Kevin has never been a good husband. Allison knows that. He had never been a good boyfriend either. She naively thought that once they got married he would fulfil his role as the dutiful husband. She thought he would slip into her fantasies and make them a reality. She hoped he would make them a reality. She hoped for the dutiful husband. When she realised that was never going to happen, she hoped for a loyal husband (the matching panties and bra Allison found herself washing just three months into their marriage threw that hope away. They were not hers. She had heard enough remarks about her ‘lack of tits’ to know the lacy purple bra would never be hers).
She hoped for respect (beer glasses being thrown at her and grabby hands flung her way and Allison all you do is nag nag nag and Allison you can’t still be on your period and Allison don’t try and think, it hurts your lady brain too much ).
Allison hoped for love (boring sex with a man who only knew how to take - and take and take - and never how to give for fifteen fucking years. Sloppy kisses in front of others replaced by cold, stilted silence when they were alone).
After a while (once all of her hopes were stripped back to nothing and she felt like an idiot for hoping them in the first place - Kevin made her feel like an idiot for having any desires at all), Allison just wanted him to care. For her happiness. For her wellbeing. For her safety. Kevin never fucking cared. That was the realisation that really hurt. Not the lack of loyalty or love, but realising that he never cared.
He never cared and he has never bought her flowers or listened to her problems or had a serious fucking conversation; but she had never felt unsafe. He wasn’t a danger. He was just…Kevin.
Sure, he dragged her into his schemes and brought a gun into their house (into their bedroom. And shot someone with the gun. But that was Allison’s fault, wasn’t it?) and hit her with a door ( accidentally. He didn’t mean to. Allison had spooked him. That was her fault too, right?) and broke her coffee table (her nice coffee table. But she shouldn’t have expected it to last. That was a stupid desire and it was her fault for getting her hopes up… right ?), but that was just Kevin being Kevin.
And yes, sometimes he shouted at her and yes sometimes that made her jump. Not because she wouldn’t see it coming, but because she had an irrational fear that the shouting could lead to something else. But it never did (even though when he was drunk or exceptionally angry, he would punch the wall beside her or slam a fist into the table. But it only happens when he is angry or so drunk that he falls asleeps in rose bushes belonging to god knows who. So it doesn’t really count. That’s just who Kevin is.).
Allison can admit that it isn’t normal for a husband to have sole control over their finances. She can admit that Kevin is a fuck up who fucked up and spent all of their fucking savings. She can admit it is hypocritical for him to track her credit card spendings when he can barely hold down his job. She can admit he can not be trusted. She can admit that she doesn't love him.
Occasionally, Allison will even admit to herself that it can be too much. Maybe she does feel unsafe. But after a moment alone in a bathtub with a bottle of wine (and a locked door so Kevin can’t burst in and ruin her only moment of peace) she realises that her thoughts are stupid and her feelings are stupid and Kevin is just Kevin. Her stupid husband who she needs to escape from. You can need to escape from something without it being dangerous, right?
She tries to remember his good traits. He is funny. He pulled the priest's pants down when she was getting cold feet about the wedding. He-…he’s funny. And he gave the impression that he would love her. He gave the impression that he would be loyal ( like Sam was loyal. Like the way you look at Patty is loyal ). He gave the impression that he would fucking care. Kevin has never been a good husband. Maybe Allison wasn’t always a good wife; but she cared. Up until recently…she cared. She was dutiful (she handed him an endless supply of beer and she cooked him breakfast that she knew he would insult). She was loyal. Well, she was loyal-ish (for years. For so many years. She stopped being loyal when she fucked Sam. But she was loyal. For so long. And where the fuck did that get her?). Maybe loyalty wasn’t her strong suit, but she gave Kevin her love. She handed him her heart on a plate and watched as he shoved it aside; watched as he scraped it into the trash and let it rot. He caused the rot that is now a permanent, unflinching pain in her chest that makes her want to die. That makes her want to do something stupid. Stupid Allison and her stupid lady brain . At the very least, at their very worst, she cared ( You’re the one who tried to kill her husband ). Pretended to care. She had the decency to pretend.
Allison hasn’t always been a good wife. And Kevin has never been a good husband. But she never felt unsafe in their marriage ( Please…I can’t…live like this anymore) . She didn’t feel unsafe until all of a sudden she did.
***
It started small. But it had been building for years. Maybe Allison was too naive to see it coming. Kevin and Neil had played one of their many drinking games. Kevin lost. Or maybe he won. Either way, the result was him being drunk and slapping her. It was not a big, secretive, abusive event. Neil was still in the room. Pete was asleep in the armchair. Kevin slapped her and Neil laughed. He laughed . Kevin slapped her and then went to bed like it was nothing; because it was nothing. It barely even hurt.
So why did she feel the sting of his hand across her reddened cheek for the rest of the night? Why did she wake up thrashing from a nightmare about her dad? Why did she crawl into the bathtub, wineless and alone, thinking about how much she missed her dad and wondering why she dreamt of him for the first time in so long? If it was nothing, why did she sit, thinking, hoping, that maybe Patty would storm through the bathroom door and join her in the bath? Why was her brain stuck on that moment with Patty after the door was kicked in her face? When Patty had asked to see the bruise spreading around her eye. When Patty examined it, but didn’t call it hideous (didn’t call her hideous or stupid). When Patty had gently held the frozen peas against her cheek and silently wiped the dribbles of water off of Allison’s face with her soft fingers. It was so much worse then. She was in actual pain then. She was actually hurt then. So why does she feel so much worse now? Why does she wish Patty would join her in the bath and comfort her by saying If this is you broken, stay broken ?
The next morning went on as always. Allison made breakfast for Kevin. Allison pretended to listen to Kevin. Kevin begrudgingly went to work. Allison ignored everyone. Allison ignored Patty. She couldn’t sleep that night either, the short dreams of her dad and Neil’s laugh were too much. The morning after that Allison made breakfast for Kevin. Allison pretended to listen to Kevin. Kevin begrudgingly went to work and Allison let herself into Patty’s place. The problem arose when she saw Patty. She saw Patty’s face and couldn’t stop the anger rising from her rotten heart.
“Barbie, y’look like shit,” Patty greeted her with a smile. She was sitting on the couch, holding a book. She placed it on her lap. She had her neck craned backwards to see Allison.
Allison couldn’t find her usual retort. It was in her brain somewhere, but it was trapped between Kevins meaty hand and Neils fucking laugh.
“Thanks,” she uttered through gritted teeth. He slapped her and Neil laughed . She licked her lips and tried to remember why she had come over in the first place but all she could think of was Neil’s fucking laugh! Her chin trembled slightly.
“Allison? Hun, what’s wrong?” Patty pushed herself off the couch and stood awkwardly between it and the coffee table. Allison had not moved from her position next to the front door.
“Y’didn’t try to kill anyone, right? No body outside for us to deal with?” Patty tried to joke with an awkward laugh, but it fell flat. “Allison-,”
“Sorry. No. I wouldn’t-, wouldn’t kill anyone without ya,” Allison replied quietly. It should have been a joke, but her chin was still trembling and her hands were squirming against each other and she wasn't making her normal, awkward hand gestures.
“What the fuck did’ya do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” she retorted with more bite than intended. Her brother laughed, though. He laughed. But Patty isn’t her brother and Neil isn’t the problem. Allison sighed. She made the walk of shame over to the couch and flopped her body onto it, ignoring the softness of the couch and the comfort of Patty’s scent and the call of sleep screaming into her ears. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and face in her palms.
“M’sorry,” she mumbled through her hands. “I haven’t been sleepin’ well an’ I’m just…cranky,” she ended lamely.
Patty’s hand pressing gently onto her back made Allison startle and inhale sharply. Her hand was cold. Kevin's hand was hot when it ricocheted across her cheek. Her cheek had been hot and red with a mixture of embarrassment and pain. Patty’s hand was cold, but Allison felt her cheeks heat up anyway.
“Why haven’t you been sleeping?” she asked quietly. Casually. Like she was asking because it’s her job. Like it’s what friends are supposed to do.
Allison didn't know how to reply. She didn’t know how to tell her friend (her only friend. Her more than a friend) that maybe Kevin isn’t ‘just Kevin’ or that maybe this isn’t the first time (maybe it is nowhere near the first time), but for some reason it is the first time she’s noticed. She didn’t know how to tell the only person who understands her (the person being a dutiful friend) that she can’t do this much longer, that she wants it all to stop because it has become too much. She didn’t know how to tell Patty that she doesn’t want to be Gertrude, that sometimes she doesn’t want to be anyone at all. She didn’t know how to tell Patty that maybe her broken is too broken. That maybe she shouldn’t stay broken.
So she didn’t say any of that. Instead she said: “Just…Gertrude things. Gertrude stress. She's a stressed gal.”
Patty licked her lips. Her eye twitched slightly before she managed to get her face in a neutral position. “I'm sure she is. Bein’ a busy woman in her forties and all.”
The half smirk on her face and her left hand holding Allison’s right hand (tightly, like she’s worried Allison might slip away) almost fixed everything. Allison rolled her eyes, but the crooked smile was back on her lips.
Patty slid over to the edge of the couch, dragging Allison with her. Allison’s head fell onto Patty’s shoulder. She tried not to close her eyes, but the two days without sleep (had it really only been two days? Maybe it had been two weeks. Maybe it had been two years. Allison couldn’t tell anymore) affected her more than she had anticipated. Patty didn’t move. Patty didn’t kick her off. Patty sat stoically. And when Allison moved from her shoulder to her lap, Patty didn’t say a thing. When Allison’s legs spread across the couch, Patty didn’t shove her off. Patty leaned behind her, grabbed an old red blanket and threw it over her. (Allison couldn’t stop herself from inhaling the scent of it. It smelt like Patty). Allison tried to stay awake, she really did, but Patty’s hands were running their way through her hair. It felt nice. Her eyes closed.
“Don’t you have’ta go to the salon,” she mumbled, but snuggled further into the couch (into Patty).
“I own the salon,” Patty replied shortly.
Allison inhaled sleepily. “I know that, but-”
“I can do what I want. I wanna sit here and read my book, you gotta problem with that?”
Allison didn’t have a problem with that. And Patty didn’t have a book in her arms. Just Allison.
“No. S’pose I don’t.”
Patty didn’t continue the conversation. She waited until she could hear Allisons soft, even breaths (and the occasional snore. Patty hated that she found it cute, but that’s the only way she would be able to describe it).
“I care, Barbie. I care when you don’t-, when ya haven’t-,” she sighed wearily before continuing, “I care ‘bout you. D’ya have a problem with that?” Allison didn’t reply.
***
Allison’s dreams go back to normal again. Dull and lifeless. The echo of Neils laugh occasionally worms its way in, but it doesn’t bother her anymore. She can sleep again. She can curl up into the tiny corner of the bed that Kevin isn’t occupying and she can sleep. She allows herself to lie in bed and pretend she is somewhere else. She allows herself to pretend she is in a cafe, with a scone and a book. The thought doesn’t give her as much joy as it used to. The cafe is darker. Clouds swarm above. Rain threatens to fall. Her book doesn’t have nice words anymore. Just a list of Allison’s mistakes. ( I make excuses and I bail and I make excuses and I bail and Allison you just always make excuses and bail! ). The pages are ruined. Ripped and wet because the rain is falling now. The rain is pouring and Allison doesn’t want to be there anymore. Allison doesn’t want to be here anymore.
Now that she has noticed it once, she can’t stop seeing it. Seeing the way Kevin pushes her lightly, jokingly , into doors; or the way his foot juts out and she trips over it when he is mad at her; or the way his hands grab her wrists so tightly his thick fingers are imprinted on her pale skin in ugly purple splotches. And when he fucks her (because that’s what it is, he fucks her. They don’t make love, that involves feelings and they don’t have sex, because that involves two willing participants. Allison lies still and Kevin uses her like a fucking sex doll) the marks he leaves no longer feel accidental. It’s as if he is claiming her. And Allison doesn’t have it in her to say no. Maybe she deserves it. Lying still and letting him do what he wants. Maybe this is the role of the dutiful wife. Maybe Kevin is fulfilling the role of dutiful husband. Maybe this is what Allison always wanted. Maybe it would be easier as Gertrude. Maybe it would be easier as nothing.
Allison stops caring. She doesn’t have the energy anymore.
***
It was the same as always. Kevin drank too much. He punched the wall behind Allison. He just had to punch through Allison to get to the wall this time. Except it was one o’clock on a sunday and Allison hadn’t given Kevin any beer yet. He did it anyway.
Allison stumbled into the kitchen, hunched over and heaving useless breaths. The wind was knocked out of her, her eyes were glassy and her vision was foggy. She wobbled her way to the kitchen floor, accepting the cool tiles as she lay down. She curled in on herself, in the corner of the kitchen, just under the sink like the true housewife she was. Although the cold tiles were nice on her black eye (that one was from last week. Kevin was celebrating something, and he flung his arm backwards, elbowing her in the eye. Allison wasn’t quite sure what he was celebrating.), it was doing nothing for her already bruised ego. She tried to stand, but the speed at which she did made her dizzy and she had to grip at the counter to keep her from keeling over. Her knuckles were white and her vision was swimming when the kitchen door swung open.
“Where’s Kevin?” Patty asked, making her way to the fridge to grab a beer as she did.
“Dunno,” Allison replied faintly. She felt like she might throw up. She knew she should tell Patty. She had to tell Patty that-
“Tammy’s comin’ over. So uh, no murders and no benders,” Patty joked with a smile.
Allison smiled. Her fake smile, The smile she gave Kevin. She kept her mouth shut.
***
Allison couldn’t curl into her corner of the bed comfortably that night, so she ended up in the bath again. She lay, stretched out in the bath in her pyjama pants and bra, with a bottle of red in one hand. Her other hand was occupied examining her midriff. It was red and slightly swollen, but it didn’t look too bad. It could’ve been worse. Allison wanted Patty anyway. She wanted to fall asleep on Patty’s lap, with Patty’s hands in her hair and Patty’s stilted words in her ear. ( I care, Barbie ).
Allison wanted Patty’s red blanket and Patty’s soft, cold hands and Patty .
But Patty had Tammy. Patty didn’t want Allison’s shit. Patty didn’t want her bruises or her mistakes. Patty wanted Tammy. Patty wanted the opposite of Allison. Allison gulped her wine and pretended the bottle had touched Patty’s lips. She allowed herself to pretend Patty was in the bath next to her, laughing, scheming, doing anything . Her imagination slipped. Tammy on Patty’s couch. Tammy on Patty’s lap. Patty’s fingers in Tammy’s hair. Patty had Tammy. And Allison…Allison had a bruised torso, a black eye and a bottle of wine. And Kevin .
Allison felt the urge to do something stupid.
***
She sat on the step of the porch, shivering against the wet wood. Patty was inside. In her house with Tammy. Asleep next to Tammy. And here was Allison, sitting on her porch with a bruised face, a bruised ego and a bleeding arm, waiting for Patty to be done with her girlfriend so she could have Patty’s leftover time. She wanted any time Patty had to give her. She would devour any of it.
The wine and the blood and the bruises made it hard to think straight. Somewhere deep down Allison knew Patty wouldn’t be ‘done’ with Tammy until the morning, when they went their separate ways and went to work. Another part of her wanted to burst through the door and prove Tammy wrong. She wanted to unzip her coat and flaunt her bruised abdomen and scream. ( See Tammy! See, Kevin isn’t just Kevin! Kevin is dangerous! Kevin isn’t just a stupid man !) Maybe if people saw her physical injuries, they would believe how bad it really is.
But she couldn’t go in. She tried to knock at least three times, but then she would see her horribly wrapped wrist and Patty’s words would loop in her head. ( Allison? This self-destructive bullshit? Killing yourself? It's just playing the victim again ).
So she sat in the cold until she didn’t feel anything except light-headed and numb. She was crying. She wasn’t sure when that had started. Tears and snot flowed down her face, bringing yesterday’s make-up with it. She was shivering so hard she was unsure if she’d be able to knock if she tried (again). This isn’t how their relationship worked. This isn’t how it is supposed to work. Allison isn’t supposed to cry and beg for comfort. For scraps of comfort. She's supposed to do something stupid and rely on Patty to fix it. Maybe this is stupid. Maybe she needs to rely on Patty to fix it. Maybe she should knock on the door. Allison was unsure if she would be able to stand.
***
Patty awoke to her phone ringing. At four in the fucking morning.
“Someone better be dead or fuckin’ dying,” she mumbled, picking up the phone from her nightstand. Tammy groaned next to her when Patty flicked the lamp on. Patty had forgotten she was there. Allison was calling her. Fuck. ( someone actually could be dead or dying ).
Patty kicked Tammy out, ignoring her protests. Ignoring her complaints. Her moans about Allison being a grown woman. About it being four in the morning. About Patty being crazy. Patty didn’t give a shit.
She watched Allison curl further in on herself on the porch step as Tammy stormed past her. Maybe if she hadn’t still been grumbling to herself she could’ve used her fucking cop skills to notice the blood on Allison’s sleeve, or her black eye, or the way she flinched backwards when Tammy walked past.
“M’sorry,” Allison said softly, but she was still crying and it came out with a sob that crushed Patty more than the realisation that Tammy was probably never coming back.
“None’a that. Come on.” Patty grabbed Allison’s trembling hands and pulled her into a standing position. Allison’s knees buckled and Patty had to basically carry her inside and onto the couch.
“What happened?” Patty asked gently while she unzipped Allison’s coat (Allison’s hands were too numb to do it herself).
“Wait stop,” she said when Patty’s hands were about half way down the zip of her coat.
“Barbie, why aren’t ya wearing a top?” Allison shrugged, redness spilling into her cheeks. Patty could feel her own cheeks warming. She continued to unzip the coat slowly.
“Fuck, Allison. What happened?” she muttered when she saw the state of Allison’s body (her beautiful, beaten body).
She slid the coat off Allison’s arms as gently as she could. Patty’s breath hitched when she saw her left wrist. Blood seeped through the tea towel that was wrapped around it.
“Allison-,”
“I stopped,” she declared with wide eyes and stubborn defiance. Patty wrapped her red blanket around Allison’s shoulders. “I stopped, basically as soon as I started. It-, it was the wine. I thought-, I dunno what I thought but I couldn't, I couldn't go through with it, I didn't go through with it-” her words fell out of her mouth at a mile a minute, trying to excuse or explain.
“Why d’ya start?”
Allison bit her lip. “I think…I think maybe Kevin isn’t just Kevin. He’s…he’s-”
“Fucking dead,” Patty spit.
“ Violent ,” Allison finished.
Patty took off Allison's shoes. She helped her change into her old pyjamas and lay down next to her in bed. She fished out the frozen peas from the back of the freezer and pressed them against Allison’s abdomen. She removed the bloodied tea towel and examined Allison’s… mistake . It didn’t look too deep. It wasn’t too long. Patty had to leave the room when she realised the direction it was going in. It was more than a mistake. It could have been a fatal mistake . That was the point though, wasn’t it? Patty came back with a bandage. She would always come back.
Patty let Allison sleep on her, even though they were in a double bed. She let Allison put her head on her chest and tuck her legs around Patty’s legs. She ran her hands through Allison’s hair and wiped the few stray tears that fell from her eyes.
“I care ‘bout you too Patty,” Allison whispered. “So much.”
***
Patty is a dutiful friend who cares about Allison (soft fingers running through Allison’s hair. Gentle hands removing her coat and holding frozen peas against her bruised abdomen). Patty respects Allison (and her ideas, even when they get them both in trouble). Patty is painstakingly loyal (kicking Tammy out because Allison needed her. She chose Allison, time and time again).
And above all else, Patty loves Allison. ( You knew I wouldn’t say no, not to you! ) Patty loves Allison. And Patty is not Kevin. And maybe Allison chose the wrong person to go home with in the bar all those years ago. Maybe she should have gone with the person who caught her when she fell off the stool. Maybe Allison loves Patty too.