‘But you were a teenager, Mum. I’m an adult.’
‘Nah, you’re a superannuated teen,’ Mum replies jokingly and nudges me with her shoulder. ‘You’ll always be the little girl with the two neat puffs and the supersonic Vee voice to me.’
I manage a smile when I think of all the times Con and Mum and Dad had to clamp their hands over their ears because my voice went so high in outrage it was virtually supersonic.
‘Do you think Logan was abusive, Mum?’
‘I think . . . I think . . . That night you were telling me about, did you finish your work in time?’
No, I didn’t. After he’d initiated sex again and kept me up talking for a couple more hours, I fell asleep. And when I woke up, it was too late to finish it off. I’d had to go to work unprepared and we’d had to rush to get it done before the client meeting. That had been the first time in my whole life that I hadn’t done my work to the best of my abilities. It had been frowned upon. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. Is that what Darryl had meant when he said he’d seen a change in me? Is that what Dad had been trying to say when he was pushing me to examine who had been manoeuvred out of my life? After that night, after the surprise and disappointment on my colleagues’ faces the next morning, I’d started staying at work to finish anything that needed doing. Again it wasn’t a wholly conscious thing, but it was easier to get texts and calls asking where I was and when I’d be back than to have to resist Logan dragging me to bed when I had to get stuff done.
‘No,’ I reply. ‘No I didn’t finish my work that night.’
‘And was it important to you?’
‘Yes, I was so close to finishing my training and there are so many of us who would do anything to get the job at the end of it. And it just looked bad.’
‘If someone consistently interferes with something like your job or your studies or your family life or your health, then they don’t have your best interests at heart.’
‘But does that make them abusive? Does that make Logan abusive?’
She says nothing for a long time. And I can see she is thinking it over – either considering the evidence or trying to think of the best way to say it.
‘Sometimes it seems like I see abuse everywhere,’ Mum eventually says, rather neatly dodging the question.
That’s because she doesn’t want to say it. Like Darryl, like Dad, like Conrad even, she’s hinted at it, walked right up and brushed against it, and if anyone was going to be brave enough to say it to me, I’d have thought it would be my mother. But no, even she is ducking out at this point in the conversation.
She obviously doesn’t want to say that my burning head and churning stomach and the incidents that keep popping up in my mind like jack-in-the-boxes at a toy factory, all tell me this one simple truth: I was in an abusive relationship. And because he never hit me, because I was feisty and forthright in other areas of my life, because he was good-looking and intelligent and sweet and kind, I hadn’t even noticed it happening.
serena
Now
Hell is listening to your daughter describe how she was violated, raped, manipulated and abused.
Hell is listening to your daughter describe how she was violated, raped, manipulated and abused in many different ways, and knowing it is your fault.
I am trying not to cry. I am trying not to let it show how truly horrible her relationship was. She doesn’t realise. She doesn’t see that, no, he didn’t hit her, he didn’t shove her or kick her, but he was violent in so many different ways.
He tried to break her mentally and emotionally, he almost severed her bond with her family, and he has shattered her faith in the world. And she doesn’t fully realise it yet. She wants me to name it for her, contextualise it for her, and I can’t do that. If I do, there will always be seeds of doubt in her mind about whether my experience is clouding how I see her experience.
All I can do is listen and question and suggest. The rest she will have to come to herself.
But, oh, hell is listening to your daughter describe how she was violated, raped, manipulated and abused and knowing you can’t do a thing about it.
Nothing, except put your arms around her and try to hug away the pain.
Part 9
logan
20 July, 2019
Am hypersensitive to this. But she pushed my head. Sounds pathetic written down but we were talking about who could have killed Marcus Halnsley and when I said it could have been her mother, she kind of pushed my head. Sounds pathetic, but felt unnecessarily physical. I didn’t say anything, but it kind of sat in my head for a long time afterwards – how easily she could do that to me.
5 August, 2019
Don’t know how I feel about this. Something happened that I think most men would be all right with. But I’m not sure how to feel. Woke up and I was in her mouth. Tried to get her to stop, gently tugged at her head to move her away but she wouldn’t stop. And ended up with my hands in her hair and letting her, I suppose. It was all right in the end, you know, I mean I came and all that, but it felt strange. Odd. Because I had no say in it. I mean, woke up and boom she’s doing it to me and I’m having to go along with it. Feels strange, that’s all.
14 August, 2019
Good day today. She was in a good mood. Came home from work and she was all happy. I’d spent a couple of hours cooking and she loved it. None of the usual grumpiness about it being unseasoned or over-seasoned or too fatty. She just ate it and said thank you and kissed me several times. Ended up cuddling on the sofa. Remember why I love her. This is the real her. Not the other one. Not the one I have to deal with sometimes. Actually, not going to spoil today by thinking about that.
1 September, 2019
Devastated. Absolutely devastated. She hit me. First time. Keep trying to find a way to get around it, to pretend it didn’t happen the way it did. Was behind the door in the living room, putting up one of those sticky things because she wants a hook behind the door. Next thing I know, BAM!!!! Door was slammed into my face. Surprised my nose didn’t break. And then she started laughing. Claimed she’d forgotten I was behind the door and had reacted instinctively when the door moved. She wouldn’t stop laughing so have come home. She’s left a message on the answer machine which is nonsense. No real apology. Just shite, really. Feel awful. Understand what those women mean when they say they don’t know what to do when a man hits them. I know I should just walk away, but we’ve been through so much together. All the Ice Cream Girls stuff. We’ve become so close, and no one else really understands all that like she does. Don’t know what to do. Just don’t know what to do. Love her so much. But can’t stay with her if she’s going to do this.
5 September, 2019
She did it again. Woke up and she’s on top of me. She’s working on me until I’m hard and then I can’t stop her. Not really. Not without hurting her. I kind of lay there and let her. She even took my hands and put them on her breasts and made out that I was enjoying it. My stupid body was responding right until I came but it wasn’t what I wanted. Is this what it’s going to be like from now on? Asked her not to do it again. And she agreed. Hopefully she’ll stick to it.