Disconnect

By Cyndy Martin

                “It’s about frickin’ time!” spat Kurt. “Take the brat.  She’s driving me nuts with all her pissing and moaning tonight.”

                “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” whispered Ann as she dropped her briefcase and kicked off her pumps in their small entry hall.  “Come to Mama sweetie,” she said as she lifted the crying baby from the high chair in their kitchen.

                “Why the hell can’t you get home on time?  Just leave at 5 o’clock.  You’re the damn boss, just get up and go!  I’m so sick of this.” He tossed pans around the steel drawer below the oven, creating a violent storm of crashing metal.

                “You know how it is. The higher I get, the more face time I need to put in.”

                “Oh, rub that in my face again,” he challenged, flinging the back of his hand in her direction.

                “That’s not what I meant.  I’m sorry.  I was only talking about me.  I’m sure you’ll get into management soon.”  Ann rocked the baby gently on her hip.  “Can I help you?  I’ll make dinner tonight.  You want to just take it easy?”

                “Don’t cook, you’ll poison me!” he said with disgust.  “Maybe if you’d open a can of soup I could trust that.  Forget it.”

Ann rushed down the hall into the baby’s room to escape him, her face flushed with anger.  After five years of marriage, she thought she should know when to expect his outbursts.  But she didn’t.  They blindsided her again and again as she held out hope for calm and happiness.  Once in the room she held the baby tightly against her cheek as tears came slowly, silently.  She rocked the baby a long while until her tears subsided.  Then she forced him out of her mind and concentrated on being cheerful with her daughter. 

                “Ah, that’s better!” Ann smiled as she changed the baby’s diaper.  “And how was your day, little miss?  What a nice big smile you have for me.”  She continued to talk gently to the burbling little girl as she rocked her in the rocker covered with a fuzzy pink and white blanket.  Ann picked up the Picasso book her sister had given them.  Aunt Sue wanted the baby to learn the arts early.

                “Look at this funny one!  The man’s face is all wrong!”  Ann kissed the top of her daughter’s head as the baby gently patted the colorful pages with her sausage fingers.

                “This one is supposed to be a lady.  Can you believe it?  It’s called Nude Woman.”   It sure as heck looks like a jumble of lines and cubes to me.  I can’t see a woman in all that chaos!

“I guess we have to go back out there eventually.  Do you think he’s still grumpy?  When isn’t he?”

                At dinner, Ann told Kurt about meeting his office mate.

“Your friend Kristen was in for her interview today.  She’s great.  I’m so glad you recommended her.  I’d love to hire her.  Unfortunately I had to cut it short; I had a presentation to the Board of Directors today.”

“Yeah.  She called me already and told me about it.  She said she liked the company and something about how bright you are,” he mocked, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head.

“She said that?  How nice.”

“She didn’t really mean it.  Get real.”

The rest of the evening was spent in tense silence.  Several times Ann thought of something nice to talk about, but as soon as she turned toward him she saw his face was a mass of tight wrinkles and his eyes seethed hatred.  She realized he intended to prolong his anger as if it were his salvation.  He’ll just bite my head off.  I need to lay low and hope he doesn’t blow up at me.

                The next morning Ann got up first.  The alarm clock radio was set to zero volume, and it was just the smallest click that woke her up.  She tip toed to the bedroom door and turned the knob very slowly, willing it not to squeak.  Shivering in her thin silky gown, her fingers white with cold, she turned to carefully close the door with no more than a soft thump as the door made contact with the frame.  Before going into the hall bath for her shower, she tipped her head into the baby’s room and saw her sleeping chubby face, mouth agape, between the glossy white slats of the crib.  Ann’s unconscious smile made her shoulders relax and slide down her back.  Then she locked the bathroom door and took a very hot shower.

                Once out, Ann carefully laid a towel flat across the counter top.  Onto the towel went her toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, can of mousse, moisturizer and make-up.  Each movement to pick up or put down an item was very deliberate.  She wiped a circle of steam off the mirror with a dry washcloth and looked at herself through the insistent droplets of water clinging to the glass.  What am I doing?  This is a crazy way to live.  I keep expecting him to have a good day again, but he never does.  Occasionally she stopped and put her ear near the door to see if he was moving around.   “Oh shit!”  She dropped the can of mousse onto the tile floor.  Her hands instinctively went to cover her face while the muscles across the back of her shoulders cinched up, her elbows tucked in, even her thighs tensed up.  She squeezed her eyes tight, held her breath and listened.  No I don’t think he heard that.  I’m ok.

                After spending a half hour reading and playing with her daughter at the daycare center, she was happy to be back at work by 8 o’clock.  There, she shut out as much of her husband as she could.  She smiled as she stirred her coffee and wished a good morning to the other people in the break room. 

                “Hey Richard,” she cheered as her manager walked into the break room. “ I have those reports for you.  I’ll bring them to you in a few minutes.”

                “Great, Ann. I got those 49er tickets I told you about, so you and Kurt need to join us at the game Sunday.  No excuses this time!” Her boss nudged her arm with the corner of his briefcase and dashed out of the break room.

                In his office, with reports in hand, she uncharacteristically dropped her focus to a spot on the floor and told Richard, “I don’t think I can get a sitter this weekend.  You should invite someone else to the game.”

                “No.  Bring the baby.  I want to meet this husband of yours.  I’m beginning to think he doesn’t exist!” he teased.

                I wish he didn’t exist.  Now what do I do? “Well…”

                “Well what?  Is there a problem?  Sit down.  What’s up with you all of a sudden?”  Richard was a concerned friend as well as her manager.  During the year or so they worked together, they often talked about their kids and kept tabs on each other’s outside interests; his marathon running and her home improvement projects.  They talked about his wife sometimes, but Ann avoided the topic of her husband.

                “Kurt’s not very social.  He works hard all week and just wants to relax at home after work,” she lied as she gazed out the window at the blue sky and the small wavering leaves and delicate branches of an olive tree.

                “Tell him you have to come.  It’s a great opportunity for you to spend time with our CEO.  This is business, it’s not just fun.  You need to be there, Ann.”

                That would be one of those CLM’s we all joke about; career limiting moves.  To see what an awful man I chose to live with, his rude, cruel behavior.  They only see my strong business side, but they don’t know me at home.  I don’t want them to find out.  I want to keep my career in fast forward.  I love this job; I feel important and respected here.

                “Can I come alone?” she ventured. 

                “Whoa.  Listen.  Everyone else will be couples.  The exec’s wives sure would be happier to see the young female manager with a husband.  Their wives can really make the big guys miserable if they feel threatened!  You aren’t like that, you don’t want to make it look like there’s anything for them to worry about.” 

                “I’ll think about it,” she said as she left Richard’s office.

                That lunch hour at the deli across the street, Ann joked and laughed with two office buddies over a turkey and avocado sandwich.  Paul was making sarcastic cracks about the financial condition of the company.  Lisa was telling them funny stories about the goofy new sales guy who repeatedly tripped over things and kissed up to her shamelessly at last week’s trade show.  Ann was still chuckling about her friends’ witty one-liners when she got back to her desk and saw the message light flashing on her phone.

It was Kurt.  An ambulance had taken him to the hospital.

Ann held her breath as she pressed the phone tightly against her ear willing him to answer his cell phone quickly.  He answered immediately.

“I’m on an EKG at Washington Hospital.  They’re going to put me on the treadmill in a few minutes.  They think I had a heart attack.”

“I’ll be right there,” Ann said in a panic.  Her blood began to whoosh loudly in her ears.

“No.  I don’t want you here.  You stay at work,” he said harshly.

“What?  Are you kidding?  I can get out of here, no problem.”

“Forget it.  You stay there and make the money.  The doctors and nurses will do more for me than you ever could.”

Ann sat rigid over her desk, stunned.  How can I work?  What is wrong with him? I should just go, but he’ll be pissed.  He’ll make me feel like dirt.  I feel like dirt anyway!  This is insane!  She huffed and dropped sharply onto the back of her chair.  Her eyes drifted to the Picasso book she had brought to the office.  She wanted to see if Paul or Lisa could see the woman in the Nude Woman painting.  Oh, those paintings frustrate me too!  Ann yanked the book off the credenza and flung it across the office floor.

                 She stuck it out until 3:30, her mind alternately racing and drifting into fuzzy reveries as she absently shuffled papers and pretended her heart didn’t ache.  I can’t believe he shut me out like this.  If I were the one in the hospital I’m sure I could expect this coldness from him.  That’s not the marriage I want.  I should have left months ago.  I would have if he hadn’t threatened me last year; I believed him when he said if I left him, he’d take the baby and I’d never see her again.  I can’t take that risk.  

She went home early to pick up their daughter from daycare.  It was usually his job to get her.  When they got home Kurt was there, prostrate on the couch. 

                “What are you doing home?  Are you OK?” She said in amazement as she slapped the palm of her hand over her heart.

                “It was some kind of anxiety attack.  Not a heart attack,” he said sounding disappointed.

                “Anxiety?  I don’t understand.  What’s so wrong in your life?”  Ann put the baby near some toys on the carpet in the living room.

                “I’m just a miserable, fucking man.  I’m miserable,” he said in a deep growly voice.

                “But why?  I don’t get it.  We have great jobs, a beautiful little girl, a nice house.  What is so awful?  I don’t understand you!  Is a good life hard to accept?”

                “I’m just not happy.”

                “ ‘Not happy’ doesn’t put people in a hospital!”

                The baby screamed and burst into tears.  She had hit her head on the coffee table as she reached for a toy underneath. 

                “You stupid, stupid, fucking idiot of a child!” Kurt shouted as he lunged toward the baby, red faced, arms flailing wildly, spit flying on the hard consonants.  “You can’t put your head through a table.  Figure it out idiot!”   

                Ann was frozen in place two steps behind Kurt.  Her hands locked over her mouth as she stared at her little girl crying on the carpet.  She was nauseous from the adrenaline pounding through her veins.  Oh my God.  Now he’s started on her, too.  Why can’t I go to her?  This is bad.  Very bad.  I have to get her away from him.  So much for staying for the baby’s sake.  I should leave for the baby’s sake!

                Kurt’s footsteps thumped as ominously as a giant’s as he retreated to lock himself in the bedroom.

                The tears slipped down her cheeks as she walked into the kitchen and settled the baby in the highchair with crackers.  At least he doesn’t hit us.  Ann gripped the edge of the counter with one hand and clasped the other over her dry lips.  She didn’t breathe for a long minute, holding back the flood of emotion stifled inside.  Damn him.  Anxiety this extreme? He’s nuts.  Mentally ill!  I have to leave.  But I can’t kick a dog when he’s down.  I’ll have to stay until he’s better.  Who am I kidding?  He may never be better!  If he was better, then we could have a good life.  I don’t know what to do, but I can’t leave right now.

                A week later, Ann picked up the phone in the kitchen.  It was Kurt’s doctor. 

                “How is Kurt doing with his therapy?” the doctor asked.

                “Excuse me?  What therapy?”

                “I told him with his extreme anxiety, he really needs to get into counseling.” 

                “What?  He never mentioned that,” Ann said.

“Will you pursue it with him?  It’s important that he start right away.”

                She braced herself to talk about it with Kurt.  After she asked if he had started seeing a therapist, he simply stood up, mumbled, “No,” then left the room without looking at her.

                The next morning Ann made an appointment with a therapist.  At dinner she told him about it.  “Kurt, I made an appointment for you to see a therapist.  Your doctor said…”

                He cut her off.  “Butt out.  I’m not going.”

                “Well, then I think we should go together.  Our marriage is in trouble and we could use some help,” she trembled as she forged ahead, adrenaline once again making her sick.

                “No.  I’m not going to any damn shrink.  They’re a joke.”

                “Then I’m going by myself.  If you decide to come, great.  It’s Tuesday at 6 o’clock at Stoneridge Plaza with Sydney Shore.”  Her insides felt like quivering jelly.  Very much aware that he was watching her, she held herself tall and walked stiffly down the hall.  She spent the night with the baby in the nursery.  He didn’t say another word about the appointment, or anything else that night.

                Ann wasn’t surprised when he didn’t show up for the therapy session.  The office was comfortable with its soft orange glow of light, thick brown carpet, and coarsely textured grass wallpaper.  Ann chose a stiff chair next to the door, leaving the over stuffed loveseat empty.  There was a large print of Picasso’s Nude Woman in front of her.

                “Why are you here today, Ann?”

                “My husband had this false heart attack, anxiety, and his doctor…” she rushed.

                “Why are you here today, Ann?”

                “Our marriage is a mess and we…”

                “Listen.  Why are YOU here today, Ann?”

                “To find the strength to leave the asshole!”  Ann shouted through sudden tears.  She hadn’t anticipated saying anything of the sort.

                Sydney smiled as she handed a box of Kleenex to Ann. 

                As she blew her nose, looking at the Picasso, Ann saw the woman in the painting for the first time; the Nude Woman emerged from the confusion of sharp angles and shadows.  Just then, Ann realized why she was there and felt whole for the first time in a long while.