Continued from Chapter 2
Lisbette's disappointment eventually disappeared even though it would never be forgotten. She never did find another activity that would be fun and so she poured herself in her studies. As a treat for her seventeenth birthday and for being a bright student, her father took her to her first professional football game in Manchester. He had been saving up for the trip for months and had made all the necessary arrangements for the trip.
Lisbette was in ecstasies as she watched the players intently, studying their moves, their tactics, watching the officials. The game was intense and she felt every dribble and every hit. Patrick loved seeing the look on his girl's face as she took it all in. Her love for the sport made him proud.
When they got back home, Lisbette was all sorts of energy and laughing and reliving every moment. Patrick was sure that she would never sleep that night. But the minute he went to check on her, she was out. He could swear he saw a smile on her face.
He entered his own room to see it empty. Vivian was gone again, which didn't surprise him. He learned to forgive her for her vices even though he wasn't sure what had caused them. She was his wife and he was with her in sickness and health. He only wished he knew when her sickness would end.
One Sunday morning he woke up and fixed a quick breakfast for his daughter who decided to spend a day with a friend and her parents. When he decided to go back to bed, he found Vivian passed out on one of the chairs in the living room. She was still fully dressed and curled up on her side.
"Vivian," Patrick called while trying to shake her awake. Each time, it was more insistent and eventually, she opened her eyes. She turned to him and he gasped. "Jesus Peace! What the hell happened to you?"
Vivian felt a vague ache on her face. She felt around, clumsily walking her fingers around her cheek and eye, wincing when she hit a particularly tender spot. She could only imagine what she looked like based on Patrick's expression. She moved her tongue around her mouth. It felt cottony and tasted sour. Her head pounded and her body ached more in some places than others.
Despite all of this, Vivian managed a weak joke. "It must have been a night to remember." She tried to get up and grimaced at the acute pain that shot through her side, making her hiss sharply. When she lifted up her shirt, she saw a multi-colored bruise the size of a saucer.
Patrick shook his head as he looked at his wife. What did you do? He silently asked. It was one thing to drink and gamble but the bruises were a signal of something more sinister. Patrick was afraid but relieved their daughter was gone. While many of their neighbors had already gone to church, he had chosen to stay with his wife to make sure she was well.
Putting her hand across his shoulders, he gently lifted her from the chair and together they went into the kitchen. From the wooden icebox he chipped a piece of ice, placed it in a towel, and gently positioned it over her eye and upper cheek.
"This should reduce the swelling," he told her as he replaced his hand with hers. He lifted her shirt and examined the bruise. Being a teacher, he was all too familiar with injuries like these and was up to date on the latest forms of first aid. He pressed the bruise and Vivian yelped, giving him a sharp look. "Sorry. I need to check for any hardness which could mean internal bleeding." There was none. He searched for the kit he stored under the kitchen sink and bandaged Vivian's midsection.
Patrick tried to lift her dress and she stayed his hand, her eyes wide with fear. "No. Don't."
"Vivian, you're my wife." His eyes pleaded with her. "You have nothing to hide from me. I love you."
Vivian could see the love Patrick was trying to give and covered herself. Her soft rejection of him and his resigned sigh made her want to hide even more than she already did. She knew what she was doing, how she treated him, but there was some force in her that demanded this level of penance for her sins. "Well, you shouldn't, Patrick. I'm no good. Not for anyone or anything." Holding her stomach, she ambled from the kitchen, leaving him to watch her go.
For nearly twenty years they had been husband and wife. In the beginning, it had been new and happy. When Lisbette was born, he had expected their desire to wane as it did for many, but having a child had brought them closer together as they enjoyed both their brand new baby girl and each other with a more profound awareness of what love really was.
Then, in what seemed like a flash, she pulled away from him. Vivian wouldn't allow him to touch her or even make love to her. Eventually they succumbed to their passion out of desperate need and for a brief moment, he felt their connection, which gave him hope. When they had finished making love Vivian would practically sprint from the bed and hide in the bathroom. When he would knock, he would hear her sobbing. Patrick begged her to talk to him but she pushed him away, telling him that she was no good for him.
The drinking started, the fights got more heated until her drunkenness became routine. In the dark of night, when he went to bed alone, wondering where she was, he blamed himself for making her feel that way. He would spend his days distracted, his nights searching. It was exhausting. Eventually, he was comforted with the fact that she always found her way back home and was never gone for more than a night. It was something to hang on to, especially when he felt the love of his life pulling away. He vowed that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make her feel the way she should. In her, he still saw the woman who made his heart leap at first sight all those years ago.
As he put the supplies away, there was a heavy knock at the door. He looked outside and saw two men. He walked to the door...
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