Author's Note: This story was born from discussion on the boards of Television Without Pity about how Kevin's abusive nature. Obviously, the show is never going to explore this angle, but some nagging part of my brain insisted that I should. The title is a play on "The Woman who walked into Doors," a monologue from the point of view of a woman with an abusive husband. And of course, the standard disclaimer: I do not own Kevin, Lucy, Mary, or 7th Heaven.
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I love Kevin. I really do. I can't not love him. He's the perfect match for me. Everyone says so: my parents, my siblings, the entire population of Glen Oak. And, as a Camden child, everything about me must be perfect, must measure up to their expectations. If not, I'll have to answer to everyone: my parents, my siblings, the entire population of Glen Oak. How could I face them with an imperfect marriage?
I'm not like Mary. She faced the entire town when she dumped Ben for Captain Jack and she didn't back down. She just said, "Screw you," and moved to Florida. She's out from under their control now, and with someone she truly loves. Sometimes, I wish I could have been as strong as she is and could have gotten out on my own. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed in New York and had never met Kevin…
Not that I don't love Kevin. I really do love him. And I know he must love me. Even when he's angry with me, I know he still loves me.
And I know his anger is mostly my fault, which is why I'm so lucky to have him. When he comes home and I've done something wrong, I can't blame him for getting angry with me. He's such a brave man and his job is so stressful; I should try harder to make home a less stressful place for him. I shouldn't make him have to get angry with me.
I shouldn't make him have to hit me.
The first time he hit me, I was so shocked. I mean, I had realized that he had a short fuse, but I didn't think he was violent…But it was all my fault of course. I couldn't do one simple thing for him. It was the day after we got back from our honeymoon. He went to work, saying he'd be home at 6 that evening and that I should have dinner ready then. Well, Mary called, and I was so happy to talk to her that I just lost track of time. Dinner wasn't ready when Kevin came home.
I almost left him that night. But he apologized.
I wouldn't have done it if you had done what I asked.
I love you Lucy, even when you're a bad wife. But I'm so stressed at work…
And I realized he was right. I should be a good wife and do as my husband asks, just like my parents taught me. Then everything would be all right. And how could I tell my parents that I was such a bad wife that Kevin had to punish me? How could I face everyone in Glen Oak and have them all know I was so imperfect, such a disobedient wife?
I try so hard, but I'm never good enough. I forget the dry cleaning, or I don't iron the shirt well enough. The worst was when Kevin caught me reading a book about sexuality for my gender studies class. He said it was inappropriate for a woman. That was the first time he used sex to hurt me. I dropped the class the next day.
I can't tell anyone. No one can know that I'm bad enough to deserve that kind of punishment. So I make up stories. I hit myself on the corner of a table. I accidentally burned myself cooking. I fell down the stairs. At least that way they just think I'm clumsy. I've always been the clumsy one anyhow, never athletic or poised like Mary and the rest of them.
And for once the expectation of perfection that has always been my curse has been a blessing. I'm a Camden. I don't lie. Of course I have the perfect home life. No one questions me.
They even believed me when I had to go to the hospital for a broken nose that just wouldn't stop bleeding.
I walked into a door.
And no one batted an eye. Of course not. My life is perfect; I'm a Camden.
Every day I pray to God and ask Him to make me a better wife, the kind of wife that Kevin can be proud of. The kind of wife who he won't be ashamed of and disgusted by. Because maybe when I learn, my perfect life won't be a lie anymore.