Finding Amy (7 page)

“Oh, God.”  She pulled her robe tight and tears formed in her eyes.

“Aha.  Do I see fear in those eyes?  Yes, baby the good ole Doc.  Oh, we had the most informative chat.”  I was talking as I walked toward her.  She stood frozen in fear.  I reached out and grabbed her arm roughly as I continued.  “And it was all about you.”

She squirmed to free herself, but I held her tight.  With my other hand I grabbed a handful of her beautiful, silky hair and pulled it back so her face was forced to look up at me.

“What’s the matter baby?  What do you have to be afraid of?”  I raised my eyebrows in a mock-questioning look.  “You’ve always been truthful with me haven’t you?”

“Danny, please.”  Genuine terror streaked her tearful face.  The scent of fear was actually turning me on.  “Please stop.  Let me go and I’ll explain everything.”  Her tiny hands began to beat at my chest and pry at my fingers.

I held tight and snarled.  “That’s not gonna help.  This ole cowboy has finally seen the light.  I don’t need any explaining.  I see everything real clear.  Now you’re going to see things real clear.”

I kept hold of her hair, but released her arm and reached for the front of robe.  I gave it a hard yank and it fell open.

She clutched at it, but she was no match for me as I pulled the robe completely from her body.   She stood before me naked.  She was whimpering something, but I had no interest in her tears or her words as my eyes raked her body with desire.

I pulled Amy by her hair to the bed and roughly released her with a shove that left her sprawled on her back.  My eyes continued to devour her body.  She cringed and rolled into a ball as I tore my shirt off and dropped my pants.  My boots and socks were flung at her vanity table scattering her toiletries everywhere as they landed.  I crawled onto the bed, knelt over her and forced her onto her back.  My blood raced wildly as my gaze swept over the body that had been denied to me for so long.  As my knees forced her legs open, I held her throat with one hand while the other caressed her face, her full breasts and her flat abdomen.  My hand was burning as it combed through her dark triangle and continued down to her trembling thighs.  My hand retraced its path up her body, ending with a caress of her cheek.  Her eyes, wild with fear, generated a strong aphrodisiac.  I was on fire and covered with sweat.  Every muscle was hard as a rock and I felt stronger than ever before in my life.

She found some strength of her own and began to flail at me again.

I grabbed her wrists and held them over her head as I yelled.  “Why baby, why?  I tried so hard.  I tried so hard.  I’ve wanted you so bad and yet held back.  Why did you lie to me?”  “

She began begging.  “Please, let me up.  Please, Danny.”

Her tears had no effect on me.  If fact, they further inflamed my desire.  I finally did what I had wanted to do since the night I met her.  Her fear had aroused her and fortunately she was moist as I entered her brutally and savagely.  She cried out in pain as I convulsed and spewed my pent-up frustration and passion.  It wasn’t good and it wasn’t beautiful, but wave after wave brought me sublime, ecstatic, pleasure.  Her crying and screaming made me crazier and meaner.  After I was spent, I felt only a great sense of relief.  As my body lost its rigor, the room began to swirl and I rolled off of her.

She sprang from the bed and ran sobbing into the bathroom.

I heard the lock click.  I rolled over on the empty bed and stretched out spread eagle.  I had the most uncontrollable urge to laugh, which is what I did.  The laugh lasted until I felt tears well up and flow down the side of my face.  I rolled over and buried my face in the sheets before mercifully falling off to sleep.

My marriage to that beautiful brunette I had met not so very long ago had finally been consummated.  Like I said, it was neither good nor beautiful, but it had been done.  Truth be known, I’d had more pleasurable experiences in the whorehouses in 'Nam than with my own wife.  My own wife, I had to rape.

*****

I woke a little before five the next morning to a terrible pounding in my head.  As my senses woke, the smell of sweat and sex assailed me and almost immediately my actions of the previous night overwhelmed me with shame.  I was sure I was going to die as I lay there.  Either my physical pain or those awful memories were going to do me in.  Through my misery I thought I head a radio playing in the living room.

Trying to focus on the radio helped to push back my pains.  Why would the radio be playing?  A picture of Amy’s face as I tore her robe from her body flashed before my eyes.  It couldn’t be Amy.  I knew she’d be gone.  I sat up slowly intending to investigate the radio, but when my feet hit the cold hardwood floor nauseous bile rose in my throat and threatened to erupt.  I knew I had to get to the bathroom.  The pounding in my head became so loud it drowned out the radio.

I barely made it to the toilet before my stomach erupted.  I clung to the edge of the bowl as I retched until all that come out was dry heaves.  As I stood to flush the disgusting matter, I caught a glimpse of my nude body in the mirror.  I looked like hell.

After cleansing my mouth and wiping my face with a warm rag, I walked back into the bedroom.  The sheets were a mess and practically torn from the bed.  I didn’t think my shame could be greater as I scanned the disarray from my drunken rage, but I was wrong.  My empty stomach registered a new round of revulsion when I caught sight of virginal bloodstains accusing me from sheets that reeked of sin.  The room smelled of anger, spite, callousness, lust and drink.

“Oh God.”  It even hurt to moan.  I picked up my discarded clothes and tossed them into the hamper.  The sight of my boots on her vanity table brought tears to my eyes as I noticed a broken crystal dolphin that I had bought her in Hawaii.

The sound of the radio caught my attention again.  I fought the rumblings in my stomach, a pounding headache and a great deal of shame as I donned a fresh tee shirt and a clean pair of Levi’s, then started down the hall toward the music.

I blinked twice when I saw Amy curled on the couch reading a book.  She couldn’t still be here.  Yet there she was wearing the same robe I had torn from her body last night.  She wore no make-up.  Her long dark hair was pulled back and tied creating a lonely, fragile aura about her.  I glanced back toward the bedroom and then back to assure myself I wasn’t hallucinating.

She looked up.  “I’m sorry.  Did the music wake you?  Are you hungry?  Can I get you some coffee?”  Her voice was a little shaky, but considering last night it was amazing that she would even be speaking to me.   That she was still here was unbelievable.

A shake of my head hurt hell.  “No.  The music didn’t wake me and I’m not hungry or thirsty.”  I looked back down the hall, then back at her. 
Did I just dream last night?
  Then the pounding in my head started again and I remembered the stains on the sheet.  No it hadn’t been a dream.  It had happened all right.

She asked again.  “Are you sure?  I can put something together for you if you want.”  She laid the book down and rose to her feet.

I squinted my eyes and brought my fingers up to massage my temples.  “No.  Thank you, anyway.”  Our eyes met.  “Why are you still here.  Why didn’t you leave?”

She didn’t flinch.  “Do you want me to go?”

What was going on here?  This was insane.  I had raped her.  I didn’t know what to say.  My aching head and a terrible shame were clogging rational thought.  Finally, I managed to croak, “I don’t know.  I don’t know anything right now.”

“Maybe some coffee will …”

“No.”  I ran my fingers through my hair.  Her eyes were still waiting for my answer about her leaving.  “I asked you why you were still here.  Why are you acting like nothing happened?”

She looked away, pulled the belt of her robe tighter and walked to the window, which was just beginning to lighten with the first gray of the new day.  Her back was to me and her voice was soft as she began.  “Where would I go?  To my parents?  No thank you.  My father is as pathetic as I am.  My mother is a cold heartless bitch who runs our lives and our thoughts, but she doesn’t really care about us.”  She turned to face me.  “She dominates us, as she tries to dominate everything.  As for me, I’m just her possession.  It makes no difference to her that I’m married.”  She paused, then emitted a soft, wistful sigh.  “Do you know what it was like before I met and married you?  Talk about a non-entity.  An absolute no one.  A nobody.  I was her personal display piece. A doll she could parade in front of her society cronies.  But, God forbid if I had thought of my own.”  Her voice was becoming stronger as her long denied inner rage and frustration surfaced.  “Through marriage, I have had some time away from her.  Occasionally, you actually ask me what I think, what I want to do.  Trouble is I get confused when I’m asked what I want or think.  I don’t know how to make decisions or take care of myself or even think for myself.  I need someone to do these things for me.”  She pleaded with a look that was half hope and yet half loathing.  “I’ve spent the last few hours coming to this conclusion.  I need her or you to take care of me.  I realize that you give me some measure of freedom even as you take care of me.  It came to me as I thought about leaving you that I would rather go through that ordeal we went through last night periodically than to go back to living with her full time.”  She squared her shoulders and lowered her voice again.  “But I realize that you are the one who has been cheated and if you want me to go, I will.  I’ll never mention last night.  You can get an annulment so you can go on with your life.”

I had never heard her put that many uninterrupted thoughts together.  Now I was really confused.  All I could get out was, “You don’t hate me?”

“No, I don’t hate you.  Actually, I believe I’m not capable of hate or nor love.  Something is missing in me.  I have accepted the fact that you had every right to do what you did last night.  I also know that I will never be a good sex partner for you.  The whole act is as horrible as mother said it would.”

I took a step toward her.  “Amy, maybe I was wrong.  Maybe you should have gone to a specialist in sexual problems.  Maybe you can be helped.”  She was shaking her head no as I continued.  “What I did last night was wrong, terribly wrong.  I’m more ashamed of what I did than I can ever say.”

“No.  Please don’t be ashamed.  I know I drove you to it.”  She was giving me absolution.  I couldn’t believe her words.  “But, despite the fact that you were drunk, sex is sex.  I now know how it feels and it confirmed what I suspected about myself.  I can face it and live with it, but I know it isn’t fair to you.”  She stood, framed by the soft glow of the pink dawn sky filtering into the room, waiting for my answer.

I was so confused.  My head was still throbbing, my stomach was churning and my soul was cringing in shame.  I was in no shape to make such an important decision.  “I don’t know what I want.”  I answered honestly.  “I’m pretty confused and miserable right now.  I need time to clean my body and more importantly my head.  I need time to think.  I’m going to shower and then go for a long drive.  Will you stay until I get back?”

“I’ll stay until you tell me to leave.”

I showered and slipped out of the house without talking to her again.  I drove for hours, but to this day don’t remember where I went.  I thought about going to my folks and leveling with them, but I wasn’t ready to confess my shame.  Besides, I hadn’t taken their advice before so now I needed to work things out for myself.

Late that afternoon, I found myself on the mesa where I had proposed to Amy on that night not so long ago.  I came to the realization that I still loved her and wanted her to stay.  I kept thinking that there had to be a way to reach her.  If she could stay with me after what I had done, I guess I could give her another chance too.

I went home.  She made sandwiches and iced tea for supper.  We made small talk, but didn’t discuss what had happened.  We didn’t make plans.  We just went forward.

*****

I left for work early each morning and got home after dark each evening.  I didn’t see her parents at all for the next week.  As for my folks, Dad and my brothers knew something was wrong and each, in his own way, tried to engage me in conversation aimed at offering help, but I shut them down.  They respected my privacy.  It hurt to see their frustration with the situation, but I just couldn’t talk about it.

Amy and I stayed together under the same roof, even in the same bed.  I don’t think either of us slept much, but we didn’t talk or touch.  Out of bed, things were like before.  She didn’t seem to hold my abominable actions against me.  She was friendly as she tried to fix and serve our meals and talk about how our days went.  She didn’t mention her folks.

Then, she surprised me one night about a week after the rape.  She had just taken her shower.  Amy came into the bedroom dressed in her wedding nightgown.  I looked up in shock at her attire.  She tried for a smile as she spoke.  “If you want me tonight, it's alright with me."”

I had just put on my hated pajamas, which I was wearing to make things more comfortable for her.  I couldn’t believe my ears.  “Amy, do you really mean it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that came out wrong.  It’s still a disgusting act that I don’t want or need, but you do and I feel I owe it to you.”

My first reaction was to tell her to go to hell.  But, one look at her face told me how hard this was for her.  She was making an attempt.  It was a start.  I took her in my arms and began to caress her gently.  We slipped into bed and she disrobed under the covers.  I tried very hard to arouse her.  The lights were off robbing me of the sight of her body or face, but my hands felt an acceptance on her part.  Our coupling that night wasn’t exactly warm and loving, let alone passionate, but at least it was better than the last time and provided me with a release.  As I climaxed, I felt some of my resentment and frustration flow away.  It gave me hope.  A week later, we coupled again.  Soon we were settled into a once a week act.  I can’t say it was good.  I can say it kept me hoping and avoiding a realistic look at what the future held.  We just marked time.