The adult me struggled. (And I must admit, as writer, I began to admire the struggle.) Adrian had her second birthday. After that, Leslie pulled out all the stops. It was not enough that everyone had pain about the break-up of the household. Leslie had to make me pay for my actions in the most damaging way possible.
“You have no legal right to her,” she would say to me referring to Adrian.
“We made an agreement, Leslie, and I expect you to stick to it.”
“I have no agreements with you.” It came as a belated revelation to me that Leslie had no sense of personal ethics and that in fact she had no basic respect for Adrian as an individual with her own needs. “I’m her mother. I know what’s best for her,” Leslie would insist. “She doesn’t need you any more.”
At first, I tried to argue the point. Leslie was unwilling to concede anything. I tried rational persuasion and then in frustration yelled at Leslie—all to no avail. Leslie was unmoved.
I had been willing to continue living with Leslie at first. Recognizing we had little intimacy between us as lovers, I thought merely being roommates was hardly a change. Of course, I was wrong.
Leslie would lie in wait for me to come home to start in on me. I quickly learned that arguing back was pointless. In some instances, I garnered strength to focus on the fact that the real issue was that Leslie was hurt. However, Leslie refused to admit that her reactions were in any way related to her own pain.
Finally, I began to get angry. It was that deep burning rage that rises up in the face of so much abuse. When Leslie would come at me with a verbal assault, I would feel that after all my attempts at communication I now just wanted to hit her.
I could feel in my body how close we were to blows. Perpetuation of my own abuse by exposing Adrian to that kind of behavior was my deepest pain. As a result, I decided the only way to stop this cycle was to remove myself from Leslie’s presence.
This, of course, gave Leslie more options for battering me about not caring enough for Adrian as if Leslie was holding Adrian hostage. But, I knew it was bullshit and resolved to hold myself to the highest standards of behavior in order to not participate in further abuse. (The struggle was on. Somehow, I persisted.)
* * * * * * *
In the way that everything comes to a head at once, the relationship between Rahne and I continued to deepen. When people talk about what means the most to them, more intimacy is bound to occur as it did with me and Rahne.
Also, in the face of Leslie’s attacks, I needed a place to stay with more frequency and began staying at Rahne’s. When Sasifraz was pushing me to the brink of disaster, I was not alone.
* * * * * * *
Like brush strokes across a page, the dawn of change starts slowly but builds up so quickly. Like Rahne and I, Sasifraz and Rahne were building their relationship as well.
During the course of long discussions about the relative merits of Sasifraz continuing to do his job and hurt me, there were spaces where they both realized how much, in fact, they both cared for me.
Sasifraz had been pushing and pulling about his job. “I hate her. It’s my job to kill her.”
“Who gave you that job?” Rahne asked.
“The Dead Man.”
“Joceile’s father? How did he let you know that your job was to kill Joceile?”
Those kinds of questions were always a struggle for Sasifraz to answer. They did not lend themselves easily to one word answers. “He showed me how to kill quite clearly, and if she gets out of line, it’s my job to kill her.”
On and on it went, round and round in circles. But, the circles continued to encompass more area and hence the deepening of intimacy.
“Sasifraz, it’s time for you to change jobs.” Rahne announced.
“I can’t. It’s been my job for a long time.”
“You could have a different job.”
“What different job? I’m trained for this job. I have experience, and I’m good at it.”
“You have lots of skills. You could come up with a different job that you were just as good at.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible.” Sasifraz was resistant.
“Well, just think about it.”
“What kind of new job,” he asked.
“You tell me.”
“Something like being a team player?” He inquired.
“Maybe.”
Finally, Sasifraz said, “You don’t know what will happen if I stop doing my job. I won’t be responsible for what happens. You’ll be on your own.”
“We’ll deal with it.”
Sasifraz paused. “I’ll consider it.”
Somewhere inside both me and Rahne, bells went off. For me, at least, there was a lot of shouting and jumping around inside myself. The words seemed simple, but Sasifraz had just said that he would consider not hurting me.
I had never heard such a thing from Sasifraz before. I had never dreamed that it was possible. After 18 years of Sasifraz always being out to kill me, I had assumed that he was just as inflexible and unyielding as my father. I was wrong.
For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt safe. It was the first time I could remember when I did not feel that somebody was trying to kill me. Suddenly, I felt lighter than air. I could breath.
I also knew that I had my foot in the door for the kind of life I wanted to live. I felt that no matter what Sasifraz said in the future, this was a foundation on which I could build.