Well Behaved Wives(45)

“I banged it on the edge of the counter,” Carrie said, looking away.

Ruth pitched her voice lower, trying to express concern without judgment. “Is that true?”

“Why would I lie?” Her voice held an air of indignation.

Ruth shrugged, but there was an unseeing look in Carrie’s eyes.

Carrie lifted her chin, her expression defiant. “I’m accident-prone. That isn’t a crime.”

Accidents happened. And attacks happened. Ruth had seen so many victims of violence—they still haunted her. Tender young children with black eyes, broken ribs, missing teeth. Women who had been punched so hard their bones had shattered when they bounced against cement or metal. Ruth had worked with girls who had despicable boyfriends and husbands, and she helped them extract themselves when she could.

But those women weren’t like Ruth and Carrie. They were the disenfranchised, the poor, the laborers, the tenement residents. Not the wives of vice-principals. Of educated people.

Ruth had sat on Eli’s patio, imbibed his coffee, listened to his wife relate tales of his job. Eli had golfed with Asher.

Ruth leaned closer to Carrie. “I can help you.”

“I don’t need any help. I need to make dinner.” Carrie walked faster, but Ruth kept up, determined to not let this go. “It was an accident, I swear. He just doesn’t know his own strength. Drop it, Ruth. It won’t happen again.”

Ruth’s stomach clenched as if she had been punched. Carrie had admitted it.

“He apologized, Ruth. Forget what you saw.” Carrie shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m even telling you this. He bought me flowers and he’s going to manage his temper, he promised. No matter what I do, okay?”

Heartbroken for her friend, Ruth wanted to wrap her arms around her.

She didn’t dare. Carrie didn’t like to be touched, of course not.

Not all markings showed. Many women had hidden trauma. Beaten verbally and emotionally, they had also been brutalized.

Most of those women had been beaten by their husbands or boyfriends. Black eyes, broken ribs, bruised backs. Carrie’s mark had been mild in comparison. Still.

A few had unfairly lost jobs or housing because of it. A few had been unjustly arrested, as if they weren’t the victims. Ruth had scoured New York laws that would protect them. There were very few.

“There is nothing you’ve done or could do that makes this okay. You know that, right?”

Carrie’s eyes flashed. “Did you not hear me? He said he’ll stop. You need to mind your own business.”

Ruth had seen this before—women protecting their men, even their bad men.

She plowed on. “What do you mean, ‘he said he’ll stop’? How long has this been going on?”

Carrie turned on Fifty-Second Street. “You’ve got it all wrong. He will stop. It’s under control.”

How had Ruth not seen this right away? Here she had thought she was gaining new friends, and she hadn’t been one herself. Of all of them, Ruth was the one who had experience with victims of abuse. How did she not know this was happening to Carrie? She’d been at her house. She’d seen the bruise on her neck. Ruth had told Carrie her deepest secret, and she didn’t know about Carrie’s.

Was this type of abuse among respected, educated people simply a lone, isolated case, or were there more women like Carrie, suffering in silence? A dirty little secret that was never discussed in polite society. If it could happen to Carrie, it could happen to anyone.

Carrie’s voice softened. “Trust me. Everything is fine, Ruth. Or it will be.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m expecting.” Carrie stopped walking and touched her belly. She looked longingly at her abdomen for a moment, as if she were receiving a gift that would anoint her with special powers, a golden touch that would right the world and keep her safe.

Ruth fought a feeling of nausea. She wanted to scream. A baby was the last thing Carrie needed. Experience told her that this was a setback for her friend, because it stopped a woman from taking action to get help. She swallowed, and camouflaged her fear with a smile.

“Eli has been frustrated since we got married because I wasn’t getting pregnant fast, but now, that’s not a problem.”

“You’re going to have the baby with a man who hurts you?”

“He’s my husband, and the baby’s father, so of course I am.”

A sad truth washed over Ruth. She’d seen it before. Babies and children meant to save a relationship, only to end up being used as hostages, creating more broken bones, more bruises.

Ruth’s bluntness overtook her. “A baby isn’t magic, Carrie. It won’t make everything okay.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ruth. A baby changes everything.” Carrie rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand marriage yet. You’re a newlywed. You’ll understand when you get more time in.”

Ruth would never see abuse as normal. And if she knew one thing about herself, it was that she was not a bystander. “Come home with me. Let us help you.”

“Ruth, mind your own business. I mean it.” Carrie’s voice held more than a hint of exasperation.

“You’re my friend. You are my business.”

“Then be happy for me. I’m going to be a mother. It’s the answer to my prayers.”