Darling He is Not

I braced myself for the inevitable argument that was about to ensue. He burst through the door and before it had even closed, he was screaming at me. I was having a hard time sitting up, I felt so weak but if I didn't look like I was listening, I got into more trouble. Luckily, my adrenaline kicked in and I was able to focus.

I sat still on the couch as he lit into me. He was accusing me of flirting with Mark. I kept denying it. The whole thing was in his head.

"I saw you do it in front of my own two eyes!"

"I wasn't, I swear!" I whimpered. I knew it may end things earlier if I just lied and said I was doing what he accused me of. I'd have to endure more verbal abuse but perhaps he'd leave me alone and go back to work sooner. But what would happen to Mark if I admitted it?

"Just say it!" Bram screamed at me.

There was a wild look in his green eyes that I had seen milder shades of, but nothing this bad. He wanted me to contend with the darkness he was feeling, which was completely unfair as usual. And I was terrified. But that didn't matter because right now, he was going to make me feel like I was two inches tall, and I had to be obedient.

"We're married and you can't keep your eyes and hands off other men. Who knows what you're doing here when I'm not around?" He had his hands on either side of my shoulders against the couch boxing me in.

"Bram, besides the fact that I would never cheat, you have cameras here. Why can't you just believe me?"

"Believe that you're with me? Because you aren't. You don't want this."

"And you do?" I asked. He paused.

"No, I don't."

"Why does it have to be this way, Bram? Day after day this is our reprehensible existence. Why can't we do better?"

"You're in a beautiful home on an Army base, something I know you have wanted all your life. You get plenty out of it."

"You missed the point when I said the Army was important to me."

He glared at me.

"You'll never be satisfied no matter what I do," he complained.

"There is so much more you could do," I said with a forceful exhalation.

"Like what?" he asked. When I wouldn't answer, he smirked. "You liked it on our honeymoon, didn't you? I made your body—"

"Stop it," I begged in a whisper, cutting him off.

He stepped back from me and pulled off his hat. He ran his fingers through his thick raven-black mohawk-styled hair.

Though that wasn't what I was referring to he was right. The night of our contractual honeymoon we had been intimate. I was surprised how good he made me feel despite us being strangers. But according to the contract, we weren't allowed to have sex again.

Not that I wanted to when he was mean, which was most days. I stared at the floor but then realized I had to get some calories. I was feeling waves of nausea hitting and I wasn't going to be able to continue this conversation until I had sustenance.

"What are you doing?" he asked as I stood up. I ignored him. No amount of fear could prevent me from my basic need to survive. I opened the refrigerator and grabbed some garlic bread. I turned to him and stuffed a massive piece in my mouth.

I turned and said, "Have you figured it out, yet?" It was a Rosa trait to sarcastically taunt others.

Even though Dad was a f*ck up, he wasn't a lost cause. The man could charm anyone into believing he was leaps and bounds above his true station in life. He also didn't back down when people bullied him, which apparently, I was channeling right now.

Bram marched over to me assuming a military stance and began shouting, pointing into my face. I was chewing happily until I began to feel faint. The stress combined with my lack of nutrition took its toll. I watched as the world faded out and then nothing.

When I woke, Bram was crouched down over me. I thought I could see genuine concern on his face but that abruptly changed once he noticed I had come to. I sat up, propping myself against the kitchen island. I expected him to continue his tirade but instead he stood, filled a glass with water from the refrigerator and handed it to me.

"Next time, drink more, idiot. You know better." I was still getting my bearings but that didn't mean he didn't strike a nerve by saying that. I took the glass of water and pounded it. He took it back from me and put it in the sink. "When you're feeling better, I expect that to be cleaned up, along with the rest of the place. It's a pig pen."

I didn't know if he said these things because he believed them or if he wanted to convince me they were true. I had gotten a compliment from him once, so I kept going in hopes for another bit of praise. There was no way in hell this place was messy, though. I cleaned it obsessively, every single day.

I watched him disappear into the bathroom. After the water was turned on, I heard him jump in the shower. I wasn't ready to stand up yet but little by little, I was improving. I scanned the room wondering what he had seen that made him think the place was cluttered.

At my lower vantage point, I noticed a yellow sticky note under the refrigerator. It was surprising to see it because I knew for a fact it wasn't there yesterday. The place was spotless.

Instead of trying to stand, I crawled over to the massive stainless-steel refrigerator and thrust my small hand into the crevice. The metal grate jiggled as I reached farther. Once I had my index and middle finger barely connected on the edge of stickie, I managed to pull it out. I went back to the island hoping the shower water had drowned out any sounds.

I could see that there were words in black ink on the neon yellow sticky. Without needing to see more than a scrunched "r" and y", I could tell it was Bram's handwriting. Just as I was about to open it, I thought better of it and put it in my pocket. I'd have to wait until he was gone to look.

When he came out of the bathroom after showering, he had a towel around his waist, his onyx hair dripping and his perfectly etched stomach on display. He speedily ascended the stairs to our second-floor loft bedroom. I could hear the bureau drawers opening smoothly, though quickly, along their greased metal tracks.

As he came back down, I watched him as he walked back and forth through the house. He was in search of something. When he crouched down in front of the refrigerator, my stomach was in knots. If he asked me about the note, I wasn't sure if I could lie well enough to convince him I hadn't seen it.

Whatever this was, it was important to him. I prayed he would leave soon so I could find out. What could it be that had him this obsessed? Probably a love note from another woman.

Not that Bram was like that, as far as I knew. Our marriage wasn't built on love, but he wasn't an adulterer. I admired that part of him. The discipline in the military spread to every other part of his life.

Except for eating, of course, but that didn't matter. His body had barely any fat, and he had worked hard to get himself into incredible shape. Sometimes, I felt dirty looking at him even in his clothes. I could see the muscles that one should only be able to see while naked.

When I was finally feeling better, I rose to my feet, making sure to mash the paper down in my pocket flatly enough that he wouldn't notice. I walked over to the living room as he continued his hunt. I couldn't believe he wasn't asking me about it. Maybe it was luck.

He shoved his hands behind the couch cushions, then took them all off and threw them. In the process he nearly tipped our glass coffee table over. When he was done, he snapped his fingers at me and pointed to the cushions. I picked them up and set them all back in place.

Abruptly, someone knocked on the door. I stood planning to go upstairs away from him, but he pointed to me and snapped yet again, telling me to sit. I did as I was told. How would Bram behave with a visitor?