“I’m sure it’s only due to stress,” Denise told Anne on the phone that evening. “Stress can delay it up to two weeks, or skip it altogether, right?”
“You could be right,” replied Anne calmly, “but it would be better to take a test and be sure.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Denise sighed. “I’ll pick one up when I’m at the store later. I’ll call you in the morning, when I have the results, okay?”
“Okay. Y’know, I probably won’t sleep all night. Can’t you do it tonight?”
“Well, they say the tests are most accurate first thing in the morning, so I’ll wait and do it right, if I’m going to do it all. Besides, I don’t want Mitch to stress out if it’s nothing.”
“All right, all right. Call me right away, okay?”
“I will. Bright and early.”
Denise hung up the phone and went back to her cooking. She knew there would be hell to pay if dinner wasn’t on the table when her husband walked through the door at five o’clock. Assuming, of course, that he wasn’t running late. Again.
Denise Farber was a petite young woman, twenty-eight years old, weighing in at only one-hundred-and-two pounds. Her straight auburn hair flowed down her back, resting just above her waist. Her round, green eyes reflected the fear brewing inside her due to her current plight, but paled in comparison to the sheen of her silky locks. Her tiny frame was lean and muscular. Looking at her, one could easily tell she had been a dancer and very athletic most of her life. Denise was a strikingly attractive woman, yet the misery her marriage clouded her beauty, and her latest predicament only added fuel to an already raging fire.
Her period was two weeks late, which wasn’t normal, especially considering how long she had been on the pill. Her cycle was like clockwork, so even only two weeks late was a cause for concern. Denise called her best friend, Anne Reilly, in a panic; afraid she might be pregnant. With things as tense as they had been, over this past year especially, stress could likely be the cause, she thought. She heard the front door open, and cringed. Dammit, she thought, he’s early for once. It’s barely four thirty! Frantically, she whisked the roast out of the oven and placed it on the serving mat in the center of the dining room table.
“Denise!” Mitch barked from the front foyer. “Where are you?”
“I’m in the dining room,” she replied, trying to sound happy he was home. The truth was, she was only happy when he wasn’t home. “You’re home early. What a nice surprise,” Denise forced herself to smile at her husband. “How was work?”
“Same shit, different day,” he growled, entering the kitchen. Mitch Farber towered over his wife, standing a bold six feet to her not quite five feet tall. His dark eyes were brooding and foreboding. His blond-streaked brown hair resembled a rat’s nest on a good day, and the texture was similar to straw. After a long day’s work in landscaping, his appearance easily passed for that of a madman.
“Roast?” he snarled viciously. “Why are we having roast again? Can’t you cook anything beside roast?” His eyes flashed with anger as he hurled the roasting pan at her. “I’m sick of roast! Pick up this mess and get me something else to eat.”
“Honey,” Denise stammered, trying to hold back the tears, “we haven’t had roast for at least a month.”
“I told you,” Mitch snapped back, backhanding her across the cheek. “I’m sick of eating pot roast. You can never fucking cook it right, anyway – it’s always friggin dry and frankly tastes like shit. You’re fucking useless. I don’t know why I put up with your bullshit!! Forget it. I’ll go grab something at McDonald’s.”
“U-u-m. Ok. H-How long do you think you’ll be?”
“I’ll be home when I get home. Don’t ask me stupid questions.” He glanced around the dining room with an evil glint in his eyes. “If this mess isn’t gone when I get home, you’ll get worse than that little slap, too. So get to work!”
With that, Mitch stormed out the front door. The house shook when he slammed the door behind him. Some of Denise’s delicate ceramic figurines flew off the display shelf nearby and shattered on the floor into tiny pieces. Angrily, she brushed the tears from her eyes, and reached for the dustpan under the kitchen sink. “Great,” she muttered to herself. “Even more mess to clean up.” In a matter of moments, she heard his truck squealing down the street while she tidied up.
“Someday, I hope I can have nice things that won’t be broken in his tirades!” Denise dried her eyes, and put away the dust pan and brush. “Well, at least he’s gone for a while,” she muttered to herself. “Oh, god, I hope I’m not pregnant! How can I raise a child with that monster?” Denise cleaned the roast off the dining room floor and cleared the table. She mopped the floor and put out the garbage. “Now at least I can get the marketing done, without hearing him gripe about me going out.” She sniffled, then sighed. “Better make it quick, or he’ll just throw a tantrum because I’ve been gone too long.”
Relief washed over Denise when she returned from the store. Mitch’s truck was still gone. Phew, she thought, I beat him home. She wrestled the bags out of the car, and fumbled to unlock the front door. She pulled the pregnancy test out first, and hid it, burying it in the box of tampons beneath the bathroom vanity. “The one place I know he’ll never snoop,” she whispered softly to herself. Denise breathed deeply in an attempt to calm her tattered nerves, and scurried off to put away the rest of groceries.
Denise called Anne as she organized and put away the groceries.
“Can you come over for a few minutes? Mitch and I had another, uh, ‘episode’. He’s gone and I could use the company.”
“Oh, no! Denise, are you okay? I’ll be right over!”
“I’m fine. Thanks, Anne. See you shortly.”
As she hung up the phone, the doorbell rang.
‘Oh, no! Did the neighbors hear us again?’ she thought to herself, embarrassed. She opened the door to find her neighbor, Melanie Roth, standing on the porch with coffee cakes, and her husband Ralph holding a pot of freshly brewed coffee.
Denise opened the door, “Ralph, Melanie, please come in! Thank you for the coffee and snacks. How thoughtful. Anne is on her way, too. We’ll just have a little party!”
Melanie entered first. She stood slightly taller than Denise, about five foot two inches, and was not quite as thin as Denise, although by no means a large woman. She had short black hair, a delicate face, with brown eyes the color of cappuccino with just a touch of cream. Ralph, on the other hand, stood about five feet eight inches tall, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. His rugged good looks and powerful smile radiated with kindness.
“That sounds great,” Melanie said. “We couldn’t help noticing that Mitch left in a huff and thought you could use some company.”
“That’s so nice of you both! Thank you. Let me a get a hotplate and the coffee cups.”
The friends sat, ate and drank their coffee, making small talk until Anne arrived. Anne stood only an inch shorter than Ralph, slender and curvy in all the right places, with long blond hair reaching to her buttocks. Her sparkling light blue eyes completed the picture – her natural beauty made her look like a model. Anne noticed the bruise on Denise’s cheek.
“Denise! He hit you! Come here! Let me see that bruise.” She gently examined Denise’s cheek. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”
“I’m sure. I’m fine. It’s a little tender, but okay.”
“Denise, we’ve talked about this before. You have to leave him!” Melanie stated firmly. “You deserve better than this.”
“I know we’ve talked about this, and I’ve told you: my folks disowned me and won’t let me come home. Furthermore, I have no access to money. My name is on the account so I can deposit paychecks and stuff, but I’m not an authorized signer and can’t withdraw anything. I don’t even have a debit card!”
“How do you grocery shop or even put gas in your car?” Ralph asked.
“He gives her cash,” Anne replied, “then demands the receipt and change. He makes sure there’s no discrepancy.”
“What about when you deposit your own paycheck? Can’t you request cash back?” Melanie asked.
“Nope,” Denise answered. “He takes the deposit slip and my paycheck stub. I am not ALLOWED to have money.”
“What about your in-laws? Won’t they help you?” Ralph inquired.
“No. I’ve tried. They won’t go against their son.” Denise sighed. “It’s hopeless. I’ve shown them the bruises and hand prints, but they don’t believe he’d do that to me. They see him through rose-colored glasses. He can do no wrong in their eyes.” She paused, reflecting. “They don’t like me anymore because they think I’m trying to ruin his life for fun.”
“All that and now this,” Anne glanced at Denise. “Have you told them yet?”
“Told us what?” Melanie asked, confused.
“My period is two weeks late,” Denise dropped her gaze to her hands. “I might be pregnant. I’m taking a test in the morning.”
“Oh my god!” Melanie cried. “You HAVE to leave him NOW! You can’t raise a child with that… that… man!”
“My baby needs a father,” Denise countered. “Besides, we have established that I have no way to leave and nowhere to go. Plus, he’s made it very clear he’ll never let me go! So, that sort of ends this conversation,” she said firmly. “Besides, Mitch might be home soon and he won’t be happy that I have company. I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay,” Ralph answered. “We need to get ready to turn in anyway so we can work tomorrow.”
“Same here,” Anne agreed.
“Thank you all for coming,” Denise said graciously, hugging each of her guests. “I really needed this!”
“Anytime,” Melanie and Anne responded in unison.
After everyone left, Denise quickly did the dishes and went to take a hot bubble bath to relax herself as much as possible. Then she snuggled into bed for the night.
Around midnight, she heard Mitch’s truck pull into the drive. She closed her eyes, and pretended to be asleep. She hoped her charade would work. Why am I worried, she thought to herself. It always works. Minutes later, Mitch climbed into bed beside her, and promptly fell asleep.
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