DNA 2 Chapter 5
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“Helen, this has to stop. Heʼs seven years old for godʼs sake!”
Helen Connors, twenty-four year old housewife and mother stared at the floor, as usual unable to meet her husbandʼs stare.
“I ... I know,” she pleaded,
“but heʼs still so frightened of storms and besides his asthma...”
“Asthma or not, itʼs just ... not natural.”
“But sleeping with us seems to help his asthma attacks. He sleeps over on my side now and...”
“Like that makes any real difference? You stopped being a real wife a long time ago!” The pain of being such a failure to her husband sliced through her once again and her dejection was near complete. The once attractive blonde took her head in her hands and sobbed.
“Iʼm sorry, Iʼve been such a disappointment to you.”
“Well, Iʼm sorry too. God, whatʼs happened to you, Helen? You were beautiful when I married you. Other guys even used to whistle at you. But ever since our wedding night when you proved you were no woman at all in bed youʼve let yourself go. Itʼs no wonder I...”
“Why, Larry? Why must you go and be with other women? Iʼll fix myself up. Iʼll...”
“Too late now, Helen. You couldnʼt provide what I need so Iʼve gotten it elsewhere and, frankly, itʼs a hell of a lot better than you could ever give me.”
“Iʼll change, Larry,” she begged.
“Youʼll see. I can be better. Iʼll...”
“You can try all you want, Helen, youʼve never been woman enough for me. Oh, youʼre not a bad housekeeper and a pretty good cook, but when it comes to sex you just canʼt give me what I need ... what I want!”
“Please, Larry, donʼt say that!”
“I say it because itʼs true! And as for Ethan, get him his own bed.”
“Larry, Iʼll ... Iʼll move him into his own room soon ... I promise. Just give me time enough to fix the room up a bit.”
“All right, but soon. I may have to share a bed with a woman who canʼt satisfy me, but Iʼll be damned if I want to share it with a seven year old kid as well.”
“Heʼs our son, Larry.”
“No, heʼs your son. You put out in the back seat of a car when you were seventeen and paid the price. Then you got me to marry you and adopt the kid and you havenʼt put out since!”
“But I was raped. The doctor says I was traumatized.”
“Thatʼs a load of crap. You just arenʼt a real woman at all. Youʼre lucky I havenʼt left you. If it wasnʼt for the fact that I donʼt believe in divorce...”
“Please, Larry, I know how lucky I am to have you.”
“Then start acting like it. And for godʼs sake, fix yourself up and make yourself presentable!”
“I will, Larry, I promise!”
With that the husky, ill tempered husband was on his way to work at a local machine shop. Helen Connors tried unsuccessfully to contain the tears of pain, anguish and guilt. Larry was right, she thought, she was the complete failure he told her she was. It wasnʼt that she didnʼt want to have sex with him, but each time he had touched her, images of that horrid night flashed through her mind and she froze. After a while he had stopped trying and the relationship had withered. When it became obvious theirs was a marriage of convenience (cooking and housekeeping) she had quit trying to make herself attractive for him and he had sought other women. She heard the school bus stop and discharge its contents and her mood brightened a bit. Ethan was home. Her precious little boy, her offspring, her son.
“Hi mom!” said the seven year old boundless package of energy with the unruly brown hair and easy smile.
“Howʼs my little man today?” she asked, smiles covering both their faces.
“I won the race during P.E. today!” he chirped.
“Wonderful, that deserves a treat!”
Checking to make sure the curtains were closed they sat on the couch side by side.
“And which would my little man like today?” she asked.
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