Susan glanced at the clock, one thirty in the morning.  Where in the hell was Max?  He was supposed to be home at six o’clock for dinner, and she hadn’t heard from him.  She needed money for baby formula and a few groceries, but he had all the money they possessed.  As she rocked little Max, her lips moved slightly as she silently prayed that he didn’t spend it all on beer.  She’d called all his favorite bars, but no one would admit to having seen him.  She knew they were lying and she hated it.

            She laid the baby in his crib and covered him lightly with a blanket.  Backing quietly out of the room, she headed for the kitchen to survey the cold food sitting on the stove.  She thought seriously about throwing it out, but didn’t dare for fear of a beating.  Susan was furious on the inside, but refused to let her emotions surface because that’s what kept getting her black eyes.  She’d finally learned to keep all her emotions hidden.  It didn’t matter if it was happiness, sadness, anger, or depression; she’d had to learn to hide them all for fear of making Max angry.  Now it was second nature to her to be bland, noncommittal.

            She slipped off her slippers and crawled beneath the covers.  She’d waited up as long as she could, but she was tired and needed to sleep.  She hoped that tonight he wouldn’t mind that she’d gone to bed without him, but it was just a toss up on that.  If she went to bed before he got home, he’d get mad and accuse her of being mad at him.  If she waited up, he’d accuse her of spying on him.  There was no good way to handle bedtime around here.

            Susan came awake with a start.  She lay quietly without moving, and pretended to be asleep.  She didn’t want to attract attention to herself because she didn’t feel like fighting tonight.  She felt Max slide into bed beside her, and he reeked of beer and perfume.  Now she was furious, and it took all her self-control to remain still without shaking.  She hated when he came home smelling like one of those barflies.  He always spent whatever money he had buying rounds of beer for everyone just to impress them. 

            He had the morals of an alley cat, and he disgusted her.  She hated when he touched her; all she could think of were the many floozies he’d bedded, and it made her physically ill. 

            Max reached across the bed and pulled her to him.  Still she feigned sleep.  “Hey.”  Max’s voice was thick from the alcohol.  “Hey.  I’m talkin’ to you.  You asleep?”

            “Mmmph.” Susan mumbled without opening her eyes.

            Max grabbed her shoulder tightly and shook her, asking loudly, “Hey!  You asleep?  I’m hungry!”

            “I left you a plate in the oven,” Susan mumbled, still trying to pretend she was half-asleep.

            With much grunting and groaning, Max rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen.  Susan could hear him stumbling around, but there was no way in hell she was going in there with him.  That would just be asking for a fight.  She could hear as he finally put his plate in the sink and made his way back to bed.  She stilled her breathing and relaxed her eyelids so she would appear to be sleeping.  Max flopped down on the bed, grabbed the covers, and rolled onto his side to sleep.  Susan lay quietly until she heard his breathing slow and become shallow in sleep, and then she was able to relax and sleep.

 

            The alarm rang and Susan rolled out of bed to pack Max’s lunch and fix his breakfast.  He was in a bad mood.  She could hear the slam of the bathroom door and then the door of the medicine cabinet slammed, too.  About fifteen minutes later Max pulled out a chair and sat down just as she placed his plate on the table.  She avoided looking at him or speaking to him.  Instead, she waited for him to speak first, but Max sat sullenly eating his breakfast, ignoring Susan, too. 

            As soon as he finished, he grabbed his lunchbox from the counter and headed for the door.  “Bye…..love you,” Susan called after him.  Max just slammed the door behind him and left for work.  Quietly, Susan breathed a quiet sigh of relief.  He was gone, there hadn’t been a fight, and she hadn’t had to talk to him.  There was still one more thing to do.

            Going into the bathroom, Susan reached into the laundry hamper and pulled out the shirt Max had been wearing yesterday.  She could still smell perfume on it.  She held it up in the light and looked at it.  Yep, there was makeup smeared on the shoulder and collar.  That seemed to be all.  She couldn’t see anything else, but that was enough to tell her what he’d been up to last night.  As if she needed anything to tell her what she already knew.

            She threw the shirt back in the hamper and went to pick up little Max, who was crying for his bottle.  Oh, crap! I forgot to ask him for money.  Susan was mad at herself for forgetting about the formula.  Well……she’d have to borrow a few dollars from Amy until she could get some grocery money from Max.  She didn’t have much choice.  Damn!  She hated her life!  She hated Max!  She hated being tied down and broke all the time!  She hated having to put on a front for everyone else to avoid admitting her life was screwed up!  Most of all she hated herself for being too weak to tell her mother she wasn’t interested in getting married, too weak to refuse Max’s proposal, and too weak to pack her bags and leave!  Yes, there was a lot of hatred and revulsion building up inside her, and if something didn’t happen soon, she would probably kill herself or Max.  The time was fast approaching, and she was helpless to stop it.  Damn, she hated being weak!