The wonderful thing about long lasting friendships is that they often create strange, but very interesting combinations of people.
In a small group of friends, who have known each other for years, where the need to hide uncomfortable truths or embarrassing facts should no longer be present, where the need to impress and excel at things should no longer be needed, where genuine friendship should allow everyone to be who they really are, the question still remains - do we ever really reach a point where we feel secure enough to show our true selves to anyone, even our closest friends?
What if we could really get to know a group of women; their lives, their secrets and their innermost selves? Would we be able to see if it's our thoughts, our dreams or our flaws that define us? And are we really so different from everyone else? Don't we all just want to have a home where we can feel safe, someone that holds us and speaks of love and something that we can be proud of, that sets us apart?
Meet Sarah, who goes through life spreading happiness with her good cheer and warm-heartedness; who is not afraid to love and love deeply.
And Susan, a strong, self-reliant woman who never lets anyone get too close because people can't hurt you if don't give them the chance.
And beautiful, well-dressed, smiling Rose who wants everyone to be happy and lives what appears to be the perfect life.
And Mary, laughing, all-seeing Mary, who wants to protect the ones she love, but who also wants to keep them away, afraid that she will hurt them if they get too close.
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Yet another night filled with smiles, small talk and general merriment; and just a few hours added to the thousands and thousands spent in pretend happiness. Yet another gathering for the express purpose of letting the rich stroke each other's egos and help fill each other's pockets; and me standing there, just another trophy wife, supporting my husband in his efforts to reach ever higher on the glittering steps of social status and financial gain.
"Hello Rose dear!"
A female voice woke me from my bitter thoughts and I looked up, smiled and greeted the elderly woman in front of me with a cheerful "Hello there" before kissing her cheek, taking her hand and asking about her family; the simple act of greeting an acquaintance as if she was one of my closest friends perfected over the long years of service.
You could always count on me to do and say the right things; I had been taught well. In those first few months, where I still clung to the notion that my thoughts and opinions counted, he had taught me well and often. Well enough to know that it was in my best interest to smile, wave, hug and kiss my way through any number of social gatherings and to never let any of the thoughts spinning in my head show on my face.
To be really honest, most of the years had passed by in a gray mist, where I didn't feel or think anything. And perhaps those were the happy years, at least compared to these last few months where a newly awakened need to get away had started to make my life almost as miserable as those first few months of married life.
I stood there sipping a glass of champagne, smiling to everyone that passed me by, the ever increasing need to scream, rage and cry almost overwhelming me. It had been like this since that one Thursday evening with my friends when Sarah had told us that she longed for someone she could love and Mary had laughed and said "be careful what you wish for". Something had just clicked in my mind right then and there, the calm grayness that surrounded me had started to slip away and I became aware of my own thoughts and feelings again. And I started crying myself to sleep every night and woke up screaming every morning. Very silently of course, because I knew the punishment that followed unwanted bursts of emotion.
How I wished I could be free from this miserable life and brave enough to make it so, I thought as the last tones of the national anthem sent my mind spinning again. The dark thoughts of 'the eternal peace of death' that kept haunting me were quickly swept away. I wanted to live, but a happy life, not this nightmarish existence with days filled with faked happiness and superficial beauty, where my every move was monitored and controlled.
I felt a chill run down my spine and recognizing the feeling of being watched I turned my head slightly to the left, smiled an even wider smile and waved lovingly to my husband; probably fooling everyone at the party, except for him; hopefully adding some positive numbers to the negative ones that almost falling on the way in had most certainly given me in this night's behavior ledger.
I wasn't punished very often these days and I was carefully hoping that his need to go see to his own pleasures - thankfully not so often in my bed nowadays - would make him deliver the needed hard words and accompanying fists quickly.
He tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow indicating he wanted me to come to him. I put my glass away and walked over, always the dutiful wife. I kissed his cheek and purred out a "darling" that could be overheard by everyone who stood close by. Perhaps there was a chance for me to get back on his good side before the night was over.
"Rose," he said "I'd like for you to meet Senator Reynolds."
"Good evening Senator," I said and turned to the stocky, red-faced man standing a few steps away "it's a pleasure to meet you!"
I could feel his eyes trailing across my body and the way my tight dress followed my curves. His face grew just a few shades redder and the speed of his breathing increased. A discreet sign from my husband made me aware that this had been his intention and as I slid closer to the Senator I wondered what this particular person had or could do that my husband needed. I wrapped my arm around the Senator's, laughed at the small jokes he was telling me and forced myself not to shudder as his eyes ran admiringly across my cleavage. I hoped I wouldn't have to go too far in my admiration for him; there's nothing that can make you feel quite like a cheap whore as being... a cheap whore.
- - - - -
I didn't wake up screaming the next morning but just opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling, my whole being filled with a sense of purpose. I had to do something about my life otherwise I'd be stuck doing the same things over and over again for the rest of my life; pleasing and pleasuring my husband and everyone he threw my way until I couldn't take it anymore.
But how do you break free when you don't have any money, when you're almost always under surveillance and when you can't trust anyone, except perhaps your three closest friends; the only real ones you have, who will no longer be your friends after your husband has destroyed them as he has promised he can and will?
I carefully eased myself out of bed, trying not to upset the ribs on my right side that hurt from that single strong blow to them the night before. Still, I was glad that he had only hit me once; you had to appreciate the little things in life.
I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water sooth my body, trying to relax the muscles that were somehow always tense, perhaps waiting for the next degrading task or painful experience. I couldn't really remember what my body had felt like when I was younger, when I ran carelessly across the fields by my grandmother's house in the summers or when I danced the night away as I grew slightly older.
Thinking back only caused me pain, but I let myself walk down memory lane, seeing myself as a girl, then a teenager and then slightly older, on the verge of womanhood. I remembered the way my family had always laughed, hugged and kissed each other, the way my mother and father showed their love for each other every single day and the way I just couldn't wait to find that special love for myself. Naïve, starry-eyed, poor eighteen year old fool that I was; I had been an easy target for the good-looking, rich prince of our town. The way he had been such a gentleman always, the gifts he brought me and the way he said he only had eyes for me had made me fall madly in love with him. When he asked me to marry him I had jumped at the chance, even though my mother had cautioned me to wait a little while longer, to get to know him a little bit better.
I was the envy of everyone as I walked down the aisle and became Mrs. Bannister, the lovely new bride in one of the wealthiest families in the area. I couldn't have been happier and as I waved to my parents after the luxurious wedding party I did it with high hopes and the biggest smile I had ever worn. The honeymoon changed my feelings quite abruptly as I was taught lesson after lesson about myself and the man I had married.
I shied away from the thoughts of the warm days and nights on that miserable tropical island. I could feel the need to throw up rising, as it always did when my thoughts circled too close to those first three weeks of our marriage, and the following week that I spent in a luxurious room at the hospital after having 'fallen down the stairs'. The private hospital where no questions were asked, no reports were written and where the staff members who looked at me with pity in their eyes, soon found themselves without a job. Such were the ways of the very rich.
