14
“The road is clear, although you might find there are some patches of black ice now that the sun has gone down.” Anton sat on the couch in the living room, ready for a night on his own with a few beers, a boxing match ready to start, and some snacks.
“Thanks, Anton,” Matteo said and took the keys to the SUV from the coffee table. “We’ll be back around 11 or 12, not sure. It depends on what she wants to do after we go to the movies.”
“Sure, I’ll keep a watch on everything here.” Anton picked up a bag of corn chips and opened them. He’d been down to the town earlier to get food and other necessities while the weather was clear.
Matteo and Marie were on their way out to dinner and a movie, and his wife was nearly dancing with excitement. She was dressed in a thick black sweater, black leggings, with her black wool coat on over that. She even had a black knit cap on her head. “You look like a burglar.”
“What?” she asked, her eyes wide with dismay. “Do I?”
“A little, but it’s sexy. Come on, my little thief, let's get out of here before the weather changes its mind again.” Matteo had learned it was possible up here, but it shouldn’t get too bad in the couple of hours they were down in town. If it did, he’d rent them a room at the local hotel and they’d stay there until the weather improved. Not a big deal really.
They went out to the SUV and were on their way down the mountain.
“I’m so excited.”
“I can tell.” He laughed softly as he drove expertly down the steep incline. “I still can’t believe you’ve never been to the movies.”
“There wasn’t any money and nobody to take me.” She repeated something she’d said before, but not with self-pity, she was simply stating a fact.
“What else haven’t you done?” he pondered out loud. He glanced at her swiftly before he put his eyes back on the road. “Have you been to a fair, to a prom? Or a club? Have you ever been to any of those?”
“No, no, no, and no. I think.” She laughed as she answered, amused at how shocked he was. “I lived under a rock, remember? Well, a roof that I barely left. I’d have to travel to Baton Rouge or New Orleans sometimes, maybe down to Houma or over to Sorrento. But I’ve never been so far as I have since I met you. I never went to any of the festivals or fairs, even church fairs. Our church used to have a couple in the spring and summer, just to raise funds for activities with the younger congregation.”
“And then your mother was excommunicated. That must have been tough on you, to lose the church community.” He spoke gently, as if afraid to bring up a sore subject.
“She was, but I wasn’t. I stopped going though, it was too far to walk and she wouldn’t drive me. By the time I was able to drive, I’d lost interest.” Her voice wasn’t bitter, but he saw a tightness around her eyes that she quickly wiped away. “They didn’t help me. They knew what I was living with, but none of them helped.”
“There must have been a lot of people that looked the other way. I don’t know how social services didn’t become involved.” He didn’t want to upset her, but he’d wondered about it often. Why had the state left her there with that horrible woman that had been her mother?
“CPS was called quite often, so maybe some of them did try to help. I was on a first name basis with many of the social workers, but they couldn’t prove I was abused or neglected. I was too afraid of my mother’s wrath to tell them the truth when they came or demanded my mother bring me in. I’d make sure she was sober, fed, and had taken a bath, all the things she’d forget to do, on the days when the social workers came to inspect the house or when she had to take me to them. I was the one that cleaned up her messes, which kept everything tidy. I learned how to use the washer when I was five so I’d have clean clothes for school.” She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It’s weird. I’m angry at people for not helping, but I’d lie to the social services people when they came around.”
“What has your counselor said?” He knew she’d stopped talking to the counselor when they came out to Montana, but she’d kept up a dialogue while they were still in New York, at least online.
“That I was a child. I did what I had to to survive. That I’d probably go through a lot of emotions as time goes by. The five stages of grief and all that.”
“Five stages of grief?” he asked, not sure what that was.
“Yes. I’m not sure who invented it or whatever, but it’s a model of how people deal with grief, usually when they’ve lost a loved one or have been given a terminal diagnosis. Or they’ve had a life like mine.”
“Okay, so what are these stages?”
“Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.” She paused, her lips twisted to the left as she thought about it. “I think it’s more that I’m all over the place at the moment. A lot has happened, hasn’t it?”
“It has. And I’m sorry I’ve only added to the weight you carry, Marie.” He took her hand as they came to a stop sign at the bottom of the mountain. “I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to be, you got me out of that, you know? It’s because of you I can start to deal with all of this; I can grieve, I can heal.” She paused, as if she wanted to say something more, then changed her mind. “You’ve given me the world, Matteo, and I’m glad I get to have all these ‘first times’ with you.”
“I hope you don’t come to regret it, at some point,” he started, but then let her go on when she started to speak. He pulled out onto the road into town and listened to her.
“I think I’m in the anger stage right now. I denied a lot of what I thought and felt, what I experienced. I told myself it was all normal, that I deserved it, even if I sometimes hated my mother. Now, I’m just angry at all of them: her for making me lie, them for not demanding answers from her. I’m angry that it all happened to a child, that a child had to go through that.”
“I guess I was lucky, wasn’t I?” he whispered, but she heard him.
“Were you?” she asked with a pointed look. “Celeste doesn’t sound like she was much better.”
“Does that mean I’m still in denial?” He tried to laugh it off, but she looked away as if she was trying to hold something back. “I had everything I wanted: all the toys, the cars, the clothes, I was allowed to go out…”
“But were you given love, Matteo?” she interrupted and he could hear the anger in her voice now. “Celeste gave you items, belongings, but she denied you love. She was cruel to you. Was that any better than what my mother did?”
She was breathing hard and her cheeks were flushed. He didn’t realize she cared so much. Maybe because nobody ever had before, not like Marie did. It was hard to recognize now.
“I suppose you have a point.” He sat back, his focus on driving but his thoughts racing. “Yeah, I see your point.”
“I’m sorry you had it so rough, Matteo. I want to make that all better for you,” she said and he could hear the emotion that strangled her voice. “I don’t want to make it worse.”