When Love Goes Bad Read online

  “Gerry is just old-fashioned,” I protested. Maybe it was true that most old-fashioned men who wanted their wives to concentrate on homemaking didn’t also expect them to work full-time outside the home. Once in a while I wondered about that, but when we had children I was sure Gerry would buckle down and work hard enough to support his family. Until then there was no reason I could not help out.

  Gail shook her head dismissively. “What that man wants is a slave. Don’t kid yourself.”

  “When we have children—”

  Gail wouldn’t even let me finish. I couldn’t understand why she was being so unreasonable today.

  “Gerry isn’t about to let you get pregnant,” she said. “He’s having too good a time to have to take responsibility for a family. He’s not about to give up his extracurricular fun to support a child.”

  “What do you mean ‘extracurricular fun?’”

  For a moment, Gail looked torn. Then she shook her head. “Nothing, honey. I didn’t mean anything. Forget what I said, huh?”

  I looked hard at my sister. I knew her too well to be fooled by her easy smile. She had probably just meant to fling more dirt at Gerry. She would never like him and maybe it was best for me just to let it go. I loved both my husband and my sister. If I was going to be able to keep both in my life maybe I was just going to have to let some things slide.

  That’s why when Gail changed the subject and suggested that we treat ourselves to a movie, I jumped at the chance. At least during the three hours the movie was running I would not hear a bad word against my husband.

  Still, Gail’s words, however exaggerated and unfair, had gotten to me. It was true that Gerry had been a bit more difficult to get along with lately. More days than not he arrived home from work surly and uncommunicative. He found fault with my cooking and housekeeping, with my appearance and sometimes with my very presence in the house. He bristled at my attempts to get him to open up.

  He’d dropped hints that his boss was being unfair to him. “Leaning on me,” was the way he put it. Mr. Whiting had never liked my husband. From the start he had singled him out for extra work and he’d been overly critical of the smallest mistake. Gerry believed that his boss was afraid he’d take his job, and for good reason. Gerry was due for a promotion and if Mr. Whiting was as insecure as my husband said he was, he would naturally feel threatened by Gerry.

  If only Gerry would share his concerns with me. Maybe it was true that I didn’t know these people and there was nothing I could do about the “crap” he had to deal with at work, but I could listen. Surely, having a sympathetic ear would ease the burden.

  But Gerry had difficulty sharing his pain.

  “For Christ’s sake, Grace, lay off me for one second, will you?” He tossed his jacket in the general direction of the closet and flopped in his chair. “If you really want to help me, you’ll get me a beer.”

  After handing him a can of Guinness and a frosted glass, which he ignored, I sat down. “I had a hard day, too, so I know how much work can take out of you.”

  Gerry’s only response was a snort.

  “Like last week. We had this party that was just impossible. They came into the restaurant with an attitude the size of Texas. They expected me to read their minds and then, when the food came—”

  “Can’t you shut up for one damned minute, woman! Christ, to hear you chattering on about your job, anybody would think you did something important. You’re a waitress, for Christ’s sake. A piddling little waitress. How can you compare that to my job at the factory? I have skills at least; real skills that people are willing to pay good money for. Not like you. Anyone can haul food from the kitchen to tables!”

  His words stung. I worked hard, if not harder, than he worked. I worked far more hours and, if truth be told, because he was forever being laid off from his machinist jobs, over the course of a year I brought in more money than he did. But since most of it was in tips, it didn’t look that way on our tax returns.

  I took a deep breath, collected my thoughts and said in a calm, steady voice, “I was only trying to help, honey. I can tell that something has been bothering you lately. I thought it might be something at work. Like any good wife, I only wanted to help.”

  To demonstrate my support, I reached over and took my husband’s hand.

  For some reason, this enraged him.

  “Leave me alone, woman!” He shook my hand off and jumped from the chair. Incensed, he stood over me and glared.

  “Can’t you leave me alone for one damn minute? It’s getting so I hate to come home to my own house these days. You’re always at me. If you’re not mooning at me like some lovesick puppy you’re pawing at me or yapping at me about something or other.”

  He affected a high-pitched voice. “‘Is there anything I can do for you, honey? Is something wrong? Tell me how you feel.’ You’d think a man could relax in his own home without being picked at and picked at until he’s ready to scream.”

  Then he grabbed his jacket and slammed out the door. He never came home that night.

  In the morning, after a completely sleepless night, I headed out the door to work. I had recently taken a second waitressing job in a diner that did an enormous breakfast business. If I didn’t show up the other girls would be short. Besides, what more could I do at home but worry? That I could do well enough wherever I was.

  I checked my home phone for messages as often as I could that morning. Nothing. Finally, shortly before noon, I broke down and called my friend Karen White. Her husband, Bill, worked on the same floor as Gerry. In fact, Bill had gotten Gerry his latest job. I would not call Gerry at work and run the risk of alienating him further. But if Karen could call Bill and in the course of the conversation casually ask him if Gerry was there . . .

  “He’s at work all right, Grace,” Karen said when she called me only a few minutes later. “Bill said he looks pretty rough, but he’s fine.”

  “Oh, thank you so much, Karen. I really appreciate it.” I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

  For a second I listened to silence. Then Karen said, “I don’t mean to pry, but is anything wrong? Is there something I can do?”

  I laughed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Thanks, Karen, but it’s nothing. Just a little misunderstanding. You know how these things are.”

  Silence again.

  “You know, Grace, you can tell me to mind my own business if you want, but I have to say something. You’re a good person and I hate to see you treated like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, Grace. You don’t have to be so loyal. We all know how Gerry treats you. It’s disgraceful.”

  I was stunned. What was she saying? Apparently, she mistook my silence for agreement.

  “I didn’t say anything for the longest time because I figured, who am I to criticize someone else’s marriage? But it’s gone too far.” She took a breath and sighed. “I think you ought to know that Gerry’s been seeing other women. There, I said it. You can tell me to pound sand, but this is something you need to know.”

  “You must be mistaken, Karen.”

  “No, honey, I’ve seen him with my own eyes. I’ve heard the rumors for ages, but in the past couple of weeks I saw him squiring a blonde around town several times.”

  I felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach. Then I realized what was going on.

  “Oh, I know,” I said with relief. “You must have seen Mike! You know how much Gerry’s brother looks like him.”

  “No, Grace, I know Gerry and I know Mike. This was definitely Gerry.” I heard pity in Karen’s voice, but there was no need. Gerry would never cheat on me. To give Karen the benefit of the doubt, I was sure she honestly believed that she had seen Gerry with another woman. She was only trying to help. But she was wrong.

  Why did I ever mention Karen’s mistake to my sister? I suppose I wanted her to laugh at the absurdity of the whole thing with me. Instead, even before the words were out of my mouth
, Gail started in.

  “I’ve heard the rumors, too, Grace, but I didn’t want to hurt you.” She plopped down in Gerry’s chair and signed. “You have no idea how many times I almost told you. What a struggle. I mean, on the one hand, you deserve to know that your husband is messing around; but on the other hand, I knew how much this would hurt you. Boy, am I glad—”

  “Oh, come on, Gail,” I interrupted. “This has to be a mistake. I know you aren’t exactly fond of Gerry, but be fair. He wouldn’t cheat on me.”

  Gail snorted. “Why wouldn’t he cheat? Like that’s so out of character for him? Any man that would hit his wife wouldn’t think twice about cheating on her.”

  I felt my face redden.

  “You know that was a mistake, Gail. He never meant to hit me and he never would have if he hadn’t had too much to drink.” Hot tears wet my cheeks. “Besides, he apologized a hundred times for that.”

  Gail leapt from her chair, coming over to put her arms around me.

  “I know. I’m sorry, honey. I promised myself I would never mention that again, at least as long as he never put a hand on you again.”

  “And he hasn’t!”

  Gail’s gaze was long and hard. “He’d better not. But cheating is not much better.”

  “He is not cheating!”

  She chewed her lower lip, something she only does when she’s really agitated.

  “I guess it’s now or never.” After taking a deep breath, she continued. “I told you I’d heard rumors? Well, you know Mary Ann Welch, that little tramp of a hairdresser who works at Short-Cuts? Well, Danny saw her and Gerry at the movies over in Franklin at the new movie complex.

  “It was about a month ago, and according to Danny, they were all over each other.”

  “Danny never did like Gerry,” I protested.

  “Maybe not, but he wouldn’t make this up. You know that.”

  No, he wouldn’t. I had to admit that. Danny was as honest as a preacher.

  When Gail left I did a great deal of thinking. Deep down, I had to admit that my husband was growing unhappy in our marriage. Lately, we spent less and less time together. Everything I did seemed to irritate him, and when he was home he was increasingly critical.

  Perhaps it was my fault. Before we were married I had always gone to great pains to look my best. My hair, clothes, all of it had to be perfect when I went out with Gerry. And in the early days of our marriage I had made sure to look good for my husband, but recently I had let things slip. I suppose that thousands of other women experience the same thing. I vowed to do something about it.

  That Saturday I had a surprise when he came home from work. I had switched with another waitress so that I could have the evening off. It would mean working a double shift the following week, but so what? My marriage needed this.

  When Gerry walked in the door I greeted him in a gorgeous new negligee that showed my curves to their best advantage. I had decked out the front room with scented candles, dimmed the lights, and prepared a feast of his favorite filet mignon. Champagne was chilling in a silver ice bucket.

  “What the hell is this?” Gerry regarded the room with suspicion, which was understandable, since I hadn’t treated him like this in ages.

  I brushed up against him, handed him a flute of champagne and purred, “I just thought I’d treat my man to a little pampering.”

  Gerry snorted but gulped down the champagne anyway.

  “How much did this swill cost?”

  “The restaurant let me have it for cost.” It was one of our finest champagnes and even at cost had been expensive.

  “And where did you come by that get-up?”

  This was not going at all as I had imagined. Trying to get my husband’s mind off money, I kissed him—the type of long, deep kiss we had not shared in ages.

  He seemed to enjoy that, and what followed, but before midnight he threw back the covers and began to dress.

  “Where are you going, honey?” I asked, my voice still husky from love.

  He didn’t even look at me. “This place smells like a damned flower factory,” he said, indicating the candles. “I’m going out and don’t ask me where. It’s none of your business. Just because I made the mistake of marrying you doesn’t mean you own me.”

  With that, he stormed out of the house.

  I cried for days, which only served to aggravate him more. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. When I waited on him he accused me of smothering him. When I gave him space he demanded my time and attention. And when I tried to talk to him about what was happening to our marriage he threatened to leave me if I didn’t back off. My sister thought that his leaving me would be the best thing that could happen to me but I knew better. In no way would I be able to make it alone. Without my husband I was nothing.

  That’s why, when Gerry mentioned the “Lisa Marie Show,” despite my misgivings, I leapt at the chance.

  “This will give us the chance to work on our marriage,” I said. “That’s what you said, right?”

  “Sure, “Gerry answered. “Whatever.”

  Like most men, Gerry was not comfortable talking about feelings. Strange as it seemed for someone averse to admitting to his feelings to agree to talk about them on national television, I knew that it happened. How many times had I marveled at people who could go on talk shows and reveal things they hadn’t been able to bring themselves to discuss behind closed doors? Besides, I knew that Gerry had not been himself for a long time. He did not want to treat me like he’d been treating me. Now was our chance to change things.

  “Gerry said that the topic of the show was ‘couples needing to work on their marriages?’” Gail gave me that skeptical look that always made me feel childish and stupid.

  “Yes. It’s one of the shows where they bring in professional counselors to help couples get their marriages back on track.” I said this with an assurance I did not exactly feel.

  A month later, Gerry and I flew out to Los Angeles for the taping.

  Though the memory of the show itself is seared into my brain, I remember little of the immediate aftermath. I do know that after fainting I was taken to a hospital where I was diagnosed as being in shock. I was even admitted overnight. Can you imagine?

  I’m told that all the signs that Gerry was unhappy with our marriage, that he was cheating on me, even that he was every bit the kind of man who would humiliate me on national television, were there. Yet I never saw them. Maybe that’s why I was so shocked, shocked enough to require medication and hospitalization when I did find out.

  Gail flew to my side immediately. Doing her best not to say, “I told you so,” she gently guided me through the next few days. Not only did I have to deal with losing my husband, but also with the public humiliation of the way it happened. I was so mortified that I spent a week at Gail’s house, calling in sick from work.

  “Honey, you’re going to have to return to the world sometime,” Gail said as she helped me into my coat and packed me into her car.

  It was two weeks after the show, and by now everyone in the world it seemed had either seen the show or heard about it.

  “I can’t face people,” I protested.

  “Gerry is the one who should be ashamed. You have nothing to feel embarrassed about, except for the fact that you married a jerk.”

  It was true that nearly everyone in town sided with me. Gerry is a womanizing idiot who’s lived off of his wife for his entire marriage, the general consensus went. It was high time he was forced to make it on his own. Still, it’s not much easier to be the object of pity any more than to be the object of shame.

  “Everyone must think I’m the biggest fool on earth,” I said as I slumped down in the car.

  Gail shrugged. “What does it matter? You made a mistake in choosing Gerry. It was a well-meaning mistake. Everything else stems from that. You thought you could change him, make him a better man. But he’s rotten to the core.”

  “But why did he change?” I wailed.


  “He didn’t,” Gail said. “That’s why we’re going where we’re going.”

  Our destination proved to be a therapist’s office. At first I protested. There was nothing wrong with me other than the fact that I was an idiot, a blind idiot, and I doubted that the world’s best therapist could do anything about that.

  But I was wrong. With persistence and with the right support and help it is possible for a woman to stop being a doormat, to come to love herself enough not to settle for a man like Gerry. But it probably is not possible for a self-absorbed man—one who cares little for hurting people or for any of the consequences of his actions—to change. When I learned that, and when I finally accepted that changing Gerry was not and had never been my place or my problem, I began to change myself.

  Instead of slaving away at two jobs to support a man who didn’t deserve me, I kept the jobs, saving the money that Gerry used to drink away for my future. I had always wanted to go to college but felt that I was not bright enough. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, my father had told me when he was drunk, and I had bought into that lie. Less than a year after the divorce I started college. When this sow’s ear graduates at the end of next semester, it will be with honors.

  Waitressing, the job that Gerry always looked down on, was perfect for school, allowing me the flexibility of working around my schedule. Even being a celebrity of sorts has helped. Everyone in town, it seemed, wanted to see me make good. If their disapproval had driven Gerry and his new woman to leave town, their support of me took the form of the highest tips I had ever seen, most of which went to pay for school.

  No longer do I walk in the shadow of a man I would never be able to please and who was never good enough for me, anyway. That liberation has allowed me to fly.

  I have already accepted a job as a staff accountant at a large company. They pay good money, which will increase when I pick up my degree. It is interesting work and, best of all, they respect me for my abilities, my work ethic, and for myself.

  I hear that Gerry and Crystal split up after less than a year. Crystal ended up filing domestic abuse charges against him. It’s hard to feel sympathy for a woman who stole your husband and was part of humiliating you on national television, but I do hope that she gets her life together now that she’s away from Gerry’s pernicious influence. Gerry, I fear, is a lost cause. I don’t think he’s worked a day since the show. His drinking has become debilitating, and without someone to care for him he looks years older than his true age.