Saviour (Saviour #1) by Lesley Jones
FOR PAUL
& MY BOYS
MY SAVIOURS
CHAPTER ONE
I know exactly what to do as the bedroom door closes; I've done it plenty of times before. I keep my breathing slow and steady, not altering its pattern as he slides into bed beside me.
After a minute or two, I make out to twitch, first my leg, then my arm, the way you sometimes do when you’re dreaming or just about to fall asleep, this seems to do the trick. I hear him sigh and turn his back to me.
How has it become so bad I lay here thinking? Our relationship has always been so fiery, so passionate, and so full of love, but now, after 26 years together there seems to be nothing. Nothing other than the history we share. In the past, no matter how much we had argued or how much screaming, shouting and fighting we had done, despite all of this, there had always been the sex. Our makeup sex was always as passionate as our arguments and always meant that when we argued, we have usually kissed and made up by the next morning. We argue, we fight, we make love, I cry, and then we talk things through. It’s a pattern we have fallen into and for years this has worked for us, until lately that is. Lately things have changed and not in a good way. Over the past year or so, the arguments have been happening more often, Jay seems to be so angry all of the time, usually with me. I never know which version of my husband will be coming through the door at night and the arguments are getting more violent....the makeup sex is now non-existent... In fact there's very little sex full stop these days and that is just not us, that's just not the way of our relationship.
There are now days of silence between us and I feel constantly, that I am walking on eggshells around him. Too scared to talk in case I say something that pisses him off and it escalates into an act of violence towards me, my nerves are shattered; I am lost and lonely, I thought he was my best friend, but apparently I was totally wrong on that score, I spend all of my time close to tears.
I’m ashamed of myself for putting up with it all. Never did I think I would become a victim of domestic violence and never did I think I would tolerate it and say nothing, perhaps it’s my own fault and no more than I deserve. Victim, I hate that word, only because I know that’s exactly what I am, what I have allowed myself to become ....but today.... today, I have decided, I have truly had enough. Today I’ve decided, that is it, I am finally done, I'm actually in fear of my life, I have always been convinced he loves me, I’ve made excuses for his behaviour, because he loves me, he doesn’t mean to hurt me, because he loves me, he would never really hurt me badly, because he loves….What a load of crap, how can he love me? How can you drag someone you love along the floor by their hair? How can you squeeze someone you love around the throat so hard, they almost pass out? How can you kick someone you love when they're lying on the floor almost unconscious? And it’s finally struck me.... You can't....if you love someone, why on earth would you want to inflict pain on them? So today I have come to the conclusion, that actually, my husband doesn't love me. And to be honest, I don't think I love him anymore....Well that's not entirely true, I do love him but I'm not IN love with him and I certainly no longer respect him. If I'm totally honest, my husband terrifies me. What kind of relationship is that? Why have I taken so long to face up to all this? I’m not an idiot, I’m not weak but I am at a loss to understand why I have put up with this for so long. I assumed it would get better. All marriages go through bad period’s right? Ours was just a bit worse than most peoples, we love passionately, we fight passionately ... But then I have come up with these excuses and have come to these conclusions many times over the past eighteen months or so and here I am, still lying next to my husband, in our bed, pretending to be asleep so he won’t touch me or attempt to initiate sex and as I drift off to sleep, my last thoughts are that I have to do something, things have got to change, he has got to change. If not I will have to leave him, because I know, I just know, deep down, somewhere in my psyche that something bad will happen.
I wake in the morning and slowly slide my leg across the bed to Jason's side, it’s still warm, but he’s already up. I turn over, and look at the clock: 5:30am ....Seriously, 5 f*cking 30? Aarrrghh! Jay has always been an early riser; weekdays, weekends, work or no work, he is always up and awake early. I on the other hand am the complete opposite and could spend the whole day in bed if given the chance.
I lay and recall some of the many, petty arguments it has caused over the years, days out that needed an early start, early morning flights or appointments…. I have always hung on until the very last second till getting up out of bed. I smile to myself, thinking of some of our holidays and trips we have shared. The things we have seen and done, as a couple and together with the boys, as a family, this is just so hard. It has been so good for so long. He's been my best friend, which makes all of this so much harder to bear, I feel so betrayed that he has chosen to treat me this way. An affair would have been less painful....At least I THINK it would. It's not something I've ever had to confront; fidelity has never been an issue. Well not on my part anyway and I'm pretty sure Jay has been faithful!
Over the years, many of our friends have divorced, separated, had affairs but we have always been solid... On the outside at least. There had been a spell, after around 5 years together, that Jason had told me he was leaving me. He had sworn at the time that no one else was involved; he had just decided that he no longer wanted to be in a relationship with me. His career had been just taking off at the time and he was out more and more to lunch and dinner meetings and corporate events. I attended some with him but with two young children under four at the time, it wasn't always possible. I had felt alone and isolated. I had had my children young, the first of all of my friends to do so, while they were all out pursuing careers and spending their weekends clubbing and partying, I sat at home with the boys. It didn't help that a lot of Jay’s events would end up at one of the local clubs or pubs and he would come home and tell me about the friends of mine he had bumped into. Or worse still, he would tell me nothing and I would hear from someone else that he had been seen in a club talking to one of my so called “friends”.