Britain
By the time I finally wake up it’s already one in the afternoon, which feels unbelievable. I don’t exactly feel rested, but I feel better than I did last night. Tossing and turning until I finally threw up at five something was miserable. I haven’t had a migraine that bad in a long time. I look at the nightstand, seeing half a croissant and a few random crackers, and I remember. I can’t help the smile that forms on my face.I love you, Bambi.Gah, it felt so good. He’s always felt so “right” to me. Like comfort and home, but also indescribable passion and burning.He loves me. There’s that sappy ass smile again. Which reminds me, ick, I need a shower and to brush my teeth.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The t-shirt I’m wearing has the MS Group logo embroidered on the left side of the chest. So Matthias knows about me being here and about me being with Liam. I guess I was right in thinking him and me wasn’t a big deal for him. I didn’t want to ask any more questions about Matthias, or his life. I didn’t want Liam to think I still cared. I hate myself a bit that I do still care. I should stop, though. I love Liam. Truly love him. What happened in the past was nothing but a bit of teen melodrama and I overreacted to it all.
After a quick shower and teeth brushing, I head downstairs, arms full with ginger ale and water bottles and my plate. I slip a couple pieces of bread in the toaster and head back upstairs, grabbing a new notebook and my phone. I get comfortable on the eat-in bench, checking my messages. There's a few from the girls, mostly just excited for me to come home. And Elodie wants a photo of Liam. I have another from a number I don’t know.
Unknown
Hi Britain, I know it’s been a long time, but when you get a chance, can you give me a call? -M
What the fuck? Don’t think I’ll be responding to that. If it is who I think it is, there’s nothing on the other end of that line that’s worth the hassle. I’m sure I’ll see him around and have to talk to him eventually, because of Liam. But not today, not any time soon. The queasiness comes back, but this time I just think it’s from the shock of him reaching out to me, something I thought would never happen. Not in a million years.
I grab another water bottle and put peanut butter on my toast before I sit back down and flip open the notebook. There’s a tri-folded piece of paper wedged between the cover and the front page. I open it, surprised to see it’s addressed to me.
Dear Britain,
This notebook is going to be hard to read. For that, I’m sorry. I had to write it at the time, to process what happened, but also to help me remember so that someday you’d know the truth, Alex would know the truth. Since that day, I’ve tried hard to forget what happened, but I couldn’t. I had a living reminder, who looked just like her father. I do want you to know something, though: I never regretted anything that happened that brought you to me. Never. Don’t forget that, okay? I never regretted it. I loved you so much, and I know I struggled to show it because every time I looked at you I could see what I gained and all that I lost. Hopefully when you read this you’ll understand. I love you, baby girl, and I miss you terribly.
Love you forever,
Your mom, Georgia
I set the paper down with trembling hands. Tears are already streaming down my face. Whatever I’m about to read is what I’ve been waiting for, looking for. My stomach is rolling and my heart racing as I look at the first of a multi-paged entry.
May 31, 1987
I thought yesterday was going to be one of the best days of my life, but it ended up being perhaps the worst day I’ve ever lived. The day started mostly normal. I got up, got Alexander and myself ready for the day. I dropped him off at daycare and headed into the office. You were there, and when you saw me you gave me that knowing look, and I felt like everything was going to be alright. We were finally doing it. You were going to tell Julie you were leaving, and I was leaving Ray. We planned it, I thought, perfectly.
At lunch you took me to see the new house. It was perfect, just like we talked about, hidden in the hills, just enough land to be private and to let the boys run wild. We talked about the layout of the garden even. Well, I talked, and you just listened. Smiling like you always do for me. Just for me. At five, we walked to the parking garage together, our plan to meet at the new house at 5:30 with the boys. A night to start the rest of our lives. But that was never to be, was it?
I got home at 5:15, and the house looked a mess. At first it looked burglarized, but I noticed it was just my stuff that was thrown about. A few of our notebooks were sitting open on the kitchen table and I knew, right then, this was not going to go as planned. A few minutes later, Ray stumbled through the front door. I asked him where Alex was. He was supposed to get him from daycare and he said he told him to stay in the car so he could talk to me first. I knew what he meant, so I was ready when he backhanded me, hard. I was prepared for the hit, but it still hurt like the devil.
He pointed to the notebooks and accused me of cheating on him. The irony was he’s probably slept with a dozen women during our marriage, but if I cheated on him, he was going to make me pay. I told him it didn’t matter, that our marriage was over and he needed to leave or I would call the police. He didn’t like that.
He laid into me again. This time with closed fists. He’d only beat me with closed fists once before. All the other times, it was open handed, pushing, kicking. Things that could be covered easily with clothing or makeup. The fists were the worst though, and this time he didn’t care who saw, every punch landed on my face. And every time I’d scream for my life, hoping someone would hear. Anyone. But time went on and nobody came, nobody heard. I was just curled in a ball on the floor as Ray pummeled my stomach with his boot, until he finally stopped.
God, I cried tears of thanks when he stopped, but I was foolish to think that was the end. Next thing I know, he’s slammed me flat on my back on the kitchen floor, pinning down my arms. He’d unbuckled his pants, exposing himself, and I couldn’t stop the sobs that were coming from me. I begged him to stop, to not do this, but he wouldn’t hear me.
He pushed into me as I tried to fight him off. I tried with everything I had, but it wasn’t enough. He raped me on our kitchen floor as I screamed for help. My cries were muffled, though, with snot and blood. Blood from my eye, my nose, my mouth. Ray started yelling at me louder then. He said he wanted to give me one last fuck before he snuffed the life out of me. He took off his shirt, balling it up and using it to suffocate me as he got closer to his climax. I’m sick just thinking how he could do that with me dying beneath him, but he did. He finished as the light started to dim.
When I woke back up, you were there. Pummeling Ray’s face in. Slamming his head against the tile floor. And I heard screaming, until I realized I’m the one who was screaming. You finally stopped when you realized you might kill him with your next blow, and he stumbled back to his feet. You told him to never come back here, ever again. That he needed to leave the state, the city, and never come back, or you’d find him and finish where you left off. The bastard couldn’t do it, though.
He said, ‘Not without my son. I won’t have some stupid bitch raising him.’ He said he’d take me to court for everything I had, that he’d make sure I never saw Alex again. You just looked at me, and for a second I wish you had killed him, because a piece of me died right then, knowing my sweet baby boy would have to live with this monster and I wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it.
I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t move, so you took care of everything right then. You took Alex over to a neighbor’s, then put Ray in his car with instructions to drive until he ran out of gas. When you came back into the house, I was still laying on the floor. Broken. I didn’t want you to see me. I screamed for you to go away, not to touch me. But you wouldn’t listen, no matter how hard I tried to fight you. You picked me up, putting me in a bath you must have started. And you cleaned all my wounds. Every wound. Even the ones I’m too ashamed to put down on paper.
I don’t think I stopped crying the entire time, and neither did you. I know you knew he hit me, but this was the first time you saw to what extent, and it broke me, having you see me like that. I thought you’d never want to see me again. Who could look at someone like this and still see someone they want?
After you dried me off and put a nightgown on me, you called Sandy to pick up Alexander for a sleepover. You even packed him a backpack with his teddy bear and pjs. If I hadn’t just been raped and beaten within an inch of my life, it would have felt so normal, like it should be, you taking care of me, taking care of our babies.
I finally remembered, and I asked you where Matthias was. You were supposed to bring him to the house. You looked away from me then. For the first time all night, you looked away, and I knew, but I made you tell me anyway. You said Julie found out about us. She called Ray and told him. She made plans for her father to cut ties with your business, kill every deal you were in the process of making. She said she’d do her best to bankrupt you and take Matthias away from his cheating father if you didn’t stay.
You said you didn’t give her an answer, you just left to come for me, worried about what Ray would do. I told you I wished you would have let him kill me. I wished you would’ve come five minutes later because a life without my baby, and without you, isn’t a life worth living. I’d never seen a grown man cry so hard in his life. You begged me to never, ever say those words again. That we’d find a way to be together, all of us. But you’re a liar, Constantine. We’ll never get to be together. Because I’m me and you’re you. We’re from two different worlds, fighting two different battles. The biggest difference is people from my side of the railroad tracks don’t win.
I run to the powder room and empty my stomach until my throat burns and my body has nothing left to give. At some point the retching turns to sobs, and I sob with my head planted on the toilet seat for some unknown amount of time.
My father raped my mom. That’s how I came to be?How foolish was I to to think my father was some prince when it was actually the devil himself. I know everything she wrote in this is true, it makes everything make sense. Why Ray would never acknowledge my existence, why he took Alexander to Arizona with him.
