Fantasy Pt. 09: Henry the Monster

*****

Back home, it was difficult. Henry wanted to look for an apartment for Alice. Alice didn't. She wanted to stay. How do you work that out? Carefully.

"I know I keep saying the wrong things, but can I ask this one? Can I stay? Just for a while longer? Until I get myself straightened out?"

He was trying to be reasonable. "We need to move on. You know what will happen." You've heard such bargaining.

"I'm sorry for yesterday. I won't do that again. Please. Just a while. I'm not asking for forever."

"For what? Let's get it over with."

"What I said yesterday. I do love you. I do. And I know you love me, at least a little."

"That doesn't get us anywhere, now does it?"

"I've changed, Henry, and I'll get counseling. I can deal with my addiction and become normal. Please let me try it here, with you? I want to make it work! Please let us make it work!"

"There's no thing as a sex addiction."

"It feels like an addiction to me, and there are treatments. I don't want to be like that anymore. Let me stay with you for a while."

"Go make it work with Richard, or with Justine and Juliet. I'm sure you can work everything out just perfectly."

"Please, Henry. Can't we just try? I don't want Richard or Justine or Juliet. I don't want that life. I want our life, if we can have it. If you'd have me. Can I just stay, to find out? We could have sex or not have sex. If we did, we could make love the ordinary way, like two ordinary people who love each other."

Henry let this hang a moment. Why snap back? Let it hang.

"Sure. That would be great. Until some time goes by and you began to remember what you're missing. Or until it hits me again what you've already done. You think it can work? It. Can't. Work! Just stop it! We aren't going to be together!"

"But you called me your prodigal wife! You did. Doesn't that mean there's some hope? A little? All I'm asking for is that hope, Henry. Not a guarantee. Please just give it some time. Time for a second chance? Let me be Alice again and make things better, to make up for what I've done."

"Alice. No. If you really love me, let me go. Don't claw me back into that hole I've been in for months!" She was wearing him down. He was starting to change, the veins, the face, the sweating, the voice, the wolfman, but she didn't back down. No, she went crazy. Crazy? Well, she became desperate, lost her composure, was so afraid that this was the end, just as she'd begun to understand herself, that her desperation overcame her. She went straight at him.

"Hit me then! Hit me! It's okay, Hit me if you have to. Do it! I'll take it if you'll keep me. I'll do it. Hit me!"

"Stop it! I'm not going to hit you."

She bumped herself up against him.

"Do it! I deserve it. Hit me!"

"Stop it!"

"Then kill me!" She did it again. Right at him.

That did it. He threw her to the floor. It was so easy. He raised his foot as though to kick her, but he stopped and put his foot down beside her head. He leaned over to link his hands around her throat but stopped again. There seemed to be a wind blowing straight through the house, loud, like a high-pitched airplane propeller. He said something and grabbed her, got her bra straps and some skin, and picked her up as easily as you could lift a child. He swung her toward the door.

"Get out of here!"

"Hit me. Kill me!"

"Get out!"

"Kill me!"

"Get out!" He pushed her hard enough to make her stagger, and when she saw the en suite door she ran through it, slammed the door, locked it, and began rummaging through the dresser for scissors. She found sharp nail scissors. Gleaming chrome, curved, sharp, perfect. Henry was pounding at the door. "Open it! Open it!" She grabbed the scissors like a knife and jabbed her wrist.

"Ah!" She hadn't understood how much it would hurt. She found a different spot, nearer a vein, opened the scissors up and stabbed again. By now, Henry was pounding on the door. "Alice! Open up, damn it!" She cut with the scissors and blood flowed out, then began spurting. She wanted to cut some more but couldn't force herself to do it and took a breath to build up her resolve before working the scissors again. The blood was running along her arm now, and dripping. The drops were already forming a little puddle on the floor.

Henry was yelling more and now hit the door with his shoulder. "Open it! Open it!" Then he was inside. She tried cutting more but Henry broke the door open and when he saw the scissors and the blood he yelled "No!" and knocked the scissors out of her hand, all the way across the bathroom, along with a clump of skin. He looked like he was going to hit her but what he did was stare at Alice's wrist. Then her face. Then her wrist again. Then at the floor.

"Don't!" He clamped a hand over her wrist, hard, but blood seeped between his fingers anyway, so he used both hands. Alice was struggling. "Let go of me! Let me die!" She was hitting him, and kicking, and squirming, but all he could do was hold her wrist.

"Stop it!" It can only have been a few seconds before he moved one arm around her and pulled her all the way up to him, tightly, so she couldn't hit him. They were both shouting and he held her so tightly she got dizzy.

"You can't hold me forever!" He was so strong.

"Stop it! I will! Stop it!" He couldn't completely staunch the bleeding with one hand.

"You can't! Let me stay! Please let me stay. Only for a while." Something popped near her spine. She was still trying to struggle but was losing.

Henry looked from her wrist to her face. "Look at me!" he yelled. "God damn it look at me!" When she did he stared into her eyes, took a huge breath, and yelled directly into her face. "There! Are! Conditions!" It was the monster's voice.

It became quiet except for their panting.

*****

"What do you mean?" Then "Please. I can't breathe."

He loosened his arm.

"To stay! There are conditions. You can't meet them." It was part Henry's voice.

"I can stay?"

"No! A trial!" His voice dropped. "A trial. We'll try it. We'll see. It won't work and then you'll go away."

"What conditions?"

"First..." He had to order his mind. More blood was seeping between his hand and her wrist, dripping onto their feet. "Come here!" He yanked her by her bad wrist over to the linen closet and grabbed a washcloth. He had to drop her wrist to fold the cloth and the blood came out in a rivulet. Finally, he could press the wad hard against her wrist. She stood absolutely still through all this.

"First, you have to promise to never, ever, try to hurt yourself again."

"And then I can stay?"

"Do you promise?"

"Will you keep me?"

"You have to promise!"

"I promise. Can I stay?"

"There are more. You have to promise to never again do anything like you did with Richard."

"I promise! Please believe me, I'm not the woman I was. You'll see. Your prodigal wife will be the best wife."

"You're not my wife! You're my trial."

"I understand. I do. Maybe your wife!"

"Maybe, maybe not. That means you have to be faithful. Completely."

"I will. I promise."

"No matter how boring our sex is."

"What...it wasn't.... Oh. Oh. I understand." She closed her eyes, then got a look on her face. "I promise this, Henry...listen to me...I pledge it. I'll be completely faithful even if you never want to make love to me again."

And he stood completely still. And relaxed. He reached his free hand to touch her cheek, leaving a smear of blood. His voice became soft and conversational. "I wouldn't hold you to such a pledge."

"But I meant it. Really."

"So do I. You know Richard may want you again. He'll try to get you."

"He can't have me again."

"He did before."

"But now I know his tricks, his ways. And I'll be on guard. And--if he ever tried anything, I'd tell you."

"Yes. All right. That brings us to the next thing. You have to promise to be open and honest with me."

"I will, Henry. I am."

"Yes, but you have desires. You can't help that. They're part of you, and you won't want to bring them to me, but you have to. You have to bring them to me!"

"That's so hard."

"Then the deal is off."

"No! I didn't say I wouldn't do it. It's hard because I've always hidden them, my whole life. But I will. Please. If I can stay."

"I don't mean every little thing. I don't want this to be a prison, Everyone has their private place. But important things. If you ever hear from Richard. If you just see him on the street, anything. Tell me. Or if...if our sex just doesn't work for you. You have to tell me. That's what I mean."

"I promise, Henry. I do."

*****

He was holding her gently now, except for the wrist, and she held her good hand to his cheek.

"There are more. Fourth, or whatever the number, is harder. You have to love me."

"Oh, honey, that's the easiest thing. I promise."

"There will be times when you won't."

"No, there will be times when I'm mad or tired or we're fighting. I'll still love you. I promise."

"No. You can't promise that." When he said that she knew exactly what was coming and that this would indeed be difficult. "You loved me and then you didn't. I was an...obstacle to your trysts, someone to be managed The guy you walked out on. You didn't love me then."

Here's no real answer to that, is there? What could Alice possibly say, since that's exactly what had happened? People pledge their eternal love, but it evaporates. It's just words. Where does it go? Sometimes people try to rekindle it and sometimes they're successful. They reconnect. It happens. Or at least they come to an understanding, an agreement, an arrangement, something that works well enough for them. Often they don't. All of them learn, firsthand, about these things, and they're wiser for all that. Henry and Alice knew it but she'd forgotten it in the glow of realizing Henry might let her stay, and he'd just rudely brought it back to her attention, rubbed her nose in it, so to speak. People ultimately know that while they cannot always promise a feeling--they cannot always be the 'love of his life', as the obituaries always say--they can hold to a commitment. What Alice had done, really, was abandon her commitment. What in the world could she say to that?

"I can't. I can't guarantee anything. Whatever I say you can doubt. But please try to believe this. I've been thinking hard on it, and what it comes down to is that I did become like an addict. Richard brought it out somehow and then fed it. It pushed everything else away, including my love for you. It wasn't complete. I would suddenly wonder about you, and wonder how you were, and if you were enjoying your new girlfriend. The nonexistent one. That's not real love. I'm so sorry, Henry. And I won't apologize for saying 'I'm sorry,' because that's what I'm sorriest about.

He listened. Both his hands were now on her bad wrist which didn't seem to be bleeding.

"I love you now. I swear that's true. I'm going to get counseling, I read about 12-step programs. I know one of my steps is to make amends to all those I've hurt, and I owe you so very much in the way of amends, my darling--whether you keep me or not. But please let me stay."

Henry listened quietly. He wanted to get through this quickly because Alice's hand had begun to swell and he wanted to get her to the ER.

"I believe you. But it could fade. People can do what they want, but no one can want what they want. I don't want a loveless marriage." Alice started to say something and he cut her off. "Please. Let me finish. If you find that you are falling out of love again, the promise to be open and honest comes into play. You have to bring it to me and we have to talk about it and deal with it together. Okay?"

"I will. And the same goes for you. Please? If your feelings change you have to tell me."

"I promise. And let's get to the fifth condition. Counselling. We'll go to counseling together." Alice heard the word 'together' and her heart soared. "You to recover from this and to come to terms with your sexuality. I have to try to recover from this. And come to terms with our sexualities. And fix myself to the point I don't have to worry that I could hurt you."

She was uncertain how to say this but, "You'll have to tell the counselor a lot of things too, you know."

"I know. It's worth it to not worry I'd hurt you again. Okay. Okay. There's one more thing."

What else could there be?

"I want us to have children."

Now where in hell did that come from? There's nothing about kids anywhere in this story. Go back and re-read. No? Then take my word for it. Henry's been holding back on me. Children? Or, as Alice put it,

"Children? I didn't know you wanted children. You never said anything."

"Yes or no?"

"When did you decide this?"

"Yes or no? I've wanted them for a long time. I never brought it up. I've kept things hidden too. I want a full family--and it's the right time to decide it, before we go any further. If you don't want kids, I understand. You don't have to leave. You can stay here while we work things out, and we can stay close. But for a wife, I want someone who wants children, and if I have to start looking further afield I will. But you're right. I love you. I want you for my wife. So, I want us to have kids."

"How many do you want? Is that part of my promise?"

"Three."

"Three?"

"Three."

"Could we begin with one and work our way up?"

Henry's face, well it lit up. How do you describe that? He smiled and took his free hand and held it to Alice's cheek while he gave her a very, very sweet kiss, and left a bloody hand-print on her face.

"It seems reasonable."

"Could we maybe start trying tonight?"

"Yes. And one last thing. If we break up, I get the children."

"We're not going to break up. Not again."

"Just so you know. And I think trying to start a family tonight is a wonderful idea. But first, let's get your bloody wrist to the ER."

"How will we explain it to them?"

"I'm sure it happens all the time."

*****

So, they're both saps. No? Yes? But it might just work out for them. Some will think Alice got away with shameful behavior, but I don't think she got away with a damned thing. She did--and enjoyed--shameful things, and she hurt Henry terribly, but she paid terrible prices, too: failing again and again, being humiliated, raped and battered, being afflicted with PTSD, cut off from people she'd been close to, and seemingly losing part of her mind. If not for that sap Henry, she really might have ended up as a crack whore living--and dying--on the streets, which some readers would have preferred, instead of what she actually became--well, look below. I won't nominate Henry for sainthood, not being a Catholic, but to my mind he became a Mensch that weekend. Look it up.

*****

Neither of them was ever certain how serious Alice was about killing herself. Did she mean it, or half mean it, did she do it out of sheer desperation, or was it a powerful stunt? I vote for desperation. Whatever, it worked. It must have been in the tenth year of their 'trial,' one night when all the kids were asleep and they'd just finished fucking, that Henry asked her:

"Did you really mean to kill yourself?"

He was holding her left hand and kissing the scar on her wrist as he often did.

She answered: "I don't know, honey. I was crazy."

"The therapist never, ever used that word."

"But we both knew what she meant. And I was the luckiest crazy lady in Vegas, because you took me in and kept me until I could be fixed."

"She didn't think you were so lucky. She thought I was going to be whipping you again."

"She never said that."

"But we both knew it."

"Anyway, you could. A little. If you ever wanted to."

"I think maybe you're still a little crazy."

"Your crazy lady adores you." Alice caressed Henry's cheek, gave him a kiss, then moved her mouth all the way down his body, slowly, to his penis, to see if she could get him up enough for another round.

*****

What about Richard? This is a very sad part of the story. It is sad because nothing happened to Richard. Just as bad things happen to good people, so a lot of truly awful people have great lives and die old in bed. That seems likely to be Richard's fate. Perhaps some other tortured family will shoot him or blow him up or poison him, but Henry and Alice aren't cunning enough to do that and get away with it, and they're happy enough in their post-Richard lives to leave all that behind. They have never seen him or heard from him again and he's become an ever more distant part of their past. Oh, you can't completely miss him. He'll occasionally turn up in the society pages at a major fundraiser or a hoity-toity country club party. He has yet another new trophy wife who will be there with him and about whose experiences we can hardly guess. I take that back. Of course we can. Richard also makes regular donations to both political parties, and because he's careful with age verification he hasn't ever run into any Jeffrey Epstein issues. Though you never know.

I suppose karma could get him to catch some terrible, lingering disease, but good people get those, too, so it wouldn't mean much if he died of, say, pancreatic cancer. Too many good people die of it. Getting shot still seems to be the best option. Maybe he'll get in trouble with a Mexican drug cartel. Or we could just forget about him. Which I plan to do.

End.