What goes around comes around (Lily’s Story) Read Free Page B

knock back, I watched his bitterness seem
to grow exponentially, and we all suffered for it at home, creating a toxic
environment the family had to live in.  In the meantime, I carried a full-time
job and parenthood.
    If I’m honest I would say Greg was, and is, resentful of any
paltry success I may have had despite it being a million miles away from the
writing career I had always imagined for myself.  What I’ve found hardest,
though, is that eventually his constant belittling of my achievements has rubbed
off on my beloved boys.  They believe his propaganda: that I have been a bad
mother for prioritising my career above their care, making them feel neglected
despite the need for income to put food on the table and presents in their
stockings at Christmas.  The tirade of criticism from Greg has become a chorus,
as the boys are now old enough to join in, and I have become just too weary to
fight back.  The only constants in our married life as the years have ticked by
have been sex and criticism, and sometimes (if I am really unlucky) both.  Greg
still likes sex most nights, and if I dare to suggest I might be tired, he claims
it as his right.  Most of the time I just let him, as he doesn’t need much
involvement from me to get what he wants, but sometimes I get angry and resist. 
On those occasions Greg usually gets off on it.  He actually seems to like it more
when I put up some resistance; it brings a fire into his eyes which I don’t
normally see there.  The sex is passionate in a way that our sex life usually isn’t,
and it’s on those rare occasions that I have very occasionally orgasmed. The
first time had been such a surprise after so many years without that I had
cried, partly due to guilt; regretting I had responded physically to such
dominant, controlling behaviour and feeling I had failed womankind somehow by enjoying
it, and partly because of the immense joy I felt from experiencing such a
beautifully intense sensation and release.  I don’t think Greg even noticed. 
    I have no idea how much the people around us, our so-called
friends, know about the reality of our lives, but I put on a good show and have
genuinely tried to do the best I can for all three of them, whatever their
criticism of me.  To most onlookers, I guess Greg and I seem to have a happy
marriage with staying power. In truth, I just don’t think I have the energy to
go anywhere.
    If I think back, I believe it was when the boys had their eighteenth
birthday that something inside of me finally clicked.  My maternal duty felt
like it was done, and somehow it seemed permissible to put myself first again. 
Hence my awakening: allowing myself to hear and listen to the words spoken by the
lady on the T.V., followed by the resulting trip to the gym. While my critical
inner demons tell me I am insane to think there is any point in trying to do
anything about my life, that it’s essentially already over and that I should
really just crawl into a corner and sit there quietly for the remainder of my
days, there is still a small kernel of hope inside me which tells me to try,
that I still have something to offer the world, that I am good at my job and
could be good at other things if I tried. 
    As I head out the door of the gym to get back into my car,
having dried and dressed myself back into the anonymous uniform of my daily
life, it feels as if the kernel of hope has grown slightly, nourished by the
time spent exercising my body, and I resolve to go again.  I wave at Stuart, who
is just leaving the building as I drive away, and I wince as I graze the hubcap
on the kerb due to my lack of attention to the road.  I glance in my rear-view
mirror, hoping I got away without him seeing anything, only to catch sight of him
grinning at my departing car.

Chapter 3
    As I push my key into the front door I can hear the sound of
raised voices coming from inside, and the positive glow I have been feeling dies
a little.  Greg is inside – he