CHAPTER 2

She arrived home at five o clock that morning. When she stepped into the house, she kicked off her shoes and heard the loud grumble of Johns Honda Civic disappearing into the night. The headlights momentarily flashed through the windows and sprayed the walls with a white surprising glare. John often gave her rides because his home was just another two miles in the same direction east of Crescent Rim. Jenny had a license, but owned no private vehicle herself. She took a cab to the diner whenever Tom was on his business trips, and supposed it was just one of the manythough less than subtleways he emotionally (and, perhaps, psychologically) tamed her. Pain throbbed through her feet as she entered the house and closed the door behind her. Jenny forced herself into a ball on the floor and sat back against the door. She drew her legs in and pressed her forehead against her knees. An ache began in her temples. It was an ache filled with lead, hot lead, molten lead, throbbing lead, weighing inside her head like a massive pendulum swinging back and forth in the dark. Jenny sobbed for a few minutes (though not reallyno, not really. They were just hoarse gasps in the dark), and then picked herself up when she was done. She walked barefoot through the dark and stopped in the living room. A red eerie light blinked in the center of the living room. It was the answering machine. Its probably Tom, Jenny thought numbly as she walked over and pushed the PLAY button. Hes probably calling to say he wont be back until tomorrow evening again and that hes out of Boise. The answering machine whirred to life. Jenny. Bingo. Its me. Look, Im getting held up at the office again and Bradley is meeting me tomorrow at noon. I need you to fax me the Whittingham documents when you have time tomorrow morning. I need them before two o clock. Ill be back Friday. Thanks. Love you. The message ended with a dull beep. Jenny shuddered at the abrupt stop and hugged herself. The wine stains were still there. Even in total darkness of the living room, one could make out their original shapes spilled across the carpet. The stains looked like splattered gunshot wounds. Grape juice, some part of her wanted to say, but was unsure. Another part of her mind laughed when seeing the stains, and said wryly: All thats needed now is a chalked outline of my body lying on the floor. Jenny shuddered. She closed her eyes for a minute and swayed quietly on her feet. She turned around after a few seconds and headed for the stairs. She took her pants off midway up the stairs. She grabbed the pins in her hair and tossed them to the side. Soon she was undoing her blouse, slipping out of her underwear, unhooking her bra, and then was fully naked by the time she reached the second floor. She trembled when a cold draft of air touched her skin, and realized, with an odd sense of bitter irony, that her nakedness in the dark like this was quite liberating, freeinggood. In this moment of cold blindness and dark, there was nothing but the metaphoric securities of being carried in the

protective wombs of a fading night. Who would have thought, a voice whispered from somewhere behind her, that being naked like this could feel so good? That this nakedness was actually warm, comfortingsafe? She reached the bathroom and stepped into the shower. She turned on the hot water and waited for it to burn her skin. Shed kept the lights off. Tom would be back soon. His message hadnt indicated when, but it didnt matterhe would be back soon. The physical conditions of the house fell on her shoulders where she was meant to maintain all that was already faultless and clean. She would clean; she would work. She would tidy what had become unruly due to minute moments of neglect, and take care of all that seemed imperfect. Tom was keen with his nose and knew if she ever cheated on him with her shower. He was also uncannily aware with his sense of sight and could detect any imperfections she failed to correct. He liked things pristine, Jenny knew; he liked things cleaned. In Toms world, men were beautiful clean creatures endowed with superb qualities. Businessmen, then, were even cleaner, and required stupendous amounts of effort to properly maintain themselves. A perfectly set smile with full white teeth, a strong dominate jaw-line with chiseled chin and stern nose, broad shoulders, clean-cut and expertly jelled hair all of these, despite their grand and immense importance, fell subordinate to one simple Tom rule: if it didnt smell clean, then it was just shit clean. Tom had to reteach this lesson to her a month ago. Back then, the days had been quiet and serene. School had ended, and Teacher Tom had momentarily retired from instructing. Had Jenny been a good student? She had beenindeed she had been, and summer school had no longer been an option on Toms mind. Her status as a student was mediocre, but her efforts were grand. There were, of course, occasions where he still tutored, but these moments were breathlessly brief. There were, for example, moments where shed clumsily trip over her own tangling feet and spill water across the carpet, other moments where shed mindlessly load their laundry together without removing her lipstick, and other times when she slammed the door too loudly when returning home from work and woke him up in bed. There were fleeting moments where she failed to remove a coffee stain from his business suit, foolishly uttered a stupid comment in front of his clients, and other times whered she forget the essential rule of having absolutely NO food or drinks in the car. So, yeswhile school was out of session and Tom no longer taught as an instructor, he most certainly still tutored, and what he tutored were lessons primarily consisting of hard, cold, dreadful stares in the eyes, a warning slap to the face or thighs, a simple pinching of the arms or breasts, or a quick palm-slap to the cheek. Nothing more. Excluding the ridiculous act of sharing a romantic evening together eating greasy pizza and drinking cheap wine (an act so obscene that Tom had dubbed such an occasion as pornographic in his mind on the night hed smeared pizza in her face), there were no great urgent lessons that needed to be learned, and Jenny had proven herself to be a satisfactory pupil. All of this changed last month when Jenny had been making breakfast in the kitchen. Shed been scrambling eggs then. Tom always asked for scrambled eggs when considering his breakfast meals. It was a demand that seemed mind-numbing and meticulously typical: three slices of sizzling Italian pancetta peppered bacon, two links of plump Swaggertys Farm breakfast sausages, and three cracked Wilcox Family Farms Omega 3 eggs. His choice

of drink was always Tropicana Full Premium orange juice, no pulp. Pulp had a strange aftertaste to it. Jenny always made sure to follow these rules. Jenny, babe. Whats this? Shed turned around with a happy smile on her face and a light giddiness in her heart. Her impression was that hed say something congratulatory to her for waking early that morning and cleaning the kitchen. Shed vacuumed the day before and had scrubbed the bathrooms to utter perfection. The Acworths had a large estate that was quite generous for any middle-class American, and the cleaning of the drapes, the dusting of the tables and shelves, changing of the bed sheetsthe vacuuming of the carpet, taking out the trash, washing the dishesand the scrubbing of the bathroom tiles had all been untold labors unto themselves. And yet, Jenny had done it all for him, and had been delighted (if not relieved) when shed been praised for her efforts. She turned around expecting a surprised smile on his face. What she saw instead was a dull look of rage in his eyes and their pillow cases in his hands. They were the same pillow cases they used when sleeping together. Jenny knew instantly what shed done wrong. Jenny. II forgot! she stammered. She quickly ran over. Oh jeez, Im so sorry, Tom, Im so sorry. Jesus, I was just so tired last night, I didnt think of taking a shower before sleeping. I know, Im sorry, my hair smelled so bad last night, but He backhanded her. The blow came out of nowhere and smashed the left side of her face, sending her to the ground. Her limbs tangled together like a broken puppet. Dont hurt me, her mind whimpered. Oh, please, whatever he does, dont let him hurt me, dont let him hurt me, please, God Wash these, Jenny. I want you to wash these. Do you understand? She nodded. A pulsating throb radiated from the corner of her left eye. She brought her hand to her face and felt one side swell with fire. Please, Tom, she sobbed. She tried looking at him. I didntI didnt mean to. Im sorry. Please. He stared at her. Jenny sobbed again and drew herself into a ball. His ringsthey hurt so bad when he smacked her like that. Do you remember the Rahmans? he asked her. Huh, Jenny? She nodded. She didnt really, but it was stupid to say otherwise. And do you know that the Rahmans are close partners with Mr. Lassek? Tom, please. I said Im sorry. My face The Lasseks are at the top of the chain, Jenny! Theyre top. Do you understand? She nodded. Im going to meet Mr. Rahmans and his family tonight. Im going to dress in my best business suit and offer them the best deal theyre ever going to see. But do you know what might hold me back from making that deal, Jenny?

Jenny shook her head. He threw the pillow cases at her. This Jenny. This right here. No salesman makes a sale if they smell like this. Do you understand? Do you think I can go to sleep smelling like wasted grease shit and then wear a suit to work and expect to make a sale? This shit smells so bad it cant even be washed off at the cleaners! He stomped his foot down. Jenny squealed. She backed away and huddled against the leg of their dining room table. Wash these, he told her again. Wash them, Jenny. And make them clean, do you understand? Make them clean. And next time you decide to come home smelling like that stupid diner place you work at, next time consider: what will Tom think? What will he have to say once he starts smelling like his stupid wife? Okay? Jenny nodded. She watched soberly as he walked back up the stairs and stared at the pillow cases. Tears ran down her cheeks. She carefully got up and gathered the cases, clutching them to her chest. Stupid. Shed just been so goddamn stupid again. He had called her stupid, and Jenny supposed hed been right, although being called stupid still hurt. In ways she couldnt explain, being called stupid like that was akin to being hit in the face with a blunt fist that broke ones nose. Perhaps the pain was much worse; perhaps the pain was so horrible that only analogies could be used to describe the pain. When said with a snarl, being called stupid was a deep cut to the heart that stabbed directly beneath the skin. The marks on her face healed after a few weeks, but the nature of wordsthey sank deep beneath the rings of mascara and by-passed thick layers of foundation. Concealer could not conceal the hurt of words, for words rang forever in ones memory. His fists made it hard to breathe, hard to live, but they were bearable. Manageable. But wordswords could not heal like skin. You hurt me, Tom, Jenny thought soberly, clutching the pillow cases, not just with your fists, but with your words, too. Do you understand? Do you understand how much words weigh? You may not understand, but I do, and I have to take it so much in my heart. I woke up this morning trying to please you, made you breakfast, and now Jennys heart stopped. Her face went blank and her eyes widened. She dropped the pillow cases to the ground and ran back to the kitchen. Oh, God, no, no! She ran over and switched off the stove. Sparks of bacon fat jumped from the frying pan and stung her arm. She screamed. She flinched backward and sought desperately for a rag. Not only had she left the scrambled eggs to go dry and ruin, but shed also forgotten all about the bacon strips. They lay crispy and burnt looking like shortened muscle appendages shriveling into decaying worms. Tom didnt like his bacon too crispy. Jesus, not today, not today, please God, not today! She found a rag on the counter and wrapped it around the handle of the frying pan. There was no sense to what she was doingany other sane person would have just let the boiling pan settle, pour the waste out, and remake breakfast. But today her heart was in a panic and her mind was in overdrive (not to mention that her face was swelling fat with pain too), so when another splash of burning oil popped out and burned her hand, Jenny screamed again, dropping the entire pan of sizzling bacon on her feet.

OH GOD, NO! NO, PLEASE! Hot oil burned her toes. Jenny screamed and jumped into the air. One bare foot came directly down against the hot surface of the frying pan, causing her to howl. Jenny? Toms voice. Somewhere upstairs in the bathroom. Jenny, whats going on down there? NOTHING! she screeched. Nothing! Everythings fine! She hobbled to the sink and turned on the water. She brought the rag up, placed it under the rushing faucet, and then desperately wrapped it around her foot. She sat back for a minute and cried, pounding her fists on the kitchen tiles. This cant be my life anymore. It just cant be. Please, God, was I really born to suffer all of this? Ten whole minutes passed before breakfast resumed again, and by then, Jennys foot had grown red and tender on the sole. Had Tom spotted her slipping around crying, hed have it in mind to do more than just teach her a lesson: He would have brought her to detention. And if detention wouldnt teach her, he would have brought her to boarding schooland no doubt too the boarding school of his choosing would have closely resembled the shape of a hospital. But Jenny was lucky. Tom was a man who liked things cleaned. His time in the shower was like a man performing a religious ceremony. These look great, babe, he said to her once he was done. He sat at the breakfast table and looked at her. Something wrong, babe? Jenny shook her head at him. She did it in a tentative, shy way. She simply offered him a brief waning smile and told him quietly: I burnt my foot. When asked where, shed shown him her foot, now wrapped in a bandage. Tom frowned at her. She needed to be careful, he told her. Alsohad she washed the pillow cases yet? Love you, Jen, he said once he was at the doorway. Jenny nodded and let him cup her face before kissing her on the cheek. Love you too, Tom, she whispered as he walked away. II love you too.
***

The glass doors drew back, and Jenny finally stepped out of the shower. She reached blindly for a towel and felt her fingers touch something soft and light hanging on the wall. Silence followed as she dried herself in the dark. YesTom said he loved her that day. He had whispered it in her ear like a terrible secret. And when hed come back from work later that afternoon, hed been gentle when making love to her, caressing her breasts this time, not cruelly squeezing them, telling her that he was sorry if hed upset her. And Jenny had, like always, ignored his last remark, telling him to just hold her, to stop talking, and to let him take her away so she could become drunk with the dark. Hed said he loved her that day. Dim flickers of violet crept through the curtained windows and spilled darkly along the marble floor. Morning

was here. Jenny dried the last bits of her hair and threw the towel to the floor. She hesitated. Why should she care? Tom wouldnt be back until Friday. All her clothes tossed out on the stairs, her partially dried and fully naked body in the darkthese were hers, werent they? Crazy, Jenny thought as she turned off the bathroom fan. Justgoing crazy with what little happiness I have. Christ. She left the bathroom and entered the hallway. Like before, she kept all the lights off as she walked, and, like before, she walked freely and naked in the dark. She entered their bedroom, found their large king-sized bed, and flopped down with a happy sigh. He knows youve been crying. Jenny groaned. She rolled on her side and drew in her legs. The man, her mind whispered, the man at Red Moons. He knows youve been crying. I dont care. Leave me alone. Tired. Cryingthe manhe knows youve been crying. Fading. Yes, she was fading. She was just fading away from the world. The blankets beneath her body felt nice and cool while the darkness around her was quiet and heavy. She was fading. Just fading. The manheshes always there, that man, hes always there that man hes always always hes there he he he