Liar (17 page)

Sam returned to the icy blast of his wife’s cool, polite, unemotional self. He threw his bags down as usual in the hallway and flipped through the mail. He paced around the house like a miserable, caged animal, stood and watched China quietly preparing dinner, and finally lashed out.

“What’s the matter with you?” asked Sam angrily. “You got a bug up your ass?”

“What a charming way to start a conversation,” said China, reaching for another carrot. “I’m fine Sam. You’re the one who’s acting like a wounded bear.”

“I feel nervous, like this house is your space and not mine and I want to reclaim it but I can’t.”

“It’s normal. You’ve been away a long time. You feel like a stranger in your own house. We are strangers. Every time you return, you take back my body with the greatest of ease, but when we’re separated we both become I. When you return home we have to forget about I and become we. Give it a few days.”

What the hell is she talking about,
wondered Sam?
She’s acting like the original ice princess. She’s so cold I’ll freeze if I touch her. What’s this forget about I and become we crap?

“You’re right, sweetie,” said Sam cheerfully. “I’m going down to the office for a little while.”

Oh goody,
thought China,
he bought the biggest bit of drivel I’ve ever allowed to pass my lips.
China continued to scrape carrots and wondered if Sam’s office would feel strange too. Sam was a victim of road fever. There was only one cure for it. Staying in one place and dealing with life.

Later that night, Sam waited in bed for China to join him. Things had changed. They used to jump on each other the moment Sam returned from a trip. China took her time in the bathroom. She climbed into bed and turned to kiss Sam.

“Uhhggg...Sam!” she complained. “You didn’t brush your teeth.”

“Yes I did.”

“With what? Your bags are still downstairs in the hall.”

“I brushed them downstairs.”

China jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs.

“China? Where are you going?”

She looked at Sam’s untouched luggage still lying in the same position and checked the toothbrushes in the downstairs bathroom for wetness. They were both as dry as a bone. She looked at herself in the mirror, and saw the crazy look in her eyes.
China,
she thought,
you’re becoming as sick as he is.

She ran back upstairs and stood in front of Sam waving the dry toothbrushes like an avenging tooth fairy.

“How come your toothbrush is dry?”

“I must have used yours by mistake.”

China waved the other toothbrush in the air.

“Mine is dry too.”

“Well, I know I brushed my teeth. I must have used your upstairs toothbrush,” grinned Sam, lying through his unbrushed teeth. Then he got serious.

“China, come here, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Well,” said China standing her ground, “if you did use my toothbrush you’re a disgusting pig. Tomorrow, as soon as the stores open, you will buy me a new toothbrush!”

“Yes ma’am. Now, come here. I’ve got a much bigger brush just waiting for your luscious mouth,” said Sam waving his penis in the air.

“I’m not climbing into bed with a disgusting pig who hasn’t brushed his teeth all day!”

“You don’t have to kiss me,” he replied with a wink and another shake of his penis.

China looked at Sam and shook her head. She almost laughed and then she felt like crying.

“Sam, I’m tired of waiting for you to grow up and stop acting like a bad little boy. I’m tired of being the only adult in this relationship. I’m sleeping in the spare room until you grow up.”

Sam watched as China grabbed her pillow and went to the spare bedroom. He felt his penis wilt with disappointment and he turned over and fell into a restless sleep.

China, now had a head full of anger and didn’t bother to try sleeping. She retrieved her journal from under the mattress. Sometimes she thought it was a liability. Like living with another person in the house. Maybe those who kept journals should always live alone.

March 15/98

I don’t want to talk about the most ridiculous lie about brushing teeth. I’m sympathetic to his pain that he ignores, but my own pain is screaming louder. I’m worn out thinking for him, talking for him. It’s time he reached for me instead of just barking emptily. I can feel all of the churning inside of him, the emotion that he’s so afraid of. He’s a wounded bear. An arrow in his shoulder. He can’t reach to pluck it out, too afraid and proud to ask for help and so he bears the pain. It grumbles with every step but must be borne with bearly fortitude.

We, the wives, the nurses, watch helplessly, tired of trying to heal them because we only get snapped at and told we nag too much, have impossibly high standards. We watch them slowly die, comforting when we can, screaming when frustration overwhelms us, turning away when we can watch no more.

The next day China laid the tea on the table in front of Sam and spoke with careful decision.

“Sam, I think it’s time we moved to Halifax.”

“So, leave,” said Sam with a cold voice and a red face.

China didn’t even react to his cold statement, believing it was just an empty bark.

“I said we, Sam, not I. This place is not good for you or for me on a permanent basis.”

“I have to live here. I can’t afford to pay income tax.”

“You don’t live here! I live here, and you visit occasionally. In the past year you’ve been on this island a total of four months. You’re going to have to choose between me and the tax man. Don’t you think I’m worth it? In the beginning you told me that if I didn’t like it here, we’d move to Halifax. We also discussed it before the operation and you agreed.”

“I don’t remember that,” said Sam stupidly.

Has he also forgotten the two thousand in my savings account? Don’t think I’ll remind him of that,
thought China.

“I don’t care whether you remember or not. I just told you that I can’t live here anymore!”

“I can’t live in Halifax. Too many bad memories. Maybe we could get a place in Montreal. I may be getting a lot of work in Northern Quebec.”

“I can’t live in Montreal! I don’t speak French and neither do you. What about Toronto? I thought you wanted a close connection to Grimshaw, but if you don’t care about that, I’d be happy to return to Toronto. We could still get a summer place here when we can afford it.”

“Toronto is too expensive. Look, things will get better. You’re not going to solve anything by running. Isn’t that what you did with your old boyfriends? The going gets rough so you leave?”

“What are you talking about? This isn’t about others, it’s about us!”

“I’m calling Nathan.”

“Good. Maybe Nathan can find a solution. I’m going to bed.”

China went upstairs, her stomach sick with a combination of grief and exhaustion from wrestling with her incomprehensible husband. She opened her journal to try and write sense out of the emotional chaos churning in her mind. Her tears flowed but she was impressed that Sam called Nathan himself. Maybe Sam would do the work now. The counselling sessions a few months ago had diffused China’s torment and given her time to believe that Sam could be fixed. What did China believe now? Did she believe that moving to Halifax would stop Sam’s lies? Not really. She hoped that taking charge of her life would force Sam to take charge of his, and maybe, if he did, they still had a chance. The ball was now in Sam’s court. She would go back to a way of life that made sense to her and Sam could fit himself in or not. Halifax would be the halfway house. She would go to the counselling session, but this time she believed that Sam was right. Counselling wouldn’t save the marriage. It wouldn’t survive unless Sam did the work, and she no longer believed he would, or could. She was simply leaving the door open slightly. Just in case.

March 20/98

I guess I’ve made a bad habit of choosing the wrong men but leaving a miserable situation is always a good decision. According to Sam, I should stay and accumulate more damage. Stay here under his control and do what he wants? Stay here and get an ulcer? Stay because the sex is good? Stay because he has enslaved my body while my mind yearns to live again amongst my own kind? All he has to do is stop lying. He acts as though I’m asking him to lay down his life for me. Perhaps if he could see a lie, like a bottle of liquor, he could put it down, know the colour and shape of it and therefore avoid it.

~ ~

China wrote her poem as the tears streamed down her face and at the end of it she felt as though she’d been turned inside out and hung on a branch to dry.

March 22/98

Sometimes A Bird

Sometimes a bird flies through me

gathering my skeleton

in its wings

pulling me inside out

leaving my skin crumpling softly,

jellying on the floor;

Sometimes a stone lodges

in my belly, heavy

with no reward

but the loneliness of my will;

Sometimes my heart swells with tears

and pushes my soul

with relentless pain;

Sometimes a bird struggles inside

clutching my pride

with freedom.

~ ~

Nathan greeted them quietly and got through the polite preliminaries about China’s operation and Sam’s latest trip.

“So, I believe a crisis has developed?” asked Nathan.

“Yes,” said Sam. “China is leaving me.”

“That’s not what I said Sam. I’m leaving this island. I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re lying!” said Sam angrily.

“I’m not lying,” cried China. “When I decide to leave you, if I decide to leave you, you’ll know it.”

“Calm down you two,” said Nathan firmly. “China, since our last session, you’ve been through a very difficult operation. The trauma to your body could be affecting your feelings. Sam, why do you think China has decided to leave you?”

“Because she’s repeating the same pattern.”

“What pattern are you talking about?” questioned Nathan.

“She always left the men in her life the same way. It’s a pattern she keeps repeating.”

The nickel dropped right into China’s lap. The bastard had read all her journals, even the ones before Sam that she kept in a box in storage.

“Sam, you read all my journals, didn’t you?”

Nathan and China looked at Sam who had the grace to look ashamed.

“Well,” replied Sam carefully marshaling his defense, “you told me you had lived with three men and left them and you seemed quite cheerful about it, and I guess I was suspicious. Anyway, from the beginning I was afraid you wouldn’t stick it out. Maybe that’s why I didn’t always treat you so well. I didn’t believe in your commitment.”

China thought she would choke with her rage.

“My commitment?” she sputtered. “It’s my fault you lied to me and Larry and everyone else who ever listened to you? It’s always the woman’s fault, isn’t it? Rape a woman because she asked for it. Beat your wife because she provoked you. Lie constantly because she’s not committed!”

China jumped up from her chair and started pacing Nathan’s small office, hugging herself, trying to keep the rage contained in her body. She wanted to pound Sam to dust.

“Sam,” said Nathan quietly, “China showed her commitment by marrying you and giving up her world to move into yours. She’s asking you to do the same thing for her. She’s tried very hard to live here but perhaps because of your long absences, it hasn’t worked out. She’s asking you to move to a place where she feels comfortable.”

China now felt like pounding Nathan and his gentle, quietly sensible words into dust. She turned on Nathan and yelled at him.

“Comfortable? There’s no comfort living anywhere with this man. How can I live with someone I don’t trust?”

China ran out of Nathan’s office, jumped in the car, and drove home like a madwoman. She went to the storage area beneath the stairs and found her box of old journals. Sam, arrived shortly after in Eddie’s taxi. He found her sitting on the floor with the box beside her staring into space, her face shiny with tears.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam.

“Why? Why did you read them?”

“It was when we were first together. I didn’t know what they were then. I was looking for something else.”

“You were looking for what? A jockstrap? In a box labeled China’s Journals? Stop lying to me!”

“What difference does it make? It was old stuff, before I met you.”

“This is the only place in the world where I can feel completely safe, and you’ve taken that away from me. You don’t understand what a journal is about. It’s not the story of my life Sam. It’s about feelings, and chaos, and fantasies. It’s just moments suspended in time. What about the hours and days and years that are not recorded here? The life that I lived? There’s only one minute, ten minutes a day in those pages.”

“I thought I could figure you out better if I read the journals. You’re always scribbling stuff in there.”

“Ask me, Sam! Ask me questions and I’ll answer truthfully. You won’t find any answers here. All you’ll find is stuff that you won’t understand. It’s my stuff Sam. Mine. All you need to know is that I feel violated!”

“Well, now I know. I won’t read them again.”

“I think that I can’t bear to stay in your presence for another moment, because another moment is another lie.”

For the rest of the afternoon China went through the motions of living. Sam grabbed her at one point and she went rigid in his arms.

“Come on sweetie, don’t be such a grump. Let me make it up to you,” said Sam as he hugged China and moved his hips against her.

“Keep away from me,” answered China pushing Sam away. “I’m not going to make love to you again until you learn how to talk to me with something other than your penis.”

Sam went to the office, or to the devil, and while he was gone Nathan called to see how she was.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call you sooner, but I had a couple of other clients.”

“Nathan I don’t understand how I can feel so numb and be in so much pain at the same time.”

“You’re trying to live on too many levels. You can’t do Sam’s work for him. I think we need to talk about you and put aside the marriage counselling for a while. Obviously things have deteriorated greatly since your operation.”

“You’re telling me. We didn’t even get a chance to mention that Sam’s partner dumped him.”

“Oh dear, that is bad news.”

“Can you schedule me in tomorrow?” asked China.

“I can schedule you in right now if you want,” said Nathan.

“No thanks. I’ve had enough for one day. Tomorrow will be fine.”

Sam came back, paced the floor, channel surfed, and pouted into the evening. China had a bowl of cereal for supper. Sam went out to get something to eat when he realized the maid had no intention of preparing food for the man of the house. When he came back, China announced she was going to bed early and for the first time in their together existence, she didn’t even give him a polite peck good night.

March 25/98

He has no idea how to fix this mess. How awful it must be to be Sam and have your ego all tied up in a penis, to have your identity housed in such a strange, wrinkly place.

China slipped in and out of sleep and heard Sam pacing the floor for hours it seemed. She finally heard him climb the stairs, pause at her door, and then go to his bedroom. She waited until she heard snoring and she went back downstairs to pour a soothing drink of rum. She read a bit, channel surfed, had another drink and went back to bed.

3:00 am:

I’ve had two rums, a glass of milk, a bag of pretzels and two aspirin and I still can’t sleep. Now I know why Marilyn Monroe died. She was just trying to get some sleep.

~ ~

The next morning China walked into the master bedroom and found Sam sitting morosely on the edge of the bed, with one sock on and one sock in hand.

“Sam, I’m not going back to marriage counselling with you. Not for a while. Maybe not ever. That’s up to you. I’m going to see Nathan on my own and I suggest you do the same. I’m exhausted. I no longer have the strength to try and fix you. I can’t do it.”

“Go ahead and leave then,” said Sam woodenly.

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

There was silence in the house as Sam struggled to express his feelings. For once China waited without saying a word.

“I love you,” said Sam miserably. “But I’m afraid that you’ve made up your mind. I don’t see the point in doing the therapy if you’re going to leave anyway.”

“God Sam,” said China breaking into tears. “Don’t you even want to try and fight for me?”

He looked at her with sad, helpless eyes.

“All right, I’ll try. I’ll work with Nathan. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Thank you,” said China quietly.

She sat beside him, put her arms around his neck and laid her cheek next to his. She inhaled the warm scent of him and her heart thumped quickly with the effort of not giving into pity and the sweetness of forgiving. Her mind hardened against her mushy heart, that oddly shaped enemy, where humans laid their emotions. Her need to love had betrayed her once too often and she resolved that Sam would either change with this one more chance, or it would be over.

“And Sam?” she said softly. “Don’t expect miracles. Your only road back to me is with words, the right words. You’re going to have to learn how to speak the truth. I can’t live with a man I don’t trust.”

It was a strange silent week. China had one session with Nathan and Sam had two and worked hard at the office. She carved as though her life depended on it. She cleaned the house like a demented char and cooked like Martha Stewart on speed. They had brief, polite conversations and Sam pretended there wasn’t a sexual thought in his head.

~ ~

The following Monday, Sam announced he had to go back to Prince Rupert for a couple of weeks.

“What about your sessions with Nathan?” asked China.

“I still have to make money,” replied Sam with a sigh. “I’ll continue when I get back. He gave me some homework to do.”

“Like what?” asked China curiously.

“He wants me to keep a journal,” smiled Sam ruefully.

“I’m glad to hear he’s telling you the same thing I did.”

“I don’t remember you saying anything about a journal, but I do remember you saying I should write things down.”

“Semantics Sam. It’s a good idea whatever you call it.”

Sam left on the seaplane and China breathed a sigh of relief. She had discovered another aspect to Sam’s lying. When he didn’t like something, he either forgot it or carefully reconstructed it in a different way in his memory. Did the truth make him feel inferior?
How awful it must be,
she thought,
to be married to me, who records the order of things daily. Do I have the patience to wait for him to heal? Will I lose myself in the process? Can he heal? Doesn’t he realize that without me, he is lost?

China understood that Sam would have to go through a very rough time before the healing could take place. Whatever was horrible in his past would have to be uprooted and it was buried deep. He was a man stumbling in the dark not even knowing there was a light switch. All of Sam’s energy was focused outward. The inner work that Nathan and China wanted him to do was very scary territory. Could he do it in order to keep the woman he loved so very much?

~ ~

China called a Real Estate agent in Halifax to line up a few apartments for her to look at the following week. She started packing a few boxes and renegotiated life terms with herself. She was afraid of what she’d have to give up to keep Sam. Worried that the marriage would survive and she’d end up like so many other old couples, living out their days together with victorious bitterness.

April 7/98

I spent an hour on the beach drawing stick figures in the sand and then walked to the top of One Mountain. The beautiful view did not soothe me and my scar ached, reminding me that it was still new. Have I finally learned my lesson? Great turmoil and unhappiness will always manifest in the body. I allowed Sam to make love to me before he left. Sex is the only thing I now feel obliged to give to him. I comforted him with my body because it was easy to do. He knew my heart wasn’t in it but he took the comfort gratefully.

He never loved me the way I wanted to be loved. In the beginning his technical expertise excited me but after a while I craved tenderness, understanding. I needed to be loved expertly outside of the bed and it wasn’t there. What I feel for him now, I think, is nostalgia, for the way I felt, regret that I no longer feel that way, because love feels so good, before it sours and goes wrong and befouls the mind and body with anger, resentment and illness.

His absence does not make my heart grow fonder. When his charm and laughter aren’t warming me, my critical self dwells on all the injustices, the lies. His lies come out of hiding and I rail at him for not being who I thought he was. He has disappointed me and hurt me terribly and I can’t forgive him for it. I can’t live with bitterness and hate and fear as some do to keep the house, the car, the lifestyle.

I can’t be like Sarah, angrily carrying on her duty to her children, raging and screaming at the situation she has chosen, frantically creating her art in stolen moments, to keep something for herself. Small grains of satisfaction holding back the flood of duty, the cataclysm of divorce, battling, always battling, occasionally winning the temporary peace of a truce.

What about me? What am I like? Fiercely independent, but throwing independence aside during moments of fear and vulnerability. I sometimes lose trust in myself, seek love and support in the wrong places, then finally return to the realization that I can really only trust myself, that all my energy must be used to forward my beliefs and no one else’s. I re-trace my steps, go back to the crossroads where I left my soul, unearth all my possessions and slowly forge another path on which I walk alone.

~ ~

China answered the phone and quickly recognized the voice, even though it was slurred with booze.

“Does Sam remember when we did it under the bridge?” asked Marisa.

China hung up and walked blindly into the kitchen. She opened the cupboard and took out a plate and hurled it at the wall. It broke with a satisfying crash and she hurled another plate, and another, and another. She picked up a chair and slammed it down on the table. She was furious that it didn’t break and only dented the table. She ran out to the shed, picked up the hammer and hit the walls of the shed as hard as she could until she was afraid she’d break her arm and she stopped. She looked at the unfinished Sams lying on the floor and considered chopping them into small pieces and burning them. Then she left the shed, walked into the house and went upstairs to pack her bags.