There Are Always More

I had gotten lucky. It had been almost 7 months since last time. Part of me knew it would happen sooner or later though. Richard came home early from work. That was usually the first sign. But I just kept telling myself not this time.
“I want to go out to the bar with Jack and Lisa tonight.”
“Do I have to go? My ankles are sore.”
“Yeah you have to go. You can’t drink with that belly, but you sure as hell can drive me there and back.”
“Alright,” I sighed. I did not want to take him, but I honestly didn’t think it would happen. We were almost there on this one.

We stayed until they closed the bar. Was it 1:00? Or maybe it was 3:00? I can’t remember. All I know is I was so tired I could barely hobble out to the parking lot. And Richard was so drunk Jack had to carry him to the truck.
“Donna, just…just be careful,” Jack said, shutting Richard‘s door. I could hear the edge in his voice. I smiled half-heartedly.
“We’ll be fine.” Jack and Lisa knew who I was talking about. They drove off. I knew they were worried and I was too. But I knew it would be okay. It just had to be.
Somehow, we made it into the house. Richard and I fell into the bed simultaneously, without even taking off our shoes. I slept deeply, undisturbed by Richard’s tossing and turning. I’m not sure which woke me up first: his yelling or his fists.
“You look better when you’re thinner, Tanya! You look better when you’re thinner!” Richard shouted as his fists pumped repeatedly into my bloated belly. Every time it happened he screamed the same thing.
Tanya was the only woman he ever loved. He turned to drinking the day after she left him. She decided to run off with the long-haired guitar salesman down next to the corner store. From what I hear, they’re doing great. By day they play the blues on the streets of New Orleans, entrancing tourists out of their wallets. By night they roam Bourbon Street, lost in the deafening boom of the clubs and lost in each other. My brother also tells me she plays a mean tambourine, though he‘ll never be able to teach her guitar. But I don’t tell Richard a thing.
Finally, he woke up enough to realize what he was doing to me. Again. He got that deer-in-headlights look and got up.
“Donna…I…I…,” he stammered. But it was already too late.
“God damn it! Just go,” I screamed, hot saline pouring down my face. I could feel the wet flesh kissing the inside of my thighs. There was no need to call an ambulance. It was gone. I reached for the phone anyway.

“Jack,” I said, my voice cracking, “I need you.”
“I’ll be right over. Don’t move.”
It only took him ten minutes. Then he was there, holding me in the puddle of lost life. He rocked me back and forth, cooed soothingly to me, and wiped my face. “Her name was going to be Susan,” was all I could say.
The bath he drew me was warm. When I got out, every trace of the misfortune had been erased. He’d changed the sheets and all. To this day, I still don’t know what he does with them. Richard walked back into the room, looking at Jack and I pleadingly.
“It’s okay Jack,” I said, “You can go.”
He turned and left without a word. I’m glad I didn’t see his eyes.

Richard took off my damp bathrobe and pulled me onto him, onto the clean bed.
“We’ll make another one. We’ll make another one right now.” I gave into his arms and nuzzled against his tear-stained face. He slipped between my bare legs, our electric skin rubbing together lightly. He was right, we could always make another.