to trace it with his finger. “This one?”
“Yeah. My… my dad disciplined with a belt sometimes. He used to fold it over and give me five good ones if he thought I was dressing too… uh… suggestively, or if he thought I might have a boyfriend. He made me feel like my own body was the most evil thing in the world. One night when he was swinging that belt, the half with the buckle on it came loose and it whipped around and sliced into my back there.”
“Son of a bitch. Maybe I should show up at his fucking house with the heavyweight belt.”
“It’s not worth it. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, it’s the first time in my life I’ve had enough distance and courage to do it. My uncle helped give me the distance, and you helped give me the courage, Austin. Nobody ever defended me before. It’s weird, feeling like I’m not alone.”
“I didn’t-”
“There’s a guy in Vegas sitting in a wheelchair, drinking apple sauce through a straw and mourning a popped testicle, who will never lay a hand on me again, who says otherwise. Anyway, I think the difference with my dad is that he was actually afraid of my growing up, becoming an adult, getting attention from boys and everything. He tried to make me afraid of it too, and I was.”
“There’s got to be a better way,” said Austin.
“Yeah, but he didn’t know it. Can I show you something?”
“Not another scar?”
“No. Just wait there a sec.”
I hopped off the bed, went to my bag and pulled out my purse. In there, tucked safely behind some cards, was one of the most precious things in my life. This was the first time I’d ever showed it to anybody else.
My hand trembled as I returned to the bed and held the picture out to Austin. He took it and held it in front of his face for a few seconds, then looked back to me.
“You and your mom?”
I nodded.
“Did any of the ice cream end up in your mouth?”
The young girl who I used to be peered out from the picture, with a huge and innocent grin on her face and a generous dollop of chocolate ice cream on her nose. Sitting next to her was a woman who I was starting to look more and more like all the time.
Back then my parents seemed to be so big and all-knowing. There was nothing they couldn’t do, no question they didn’t have an answer to, especially my mom.
“Some of it,” I said. “I remember that day. So many days are just lost, you know? But I remember that one. Clear as a bell. The sun was hot, the ice cream was cold. Dad was at work and we were just sitting in the back yard talking about our favorite flavors. I got that ice cream on my nose and that’s when my mom decided it would be best to take a picture.”