I had not responded to this, of course. I had just lain still and avoided making eye contact with him. I have learned that it is best not to provoke. I think of him as a rabid dog; he snarls and lowers his head, barks a low guttural bark, stands poised to attack, but if one is careful and does not move, does not breathe, sometimes the threat passes and the dog backs down, satisfied with his baring of teeth, the proof of his power and strength. So I absorbed, accepted, waited for him to leave (listened until his feet thumped down the stairs) and then scurried down the hall to the shower.

I am reaching for my flowered dress, the long one that flares in great clouds around me, and mentally finding tights, black shoes, silver earrings, when I hear my husband step through the door behind me. He doesn't speak; he simply takes giant strides toward me. Two steps and he is there. His arm is pulled back and his face is a mask and I know the dog has awakened.

Continue Reading...