“When I told Eli, he was so happy. He hugged me, twirled me around the room. He said he was proud of me. He was my lovable Eli.” Carrie looked back at the floor. “Then he said he wanted to move to Bala Cynwyd. That it was a better place to raise kids than Wynnefield.”
Irene shifted in her seat and Lillian blew out a breath. Between them, six children were being raised here.
“I said I didn’t want to move. That was it.”
“What’s the problem? It’s literally across City Line Avenue,” Harriet said.
Ruth really wasn’t sure how long she’d last without punching Harriet, or at least wrestling her to the ground like her brothers might. Even in a situation like this, the woman point-blank refused to understand what was at stake.
“I don’t have a car and I don’t know anyone there. I’ve finally made friends.” Carrie looked at each of them. “I don’t want to move. And that’s what I told him.”
“That’s your right,” Ruth said, and glared at Harriet.
“He accused me of awful things. Asked me if the baby was his, said he wouldn’t raise the milkman’s son. Called me an ungrateful bitch. Then he slapped me, and I stumbled backward and fell over a kitchen chair.”
The women grimaced in unison. Carrie gingerly lifted her blouse, revealing black-and-blue ribs, as if needing to provide proof. “Honestly, if it was just me, I wouldn’t care.”
This was the saddest thing Ruth had ever heard. Carrie was willing to take a beating to stay married to this man. As if her own safety and happiness didn’t count.
“But the baby . . . ,” Carrie said.
“Are you bleeding?” Shirley asked.
Ruth blinked, not sure what to make of Shirley’s question. Was she concerned about medical problems, or was she gauging whether anyone would believe Carrie without the sign of blood?
“Any pains in your stomach?” Shirley persisted.
“No.”
Harriet gave an exaggerated sigh. “You know, he has to live in the city to work at the high school, right? Maybe—”
Harriet’s willful ignorance was too infuriating to bear. Ruth snapped, “Maybe what?”
Harriet ignored her and dug in. “C’mon. If he’s so bad, why did you stay? And why did you sleep with him?”
“How dare you question Carrie’s—” Ruth’s face felt hot and was likely redder than her lipstick.
“Stop, both of you,” Irene said. “We can’t know what this is like.”
The women fell silent. Irene was right.
“I love him,” Carrie said. “He was fixated on moving away—he wouldn’t let it go. Said he didn’t care what his school contract said—that he’d get out of any restriction.”
“Entitled bastard,” Shirley whispered.
A tiny gasp left Ruth’s lips before she realized it. Her mother-in-law. The etiquette-stand-by-your-husband queen.
“What else happened?” Irene asked.
“What makes you think anything else happened?” Harriet said.
Irene shrugged. “Something must explain a onetime outburst like that.”
Ruth tried to decide what to say. Irene knew there had been previous attacks. But if Ruth spoke up, and the other girls didn’t show any surprise, Carrie would know they’d talked about her, that Ruth had betrayed her trust. There was no sense in piling more pain on this drastically wounded woman, so Ruth remained silent. These girls didn’t understand because they hadn’t seen what Ruth saw in New York. She wanted to defend Carrie, but that was not important. What was important was to help Carrie get out.
Lillian’s face had faded from peach to gray. “One time is one too many.” Her words were coughed out, scratchy, after a too-long silence.
At last, someone was making sense.
“You’re right. So we have to call the police,” Irene said.
“I said no!” Carrie said. “That would jeopardize his job.”
“Until he hits you again. I think the police is the only way to go. At the least, it will keep Eli on his toes. Let him know he’s being watched.”
Shirley’s scoff was full of contempt. “The system won’t help her. They’ll take his word over hers.”
Ruth had no idea that Shirley would know about the law. She looked at her mother-in-law anew.
“He’s allowed to do this?” Lillian asked, her eyes wide.
“Absolutely,” Shirley said.
Lillian put her hands on her hips as if she were challenging this new side of Shirley. “And how do you know?”
“It’s not so much allowed as tolerated,” Ruth said. “He’d have to kill her to get in any real trouble.”
Carrie gasped.
Lillian slapped her hand over her mouth, muffling a yelp.
Ruth’s heart pounded, her indignation rising with each thump. They couldn’t let this happen to Carrie and the baby.
Carrie, pale beneath her bruises, stared at Ruth.
Silent sobs clogged Ruth’s throat. If only she could make Carrie leave Eli. But she couldn’t. It was all up to Carrie.
No one spoke. The passing of the occasional car, the chirping of a bird, all sounds seemed to be louder than normal in this room of anticipation. This room of fear.
Fancy food, pretty clothes, ample money, and higher education didn’t matter—and etiquette could go to hell. There was a beaten woman in their living room. Were even these privileged women powerless to help?
Shirley left the room and headed for the kitchen.
Where did Shirley go, just when they all needed her?
Guilt swallowed Ruth. She’d have known the Pennsylvania laws and precedents if she had finished studying for the bar exam—or she’d have access to them through professors, and librarians, and fellow students. She’d have the same kind of connections and insights she’d left in New York. The particulars she’d lost amidst the picnics and lunches and shopping trips.
They sat in silence as Shirley returned with a bag of frozen peas and gently placed it over Carrie’s bruises. After five minutes according to the wall clock—what seemed like five hours according to Ruth’s internal clock—Carrie finally spoke. “You have no idea how hard this is.”
Shirley gently rearranged the frozen peas over another spot, so Carrie’s skin didn’t get too cold in any one place. “I do. I know it’s hard,” Shirley said, training her eyes on Carrie.
Ruth was surprised and touched by Shirley’s compassion, by her attempt to show camaraderie in order to help this poor girl she barely knew.
“How could you possibly know? No one knows how hard it is.” Carrie’s voice was a whisper, but that whisper was tinged with anger.
“Because it happened to me,” Shirley said.
Chapter 25
LILLIAN
The room fell silent. The faces around Lillian showed disbelief, confusion, irritation, and shock. And, in her own case, hopefully nothing at all. Lillian deliberately arranged her expression into something as blank as a whitewashed wall, though beneath her coral silk blouse her heart was pounding.
Lillian was sure she’d misheard, or at least misunderstood. Shirley was her best friend. She’d been here in Shirley’s living room countless times over the years. Things like that didn’t happen to people like them; they weren’t beaten by their husbands, weren’t abused. Not here.