Page 25 of Iron Will
She swallows, her eyes darting around the room before coming to rest on me. She looks stricken.
“That happened the night before the accident,” she half-whispers. “We fought about it, and I put him out of the house — out of the motel room where we’re staying, I mean. He was gone all night. He must have come back the next afternoon, though. Paisley told me he was there when she got home from school.”
“I see.”
Bethany pleads with me now. “I swear, he’s never done anything like that before. Mickey doesn’t really like kids, like I said. And I know sometimes Paisley gets on his nerves. But he’s never hurt her before that. I swear to God he hasn’t!”
Her voice rises as she talks. I look down at her hands, which are clenched tightly together. The skin of her fingers is white.
“Please,” she repeats, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I would never let him hurt my baby. Please believe me!”
I swallow. “I know you wouldn’t. But the fact is, hedid.” I pause. “And in my experience, it’s not likely to be the last time.”
She looks away.
“Bethany,” I murmur. “Under the circumstances, do you think that maybe the bikers outside Paisley’s door have it right? That maybe it might be better to tell the hospital Mickey shouldn’t have visitor’s rights to her?”
She looks back at me and shakes her head. “If he can’t come in here, he’s not gonna let me come either.”
As kindly as I can, I say, “You know you don’t need his permission, right?”
“I know… It’s just… he gets mad, and when he gets like that it isn’t worth going against him.” Bethany’s voice cracks. “I’m sure you think I’m being stupid and weak. I know he’s… that he’s not the best guy. But sometimes it’s so hard to be alone, you know?” She takes another rough swipe at her eyes. “I don’t have money. I don’t have a college degree, like you do. I just… Sometimes you just don’t have the strength to do it all alone. But you’ve stopped believing someone good will ever come along. So you settle for goodenough.”
Her words bring me up short.
“I know,” I say, nodding quietly. “I’m sure you don’t believe me. But I understand.”
I’m sure she thinks I’m judging her right now. That I couldn’t possibly know what it’s like to be her.
And she’s right, I don’t. Not exactly.
But I’ve seen the way my mom has always danced around my father’s moods. How much she’s put up with, for the status of being a prominent politician’s wife. How much she’s erased herself.
As I sit and look at Bethany, I think of the last time I saw my mother in person. It was last Christmas. Against my better judgment, I went home for their annual big deal holiday party. As usual, it was a grandiose affair, with all the prominent bigwigs of Louisville in attendance. It’s the kind of event that gets written up in the society pages of the paper.
The house looked beautiful, as always, professionally decorated inside and out. My father, handsome as ever, was king of his domain, greeting and glad-handing the guests all night long. My mother looked beautiful as well, with her always-perfect silver bob, flawless makeup, and a sequined dress that cost more than my monthly rent. And as always, she sparkled as Senator Hart’s wife, smiling and laughing as she held her champagne flute and stood by my his side, beaming up at him as he proposed a toast to old friends and new.
But my strongest memory of that night isn’t the party itself. It’s how all evening long, I knew my mother’s makeup — so carefully applied by her in the privacy of her dressing room — was extra thick to hide the bruise that was forming along her jaw.
The bruise given to her by my father that afternoon, when she told him there had been a mixup with the caterers and they wouldn’t be arriving until fifteen minutes after the party was scheduled to begin.
I’ve seen how much my mother has sacrificed of herself. How hard she’s worked to settle for what she thinks isgood enough.
And I’m afraid I’m about to watch my sister do the same thing when she marries Nick Harris.
Unlike Bethany, at least my mother and sister have the advantage of financial security. They have a life that looks to the outside world like the ultimate dream of happiness and success. I guess that’s enough for them to convince themselves it’s all worth it.
Butisit enough? Is it really worth it?
From the outside, most people would say my mother and sister have it made.
From the outside, most people wouldn’t see any similarities at all between them and the desperate, lonely woman sitting across from me right now.
But I sure do.
And what I see in front of me is a woman who needs help. And a woman whose daughter will learn her lessons about relationships from watching her mother. Just like I learned from watching my parents.
Suddenly, I want to do everything I can to make sure that the lessons Paisley learns are the right ones.