TAKEN HOSTAGE
In part two of Melanie's Story we learn more about her marriage to Jeff and his rapid descent into alcoholic madness. When Sigrid moves in next door she finds herself involved with her sisters, first Agnetha, who pushes her towards Alanon and then Elke, an exciting, vivacious younger woman who reminds her so much of Mandy but without the immaturity of youth. The two are drawing closer together but neither woman has openly admitted to any feelings. Nevertheless, there are forces at work that will drive them together far sooner than they thought possible.
Writer's note: This has been posted in Lesbian Sex because it is part of a series that belongs in this category, there is no lesbian sex in this particular story.
*
Taken hostage sounds like a dramatic title but I'm merely repeating how recovering alcoholics describe their marriages. It's honesty at its most brutal and it describes the next eight years perfectly because while I married a man, he took me hostage to his fears, doubts, ego and that constant see-saw of emotional blackmail.
Jeff never set out to get drunk, he always set out to have a couple of beers and then a couple more beers until he was flying high, then he'd crash and I'd be the one putting him back together. The partners of alcoholics are the best enablers, we enable them to keep pouring more of this poison into their system. He used to do and say the most hurtful things when he was drunk and then he'd be apologising the next morning, promising never to do it again, but then he'd come up with his 'yeah but.' I came to hate those words, 'yeah but,' because it meant he was going to turn an apology into an inquisition against the one he'd just hurt.
Jeff only ever hit me once in eight years of marriage and that was in the last week of his life but I don't consider myself fortunate because of that. There is a part of me that wishes he had hit me much earlier, because my survival instinct would have kicked in and forced me to escape the asylum. The physical wounds heal but the emotional scars last a lifetime.
It never started like that of course, for the first year I believe we were happy, or as happy as was possible under the circumstances. Jeff had his own small building business, he employed two guys at the time. We lived in a rented house in Ringwood and I fell pregnant after three months but miscarried three months later after we moved into our new house in Olinda. I tripped over some tools he'd left lying around and fell heavily, I knew something was wrong right away but Jeff was off to buy another gun. By the time he got back I'd phoned the ambulance and was lying on a hospital bed being told there was no chance to save the baby.
That incident actually brought us closer together for a while but later on he'd throw that back at me if he really wanted to stick the knife in because he knew I blamed myself for the fall. We conceived again six months later and James was born in 1991. I looked into his eyes and saw his father, Jeff was as proud as punch, so proud that he shouted the whole bar drinks. A few nights after I got home he wet the baby's head with beer and asked his best mate, Gus to be the godfather, which took me by surprise because we'd never even discussed that yet.
James changed everything for both of us. I was now a mother and had a responsibility to this tiny little boy, and that meant less time for Jeff. Now most men would accept that and take their part in raising the child but Jeff saw that I had become distant. I hadn't become distant, I was busy being a mum and babies require extra work, trust me!
When I went back to work after six months Jeff hit the roof. Prior to that he'd been supportive of my career as a bank manager, he used to boast he was married to the bank manager but after James was born he seemed to think I'd throw my career away and just get on with being a mum. When I sat him down and explained we had to both work if we wanted to keep paying the mortgage he took it as a personal affront. He was the bread winner, didn't I trust him to bring home the bacon?
I got my own way only by standing my ground and that was where my eyes were opened. I saw that behind the lovable larrikin lurked a chauvinist. A lot of people think the Crocodile Dundee types are heroic but that character was always a grand parody of the larrikin, an Australian word for 'one of the boys.' After I won that argument I became the witch, he'd use that word as a joke at first but then it got serious.
Common sense would say I should have left him then and there but I was very much like mum, I could put up with intolerable situations simply because I wouldn't give in. call it pride, the need for security or something else, but I stuck it out because I meant to honour my vows. He sensed my weakness and played on it, oh he played me like a fiddle and when he finally admitted I'd done the right thing by going back to work I thought I'd won that round. Little did I know this was only the first round of a fifteen round winner takes all knockout fight.
The twins were born in 1993, Alison and Beckie, and I took nother six months off on maternity leave and when I got back to work I was transferred to Boronia and it was there I met Louise Barnes. She should have been manager but quite pointedly said she didn't want that crap in her life, but she was more than willing to support me.
I came to rely on Louise for a lot of things because there were times I'd come into work with my head in a mess over some fight I'd had with Jeff, trouble with the kids or something else. If Louise was sitting at her terminal or a desk I'd feel the weight shift because I knew that whatever happened that day I'd be able to get through it. Louise has always been one of those quiet types. There are those who make a big song and dance whenever they manage to do the job they were supposed to do all along, and then there are those who just get on with the job without all the fuss. I once said to mum that I could ask her to travel with me to Mordor to throw a ring into a lake of fire and she'd just say, "no worries, I'll just get my coat and handbag."
Nevertheless, despite the fact I trusted her implicitly, she never knew the truth about Jeff and I, for that matter neither did any of my other friends. The reason I never told my friends about Jeff's antics was not because I didn't trust them, God knows I wanted to spill the beans so badly, but you dare not air an alcoholic's dirty laundry even if your intentions are honourable.
This code of silence even extended to my immediate family, my parents, two sisters, my brother and their families. The stupid thing was, they knew all along but such is the insanity of the alcoholic that Jeff thought he was invisible, I've heard that statement a few times from A.A members over the years.
'I thought I was invisible, I was the last person to discover I was an alcoholic.'
Theresa was quietly supportive, Matthew on more than one occasion offered to have him bashed and considering Matthew is a social worker that's really saying something. Susan was the most vocal, it's her age and being the baby of the family she could get away with more. I recall one time at an Anzac day barbecue she introduced her boyfriend to Jeff and referred to him as Pisspot Jeff, which got a laugh from Theresa and a scowl from Jeff. After that he made a determined attempt to isolate me from my family, claiming it was part of some weird conspiracy. However all his feeble attempts had the opposite effect and caused me to stay closer to my family. This in turn just led to more fights and he even threatened to leave two or three times.
How I managed to hold it together for eight years is a testament to courage or rank stupidity, and either conclusion would be right. On the outside I was the successful bank manager, smiling on the outside, supportive of my colleagues to the point of letting some of them walk all over me. On the inside I was dangling from a cross of iron and my tormentor would occasionally let me down from my cross whenever he needed comforting. When his business nearly went bankrupt I loaned him money to pay off his debts, I would come home and after seeing to the children, I'd go through his books and try to reconcile them.
When I eventually told him to stop doing back yarders for mates he told me I was full of shit.
"What's a man without mates? That's the problem with you bank managers, you're like vampires bleeding a man dry."
It was a slap in the face and the next morning at work I nearly broke down in front of Louise but once again my pride got in the way. A week later I was diagnosed with depression, and prescribed antidepressants. Alcoholism was never mentioned and indeed that word never came up in our house. One golden rule partners of alcoholics learn is to never refer to the partner as an alcoholic or even suggest they have a drinking problem.
I should have become a pill popper, struggling to maintain the balance, the pills certainly helped me cope with day to day tasks but then in 1997, Sigrid moved in next door and my life turned around. And speaking of Sigrid, she and Louise are coming around with the girls for dinner so I'd better drag myself away from the computer and get cooking.
***
Well that was a pleasant night! Sigrid and Louise both read my first chapter and this draft and were impressed. Louise thinks I've got talent as a writer! But Sigrid did refresh my memory as well, which is good now that I'm getting to her part in my story.
Sigrid's arrival in Olinda coincided with one of the lowest points of my married life. It was the month I discovered Jeff had done another back yarder for a customer. Belinda was a thirty three year old single mother who'd gone to school with Jeff. He quite candidly admitted that if he hadn't married me, he would have married her.
"Or at least rooted her."
I exploded. We were both outside and he was unloading his ute.
"So why don't you fuck her," I screamed at him.
"Maybe I will fuck her, at least she won't fucking bleed me dry."
I opened my mouth to say something and then I saw Sigrid standing not twenty feet away. She was wearing her Westpac uniform, I'd seen her that weekend when she was moving in but hadn't said anything to her yet. She had a bottle of wine in one hand and a hamper in the other hand. Jeff saw her then and his mouth just dropped. Sigrid even in uniform was beautiful, he ran a hand through his hair and smiled.
"G'day."
"Is this a bad time?" Sigrid looked at me.
"No, not at all, we're just clearing the plumbing," he shot me a half smile, "I'm Jeff and this is my missus, Melanie."
