Beneath the Bruises by Dywane D. Birch

Author:Dywane D. Birch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2008-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Dinner has been eaten, the kitchen cleaned, and the boys are preparing for bed. Randy is in his study when I finally decide to approach him.

“Offenders program?” He snorts indignantly. “This sounds like it’s for some common criminal. I don’t want to be around that type of element.”

“It’s not that kind of group,” I offer, stealing glances around the room. “It’s for domestic violence. It focuses on relationship issues, discusses the dynamics of abuse, and there are all types of men from different backgrounds…”

“You think I’m abusive?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

Yes, I think. But, if I tell him the truth, it will most likely escalate into a fight. If I don’t, then I remain stuck in denial. I give him a half-truth, stretched and twisted. “I believe you love me. But you are under a lot of stress that you sometimes take out on me. And you sometimes say and do things when you get angry that you really don’t want to.” I hear Doctor Curtis say It’s not about anger.

“I thought you wanted us to go together. And now you’re coming up with this group nonsense with a bunch of misfit men I have nothing in common with. Where’s all this coming from?”

No, you wanted us to go together.

I think, consider. “Doctor Curtis thinks couples counseling is a great idea,” I state gently. “But he believes it would benefit us both if we went to separate counseling first—only for a while.”

“I don’t need that kind of counseling,” he states flatly. “I don’t know what you’re telling that doctor of yours, but I’m not the one with the problem.”

His words sting, and I struggle hard not to crumble beneath their weight. In his eyes, everything is my fault, my problem. I wonder what happened to the man, who two weeks ago, was willing to do whatever it took. This is not a marital problem…it is not your problem. In his stare, I see his demanding need for affirmation. I look away. “I’m not saying that, Sweetheart,” I say. “I just want you to please think about it…for us.”

The muscles in his face twitch. He studies me for a moment. “I’ll think about it,” he finally says, glancing at the card one last time before folding it and tossing it up on his desk.

I force a smile, then walk over and plant a soft kiss on his lips. A kiss that holds very little meaning for me, but speaks volumes for him. It is a peace offering. An invitation for what’s to come. He pats me on the rear.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” he replies, turning his attention back to his computer screen.

“Okay,” I say, easing my way out the door, thankful this didn’t turn into an argument, and he at least didn’t say no.

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