I read this rumor.
Jackie Kennedy was beaten by her husband.
No not John.
Although there are ways to "beat" a woman other than with your fists.
(Whispered gossip about a cheating husband can be just a brutal.)
No, it wasn't John.
He just cheated.
The one I'm talking about was Onassis.
Her second husband.
At least that was the rumor.
Is it true?
I don't know.
I just read it somewhere.
But if it is true, I've got to ask:
Why did she stay?
She was wealthy. Famous.
She had friends who'd take her in.
"Do I need therapy?"
His word hung there in the dark like those little "stars" you see as you're about to pass out. At first she thought she'd said them. That inside voice of hers had finally emerged into the real world but, no, he'd said them. The obvious answer was, "Yes." What he'd done, shoving her into the door, was wrong. His anger, that had been building, finally came out into the world. It showed there in his face. I wasn't the anger about work or all the politics, it was anger at her. He really didn't like her. Not at all.
So he shoved all the anger and resentment and her down the hall and into that door.
It was wrong.
She sat and listened to the quiet. Afraid that the wrong answer would do more harm that not saying anything at all, she crawled over to her side of the bed and closed her eyes. Tight. Lying there in the dark, she gave him the only answer she could,
"No. It would get you in trouble."
He couldn't go to therapy. The outside world was in a mess. Where would she go? To her parents? They'd already told her that there was no place for her in their home. She should grow up, handle her own problems, and go back home. All she'd asked was to come visit them but they said no. She'd have to stay because at the moment there was no place else to go. Beside she hardly saw him as it was. He was always busy with work or his important things. As long as there was a hot meal and clean towels in the linen closet, he'd be okay. She'd just stay out of his way.
My relationships have been difficult. I'm not sure why but maybe it's because -- I don't know. It's trite to blame my parents but I do think that it began there. No, they didn't hit me. They were way to busy. I was just there. The dumpy kid that never quite met expectations.
If I could draw a picture of it?
It would be my heart sitting on a window ledge. There it sits in that window high up in a tower. The tower surrounded by a moat full of cyinical pirrahna fish. The magic world to lower the bridge guarded by a sphinx. There where the heart of the sphinx should be would be a video screen playing continous showings of "The Merchant of Venice".
Hugs. If you're lucky enough to have someone who you love? Hug them close and whisper sweet nothings in their ear.
"Listen. Do you want to know a secret..."
* from a novel in progress by author, c ann ford. 10/28/10 all rights reserved by the author.
*A from biography of Jackie Kennedy Onassis