Journey

“You can say you came to lend me support. Maddy, my sister went through this. She attempted suicide twice before she figured out what was happening to her. I went with her too. It was like a replay of Gaslight, and she had four kids with him.”

“What happened to her?”

“She divorced him, and she's married to someone terrific now, but it took three years of therapy to get her there. She thought that just because he didn't beat the shit out of her like my dad did to our mom, that he was a hero. Not all forms of abuse leave bruises.” She knew that, but part of her still wanted to believe that what Jack did was different. She didn't want to feel like a victim, or that Jack was an abuser.

“I think you're crazy, but I love you. What are you going to do now, Greg?” She was worried about him, and she was trying not to think about what he'd said about Jack. It was just too threatening to her. She had already started trying to convince herself that Jack wasn't really abusive. Greg was upset and confused, she told herself.

“I'll be doing sports on NBC. They made me a great offer and I start in two weeks. Do you know who they have for you yet?”

“Brad Newbury,” she said, sounding depressed about it. She was going to miss Greg more than she could tell him. And maybe it would be worth going to an abuse group with him, just so she could see him. She was sure that Jack wasn't going to let her socialize with him. He'd find a way to cut Greg out of her life completely “for her own good,” and make it impossible for her to see him. She knew that much about her husband.

“The guy from CNN?” Greg said in disbelief when she mentioned Brad's name. “You've got to be kidding. He's awful.”

“I think our ratings are going to go straight down the tubes without you.”

“No, they won't. They've got you. It'll be okay, kid. Just think about what I said. That's all I want you to do. Think about it.” Doing the news with Brad was the least of her problems.

“I will,” she said, but without much conviction. And for the rest of the morning, every time she thought about Greg she felt anxious. The things he had said to her had touched a nerve somewhere, and she was doing everything she could to deny them. When Jack said he “owned” her, all he meant was that he loved her with a passion. But now that she thought about it, even their lovemaking had an odd quality to it, especially lately. He had hurt her more than once, and in Paris pretty badly. It had taken a week for her nipple to heal, and when he made love to her on the marble floor at Claridge's, he had hurt her back and she could still feel it. But that hadn't been intentional, he was just insatiable and highly sexed, and he thought her desirable. And he didn't like making plans. How abusive was it to take her to Paris, to stay at the Ritz, even without much notice? And he had bought her a bracelet at Cartier and a ring at Graff's. Greg was crazy, and probably just upset that he'd been fired, which was understandable. And the craziest thing of all was comparing Jack to Bobby Joe. They had absolutely nothing in common, and Jack had saved her from him. But the one thing she couldn't figure out was why she felt sick every time she thought about the things Greg had said to her. He had made her incredibly nervous. But just thinking about abuse did that to her.

She was still haunted by Greg's words when she went to the First Lady's commission on Monday and sat next to Bill Alexander. He had a tan, and said he'd visited his son again in Vermont since they last met, and his daughter in Martha's Vineyard, over the weekend.

“How's the book coming?” she whispered, as the meeting began.

“Slowly, but well,” he smiled at her, admiring her, as everyone did. She was wearing a blue cotton man's shirt, and white linen slacks, and she looked summery and pretty.

The First Lady had invited a guest speaker to come and speak to them about abuse. Her name was Eugenia Flowers. She was a psychiatrist who specialized in victims of abuse, and a supporter of numerous women's causes. Maddy had heard of her, but never met her. Dr. Flowers went around the room, talking to each of them from where she sat. She was personable and warm and looked like a grandmother, but her eyes were sharp, and she seemed to know exactly what to say to everyone. She asked questions of each of them about what they thought abusive behavior was, and most of them said pretty much the same thing, that it meant hitting or beating or battering the victim.