Ch.11 Looking on, She sings her song, the words she knows the tune she hums.
I sat up late that night, the sound of snoring coming from the bedroom doors that lay open just a crack. The kitchen table became my watch post for the night and a steaming mug of tea lay between my hands. The kitchen clock ticked softly behind me, and the night wind whipped rain against the windows. Old photographs were scattered across the table, a thin white gold wedding band and a silver engagement ring with a tiny navy colored sapphire incased in the middle both joined the photos in the center of the table. I rubbed my eyes as I pulled the faded pictures from an photo album with worn pages.
This was my night time ritual, before bed I guilted myself with old memories that haven't yet been doomed to the forgotten. I remembered those years like they were yesterday, when I met Kendall's father I had been beaten severely by a boyfriend and I was pregnant, the child would have been Kendall's older brother but circumstances had forced me into a women's shelter and I had no choice to but to have an abortion for fear of the world he would have been plunged into. A shelter is no place to raise a baby, my parents were offering me no assistance. I met Mr. Knight, Ryan Knight he was like a taller and more muscular version of my son, except for the facial features which were most definitely a masculine form of mine. Ryan had been a poor lawyer when I met him, fresh out of law school. The cash he had saved up was enough for two. We went on our first date to a beautiful little italian restaurant, drank large glasses of red wine and ate plates of spaghetti. He seemed like the right kind of guy who always knew what to say and how to make me feel special. He had charm and at the time I looked to him as my way out of the shelter. About a month later he proposed and we were married within the year and living in his apartment. We were in love as far as I could tell at the time and we had Kendall, the biggest blessing in both of our lives.
"Who am I?" I asked myself staring at the pictures of the vulnerable girl, holding a child whose life would never be the same, with the father who hurt him smiling like a maniac. "How could I have ever thought this picture perfect?" I hated myself looking at pictures of that time. Kendall grew up, and as time went on I think I suspected the abuse, I was just too afraid of losing it all and having to go back to the shelter with my children this time. Ryan paid the bills, he gave us security and I gave him unknowingly my son. I suspected things when Kendall would come back from business trips with his father slightly shaken and distant. Then I would find undergarments stained with blood or fluids and wonder what actually happened. I was too afraid to ask. I'm drinking wine now, cheap chardonnay. Red wine reminds me of Ryan, he always insisted on drinking red wine whenever we had gone to dinner. I cried silently in the cold flourescence of the kitchen light. "Why? why hadn't I believed him when he told me?" I asked myself taking a large gulp from the glass. James immediately appeared in front of me on the kitchen floor kneeling, drying my tears with his beautiful hands, no doubt this was a delusion caused by the wine.
"it's not your fault" Imaginary James whispered into my ear. In this dream I cried out "YES!" I choke on my tears as he strokes my cheek, " It's ALL my fault, I could have saved him from this but I was weak and afraid, that man made me a puppet in his own game and I let him take advantage of my baby because I was weak and afraid" I'm crying harder. "you were always weak, bitch" an imaginary Ryan spat at me his face replacing the face of James in my dream, " poor Kendall, guess he never got over what daddy did" Ryan whined "it is my fault!" I screeched "I was too weak to protect my baby!" "there's no shame in being weak." a very real James whispered as he reached a hand down to help me from the floor. I blinked and realized I must have fallen asleep "Mrs. Knight, let's get you to bed, I'll clean up out here" James said helping me to my room. " you shouldn't be out of bed yet James, you're injured" I scolded. James laughed quietly, "I'm slightly banged up not dying" he said softly as he helped my slightly tipsy self into bed and covered me with the blankets he hugged me gently. " thanks for being there for me" he whispered as he left the room.
I'll assume he cleaned the table up thoroughly afterwards, in the morning the photographs were on the floor by the side of the bed in their albums, and the wine was corked in the fridge. The rings however were nowhere to be found...