Page 95 of Leviticus
The drive home was the longest of my life, or so it felt. I parked the car in the driveway, turning to look at my wife. She looked lost, looked dazed, confused. Whatever word I used, it did not feel right. Regardless, she was not okay, therefore; we were not okay.
“Ruth —” I began, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she turned away, exiting the car and walking up the front steps to the door. I took a deep breath and followed, quickly unlocking the door. I wanted to give her space and time to process, but we needed to talk. We needed to get to the bottom of this, of us, of whatever those women had put into her head to make my beautiful Ruth like this.
“Ruth, we need to talk,” I began slowly, carefully, after I had locked the front door. She was standing in the entryway of our home and finally, finally —- she looked at me.
I don’t know what I had expected, but to see anger in her eyes was the last thing I could have imagined.
“No,” she almost hissed, cutting me off. My jaw hung open. I could feel it. And no words came out.
“No, I don’t want to talk. No more talking. I want to scene.” Her eyes were glued to mine. There was something there, in their dark depths, that I almost missed. Yes, there was anger. There was something dark, but underneath it, just in a flash, I saw it. Pain. Loss. Sadness.
I righted my posture, squaring my shoulders. My wife needed her Dominant right now. I could see it, plain as day, but now was not the time. While I couldn’t be her Sir just yet, I could give her some security in the little things. In my tone, in my presence, in even something inconsequential as my posture. I could show her that she was safe and that I was here.
“No, Ruth. We cannot scene right now. Right now, we need to talk. And I promise you, it will be worth it,” I tried again, keeping my tone firm and even. I could see it inside of her, the way her eyes almost instantly welled up, but she shook it away, choosing the anger again. It made sense. Anger was an easier emotion to latch onto than almost any other emotion. I swore all those days ago to be there for her, to help her. I would not back down now when times got hard.
“No, no more talking. I can’t talk anymore. Not after — I can’t…” she spoke in staccato phrases, disjointed words strung together as she tried to make sense of the things surely racing through her mind. I wanted to run to her. I wanted to take her into my arms and erase all of the bad things that were plaguing her. And I would, in time. But first, it was time for Ruth to learn a lesson. A lesson in open communication.
“Ruth, I’m here, but you have to talk to me. I am a safe place for you to say anything you need to say. But I cannot stress enough how important it is to speak. To open up and let me help carry the burden you are feeling from whatever happened today,” I begged of her. Communication was a two-way street and, while I knew this would be difficult for her, it was crucial for our relationship.
“Ruth, I am ready to tell you everything. To answer every question, to be as raw and vulnerable as I can be with you. I trust you.” I watched as my words sunk in, as her facial expression changed. Her eyes welled once more with unshed tears as she collapsed on the hardwood floor of our entryway. I wanted to go to her side, but right now, this wasn’t about my needs. It was about hers.
It was her time.
CHAPTER22
LEVITICUS
I watched her gather herself, struggling to put the words together from the jumbled mess I imagined they posed in her mind.
“I see it,” she finally whispered after a long pause. I shrugged off my coat, tossing it behind me and sat cross-legged on the floor before her.
“See what?” I asked gently. I sat there with my forearms on my thighs, my hands palm up, doing my best to show her I was open to her words, to her truth.
“I see what I think you have been talking about. And if that is what you meant, then I think I understand what you haven’t told me.” Her words came out in a rush.
“What do you see?” I reiterated, not pushing, just letting her know I was here and I was following.
“Everything. I knew, in those first days here after we were wed that you were different from the few men I knew in Zion. You are night and day different from my father, but I thought perhaps that was just one occurrence. It is no surprise to anyone that my father is a stern man with rigid values. But today — with those women…” she trailed off, lost in her thoughts again.
“What happened?” I begged again.
“They are all like that. Every one of them. Every single man is the head of his home.” Her tone was defeated, and I couldn’t quite tell why.
“Yes, that is how things are in Zion,” I stated, trying to fit in the blanks and discover what had her looking so… so heartbroken.
“But that isn’t okay!” she fought, her hands fisting at her sides as the tears that had been welling in her eyes began to trail down her cheeks.
I stayed silent, just lying in wait for her words to spill out.
“The men here, and I’m not trying to be mean to you or your family, but they just all treat their women like… like…like shit!” The curse flew out of her mouth and I felt the pride well up inside of me.
“My entire morning was filled with ways in which I need to serve my husband. Tips and tricks to keeping him happy and — get this — ways to redirect his anger so that he will take his violence out on me and not the children! The children, Levi!” Her sobs tore at my very soul.
“This is why we made the right choice. This is why we cannot have a child right now. How could we ever have a child?! To be brought up like this? Oh, Lord have mercy, what if we were to have a daughter? What if…” I saw her eyes flitting back and forth as the thoughts all came together. This was painful. I knew it personally. To look at your home, your loved ones, the life you had desired for yourself and to see it for what it truly was. She was deconstructing her entire world right before my eyes.
“How could we ever put our daughter through a wedding, Levi?” she whispered with such pain lacing her voice that I felt it cut through me like a knife. “Through the inspection? The consummation? I could never, Levi. I just… I couldn’t. And I’m sorry.”
That last part confused me.
