Celeste thought. I know exactly what you mean.
Now she pressed her hand to her upper arm and battled the desire to cry. She wouldn’t be able to wear that sleeveless dress tomorrow now.
“I don’t know why . . .” She stopped. I don’t know why I stay. I don’t know why I deserve this. I don’t know why you do this, why we do this, why this keeps happening.
“Celeste,” he said hoarsely, and she could see the violence draining from his body. The DVD started again. Perry picked up the remote and turned off the television.
“Oh God. I’m so sorry.” His face sagged with regret.
It was over now. There would be no further recriminations about the party. In fact, the very opposite. He’d be tender and solicitous. For the next few days up until he left for his trip, no woman would be more cherished than Celeste. Part of her would enjoy it: the tremulous, teary, righteous feeling of being wronged.
She let her hand drop from her arm.
It could have been so much worse. He rarely hit her face. She’d never broken a limb or needed stitches. Her bruises could always be kept secret with a turtleneck or sleeves or long pants. He would never lay a finger on the children. The boys never saw. It could be worse. Oh, so much worse. She’d read the articles about proper domestic violence victims. That was terrible. That was real. What Perry did didn’t count. It was small stuff, which made it all the more humiliating, because it was so . . . tacky. So childish and trite.
He didn’t cheat on her. He didn’t gamble. He didn’t drink to excess. He didn’t ignore her, like the way her father had ignored her mother. That would be the worst. To be ignored. To not be seen.
Perry’s rage was an illness. A mental illness. She saw the way it took hold of him, how he tried his best to resist. When he was in the throes of it, his eyes became red and glassy, as if he were drugged. The things he said didn’t even make sense. It wasn’t him. The rage wasn’t him. Would she leave him if he got a brain tumor and the tumor affected his personality? Of course she wouldn’t.
This was just a glitch in an otherwise perfect relationship. Every relationship had its glitches. Its ups, its downs. It was like motherhood. Every morning the boys climbed into bed with her for a cuddle, and at first it was heavenly, and then, after about ten minutes or so, they started fighting, and it was terrible. Her boys were gorgeous little darlings. Her boys were feral little animals.
She would never leave Perry any more than she could leave the boys.
Perry held out his arms. “Celeste?”
She turned her head, took a step away, but there was no one else there to comfort her. There was only him. The real him. She stepped forward and laid her head against his chest.
Samantha: I’ll never forget the moment when Perry and Celeste walked into the trivia night. There was like this ripple across the room. Everyone just stopped and stared.
23.
Isn’t this FANTASTIC!” cried Madeline to Chloe as they took their really very excellent seats in front of the giant ice rink. “You can feel the cold from the ice! Brrr! Oh! Can you hear the music? I wonder where the princesses—”
Chloe had reached over and placed one hand gently over her mother’s mouth. “Shhh.”
Madeline knew she was talking too much because she was feeling anxious and ever so slightly guilty. Today needed to be stupendous to make it worth the rift she’d created between herself and Renata. Eight kindergarten children, who would otherwise be attending Amabella’s party, were here watching Disney On Ice because of Madeline.
Madeline looked past Chloe at Ziggy, who was nursing a giant stuffed toy on his lap. Ziggy was the reason they were here today, she reminded herself. Poor Ziggy wouldn’t have been at the party. Dear little fatherless Ziggy. Who was possibly a secret psychopathic bully . . . but still!
“Are you taking care of Harry the Hippo this weekend, Ziggy?” she said brightly. Harry the Hippo was the class toy. Every weekend it went home with a different child, along with a scrapbook that had to be returned with a little story about the weekend, accompanied by photos.
Ziggy nodded mutely. A child of few words.
Jane leaned forward, discreetly chewing gum as always. “It’s quite stressful having Harry to stay.