cosmetics and hair products I had set out on the counter. He found the round plastic container my birth control pills came in, and flipped it open to reveal the wheel of pastel-colored tablets.
“You don’t need these anymore.” He tossed the pills into the trash.
“I need to finish the cycle,” I protested. “And usually before you try to get pregnant, you go in to get a checkup — ”
“You’re healthy. You’ll be fine.” He put a hand on my shoulder, forcing me up as I bent to retrieve the pills. “Leave them.”
A disbelieving laugh bubbled from my throat. I had been conditioned over months to tolerate Nick’s whims for the sake of harmony, but this was too much. I was not going to be forced into having a baby neither of us was ready for.
“Nick, I’d rather wait.” I picked up a hairbrush and began to drag it through my tangled hair. “And this really isn’t a good time to talk about having children, with both of us getting ready for work and — ”
“I’ll decide what we talk about and when!” The explosive intensity of his voice startled me into dropping the hairbrush. “I didn’t realize I had to make a goddamn appointment with you to talk about our personal life!”
I went white with alarm, my heart kicking into a violent rhythm. “Nick — ”
“Do you ever think about anyone or anything besides yourself?” Anger had knotted his throat and the tiny muscles of his face. “It’s always about what you want . . . you selfish bitch, what about what I want?”
He leaned over me, towering and furious, and I shrank against the mirror. “Nick, I just . . .” My mouth had gone so dry, I could ha rely force the words out. “I’m not saying no. I just want . . . would like . . . to talk about it later.”
That earned a look of soul-shredding contempt. “I don’t know. It may not be worth talking about. This whole marriage may not be worth a shit pile. You think you did me some big fucking favor, marrying me? I was the one who did you a favor. You think anyone else would put up with your crap?”
“Nick — ” Panicky and confused, I watched him walk to the bed room. I started to follow, but 1 hung back, fearful of maddening him further. The men in my family were generally slow to anger, and once they worked up to an explosion, it was over soon. Nick’s temper was different, a fire that fed on itself, growing until its proportions had far outstripped the cause. In this case, I wasn’t sure what the best strategy should be . . . If I went after him to apologize, it might pour fuel on his rage. But if I stayed in the bathroom, he might take new offense at being ignored.
I settled for hovering at the doorway, straddling both rooms, watching for a sign of what Nick wanted. He went to the closet and pushed through the clothing with quick, vicious movements, hunting for a shirt. Deciding to retreat, I went back into the bathroom.
My cheeks looked white and stiff. I brushed on some pink blush in light strokes, but the tinted powder seemed to sit on top of my skin, not blending. The brush caught at the mist of nervous sweat and made ruddy streaks. I reached for a washcloth, about to clean it all off, and that was when the world seemed to explode.
Nick had come back, cornering me, clutching something in one fist. Screaming. I’d never had someone scream into my face like that before, certainly not a man, and it was a kind of death. I was reduced to the level of an animal under attack, unable to slip beyond the whiteness of fear, frozen in mute incomprehension.
The thing in his hand was a striped shirt . . . I had ruined it somehow . . . a mistake . . . but Nick said it was sabotage. I had done it on purpose, he said. He needed it for an important meeting this morning, and I said no, I didn’t mean to I’m so sorry but every word brought murderous heat to his face and his arm drew back and the world caught fire.
My head snapped to the side, my cheek blazing, and
“You don’t need these anymore.” He tossed the pills into the trash.
“I need to finish the cycle,” I protested. “And usually before you try to get pregnant, you go in to get a checkup — ”
“You’re healthy. You’ll be fine.” He put a hand on my shoulder, forcing me up as I bent to retrieve the pills. “Leave them.”
A disbelieving laugh bubbled from my throat. I had been conditioned over months to tolerate Nick’s whims for the sake of harmony, but this was too much. I was not going to be forced into having a baby neither of us was ready for.
“Nick, I’d rather wait.” I picked up a hairbrush and began to drag it through my tangled hair. “And this really isn’t a good time to talk about having children, with both of us getting ready for work and — ”
“I’ll decide what we talk about and when!” The explosive intensity of his voice startled me into dropping the hairbrush. “I didn’t realize I had to make a goddamn appointment with you to talk about our personal life!”
I went white with alarm, my heart kicking into a violent rhythm. “Nick — ”
“Do you ever think about anyone or anything besides yourself?” Anger had knotted his throat and the tiny muscles of his face. “It’s always about what you want . . . you selfish bitch, what about what I want?”
He leaned over me, towering and furious, and I shrank against the mirror. “Nick, I just . . .” My mouth had gone so dry, I could ha rely force the words out. “I’m not saying no. I just want . . . would like . . . to talk about it later.”
That earned a look of soul-shredding contempt. “I don’t know. It may not be worth talking about. This whole marriage may not be worth a shit pile. You think you did me some big fucking favor, marrying me? I was the one who did you a favor. You think anyone else would put up with your crap?”
“Nick — ” Panicky and confused, I watched him walk to the bed room. I started to follow, but 1 hung back, fearful of maddening him further. The men in my family were generally slow to anger, and once they worked up to an explosion, it was over soon. Nick’s temper was different, a fire that fed on itself, growing until its proportions had far outstripped the cause. In this case, I wasn’t sure what the best strategy should be . . . If I went after him to apologize, it might pour fuel on his rage. But if I stayed in the bathroom, he might take new offense at being ignored.
I settled for hovering at the doorway, straddling both rooms, watching for a sign of what Nick wanted. He went to the closet and pushed through the clothing with quick, vicious movements, hunting for a shirt. Deciding to retreat, I went back into the bathroom.
My cheeks looked white and stiff. I brushed on some pink blush in light strokes, but the tinted powder seemed to sit on top of my skin, not blending. The brush caught at the mist of nervous sweat and made ruddy streaks. I reached for a washcloth, about to clean it all off, and that was when the world seemed to explode.
Nick had come back, cornering me, clutching something in one fist. Screaming. I’d never had someone scream into my face like that before, certainly not a man, and it was a kind of death. I was reduced to the level of an animal under attack, unable to slip beyond the whiteness of fear, frozen in mute incomprehension.
The thing in his hand was a striped shirt . . . I had ruined it somehow . . . a mistake . . . but Nick said it was sabotage. I had done it on purpose, he said. He needed it for an important meeting this morning, and I said no, I didn’t mean to I’m so sorry but every word brought murderous heat to his face and his arm drew back and the world caught fire.
My head snapped to the side, my cheek blazing, and
Similar Books
