posted on Sep, 29 2008 @ 04:01 PM
I would like to remind the judges that English isn't my first language. I did my best to have the text spellchecked and grammar checked. Please
forgive if it isn't as perfect as it should be. Thank you very much.
“How could you dare to come over here? After all that you have done?”, Brian asked her.
She stood paralyzed, watching him with wide open eyes. “Brian, please!”
“No, no way, you don’t deserve to be here! It is over!”
“Brian, please!” She didn’t know what to do. Just standing there in the living room, watching Brian, watching her son. “But … Brian … what
… have …I … done?”
“YOU dare to ask? You really dare to ask?”, Brian shouted. “I have read everything, everything. Listen! Really everything!”
Her brain started to figure out what he was talking about. He read? What had he read? His words made no real sense to her. Even less sense than his
phone call in the afternoon. It was her lunch break from school. Brian called her before the break was over. He started to yell at her immediately,
accusing her of cheating. Him! Cheating? She didn’t understand what he was talking about.
He asked again and again: “Is there anything you need to tell me?” No, there was nothing! Nothing at all. “Heather, is there anything you need
to tell me?”
“No Brian, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Heather be honest. Think it over again! Is there anything you need to tell me?”
“Brian, please, you are confusing me. Give me a hint”, she begged.
“Heather it is all up to you. Check your mind … I heard you gasp, yep this is what I mean … is there anything you need to tell me?”
She started crying. “No Brian, nothing, I have done nothing, I need to tell you nothing.”
“Heather stop crying at once. Behave yourself. There are people around you. Just tell me: is there anything you need to tell me?”
But she couldn’t stop crying. She didn’t understand why he accused her. Why couldn’t he tell her what he really meant? “Brian,” she sobbed,
“please, Brian, why do you keep asking? Tell me what you mean?”
“Heather, you know it!” Brian demanded, “I know you know it. Tell me is there anything you need to tell me? And for heaven’s sake stop
sobbing, it is ridiculous, a woman at your age standing in the streets crying and sobbing. What do you think people will think of you? A ridiculous
old woman sobbing in the street!” Brian laughed, “Oh Heather even for your standard this is bad!” He hung up on her, leaving her sobbing,
staring at her mob, still not knowing what he wanted her to confess.
She hasted home after school, not sure what she could expect. In what mood Brian would be. As usual. She always kept asking herself if she did
something Brian didn’t like, something Brian would judge as being not appropriate! Appropriate! His favorite word. Appropriate reaction, appropriate
behavior. She struggled hard to be appropriate, to reply appropriately, to be dressed appropriately. Nobody ever understood how hard she struggled.
Her friends usually saw the charming Brian, the courteouse Brian, the understanding Brian. Brian who was listening to them, Brian who was able to
advise them carefully.
They didn’t know that her Brian was different from the Brian they knew. Sure, when he was in a good mood he was as charming and tender as a man
could be. But usually he was different. Her happiness was depending on his mood. Even if she got the idea the marriage was working well he could
destroy this feeling in a minute. Just by asking questions she couldn’t answer.
A very popular question: “What’s up? I can feel that there is something!” He never accepted her reply that everything was OK. Brian kept asking
and asking and asking. Most times she had to invent something, just to satisfy him. But usually he was never ever really satisfied. Never!
He would normally use everything she told him, especially the invented stuff, against her, to torture her. To make sure that she knew she was
unworthy, not appropriate. Nothing was appropriate on her. Not her body, not her clothing, not her hairstyle, not her behavior, not her way of
talking. Only the way she treated her son, seemed to be OK, or at last most times!
What the heck was Brian talking about? She asked herself this question again and again. She wanted to go home as soon as possible but on the other
hand, this was the moment she feared most. Brian has never been in such a bad mood before. And his moods could be really bad moods. He never hurt her
physically. No, that would not be appropriate! He did it the psychological way. Very subtly. Trying to undermine her self-confidence, to demoralize
her. He was the superior one, the one who was far more intelligent than her, or alas he thought he was far more intelligent. The one who understood
everybody and everything but not his own wife.
She had to sob again. This was so crazy. What was he talking about? What did he mean by “Is there anything you need to tell me?” She really
didn’t understand. The longer she thought about it the less she understood. Her brain worked high speed as usual when she walked home after meeting
her friends. Did she tell them anything she wasn’t suppose to tell? What would she reply when he would ask her again: “About what did you
talk?”. She knew he was pretending mild interest when he just wanted to control those meetings.
She hasted home, quickly, finding Brian and her 7 year old son sitting at the dining room table. She was standing close to the table, feeling guilty
– again – but not know what for.
“How could you dare to come over here?” Brian snapped. “I have read them!”
“What did you read?”
“Your e-mails! You betrayed me! All your friends think I am suppressing you. You know that is not right! You have to develop! You attacked me from
behind! You are not true to me! You never told them the truth! You just told your side. You have never been objective. You pretend to be the victim.
You know that this is not true! YOU DISCREDIT ME” His face seemed to be frozen, he didn’t seem to see her at all.
“But Brian …” she sobbed again.
“Heather it is over! We’ll split. I have explained everything to Timmy.”
“You just can’t involve Timmy”, she cried. “He is to small for that, he can’t bear it.”
“Heather!”, Brian strictly said, “Timmy is much stronger than you expect.”
To Brian, Timmy was always stronger than she thought. But Timmy was a very sensitive boy. He noticed more than they thought. Brian wasn’t able to
understand that Timmy’s little problem — he still wasn’t able to use the toilet during nighttime — was nothing Timmy did to annoy them. Just
a reaction to the terror in the family. A reaction to Brian.
Most nights Timmy was as well frightened by nightmares. He was hardly able to awake from these nightmares. Brian forced him to awake, very cruel and
brutal, mentally brutal. She always stood close to Timmy’s bed, paralyzed to break the brutal force of his father. She kept telling herself that it
was helpful for Timmy to have his mom close to him.
“Brian, I expect that you will leave Timmy out! Don’t tell him what is going on!”
“You expect? Oh yeah Miss ’I-am-better-than-you’ expects that everybody does everything like she wants it! Ha Heather, just stop henpecking
“But Brian, Timmy is just a small boy.” Her voice trembled.
“Heather spare me your tears again. I told Timmy everything and fullstop. And if you still not know what it is all about. I came across your
e-mails. And now take your time to think it over.”
“Brian you didn’t have the right to read my e-mails. It is illegal.”
“Shut up. Who cares if it is illegal? I am your husband. I have the right to know what is going on in my house. And if you don’t have anything to
hide, you don’t need to care about me knowing your e-mails.” He looked cold and angrily at her. All of a sudden he left the room heading for his
office. She was left alone with Timmy.
–––> part II