It was six years of marriage. Eddie worked at the same job he had for years as a courier, the same work he did before he and Jill met. He drove for independent delivery services, traveling both local and long distances, carrying both large and small packages. He didn’t know how to maintain or repair his own vehicles, so he and Jill were over their heads in debt, always living hand to mouth. Eddie had to acquire a new car, truck, or van once a year. He worked many hours, and when he wasn’t working, sleeping, or eating, he was reading the newspaper or watching TV. Cans of beer scattered the living area, and a tall stack of newspapers lay beside Eddie’s self-designated armchair. Eddie liked to work all the time because it got him out of the house.
Jill liked to talk. She wanted to be closer; Eddie wanted more distance. He watched TV and ignored her, though she never stopped trying to engage him in conversation. Jill herself was never much interested in staring at the television set like a hypnotized mound of clay, brainless, motionless.
But she knew that when Eddie lived with his mother and sister, he learned to shut them out, to block out their endless chatter, loud conversation, and screaming and yelling. He was also passive aggressive. Yet he was an easygoing man. He possessed much stability, equanimity. Jill believed that was the main ingredient that made the marriage successful. Two volatile people, she knew, in the same household, was disaster. In her own first home, she and her father – and the rest of her family - were cutthroat. All of the sadism – each of the five family members reaching for the psychological jugular – was something Jill was forced to survive. She considered the marriage a welcome and needed rest. Eddie was not a mean or vicious person. He liked his peace and harmony, forgave quickly, and rarely became angry. Jill was in love with this man, but not quite sure why.
Eddie was a Mama’s boy. Elinor had him tangled in her bobby pins. She dominated him by asking him to change a light bulb that was too high for her to reach, take out a garbage bag that was too heavy for her to carry, lift their massively obese dog and haul him into the bathtub, fix an answering machine (that had somehow come unplugged), pry open a coffee can that was too difficult to open. Elinor never ran out of tasks for her son to perform; he was captured. He made runs to her house as if he was her own on-call courier, handyman, and close companion.
In their first apartment together, Jill and Eddie lived only a mile away from Elinor, and this warning was slow to penetrate Jill’s awareness. But Jill tolerated Eddie’s mother-doting, though she intensely disliked Elinor.
When Eddie and Jill set out looking for a house of their own, Eddie wanted to buy one two doors down from his mother’s house. It was Elinor’s idea; the old woman became elated when the nearby house went up for sale. No doubt the old bag would have helped pay for the place. Jill refused to even look at the house. Eddie later admitted that the idea had been a mistake, but Jill was disgusted, and had raised a storm of opposition. Her response was, “Not no but hell no.”
Eddie’s mother and his sister, Linda, lived like a married couple, glued together in co-dependence like pollywogs in a mud bank. Linda had many serious health and medical conditions, which were the excuse more than the problem. The tragedy was the sick mental deficiency that arose from total and unconditional dependence on a 75-year-old mom, a mom who would jump to her feet at her daughter’s endless needs. Linda was loud. Would Elinor ever tell her to fetch her own blanket or nightgown? Or to answer a ringing phone, make a phone call, turn off her alarm clock, or put a bagel in the microwave? The mom’s needs were greater than the daughter’s. Elinor was such a needy woman, she ruined her daughter’s personality by making her so dependent.
“Ma! Ma!” Linda screamed over the loud buzzing, “The timer on the stove is going off! (as if the whole neighborhood couldn’t hear), Spot needs to go out, I want my housecoat!”
Elinor complained and yelled in return, “Okay, Linda, for God’s sake, just a minute!” She fulfilled every one of her daughter’s demands, perpetuating the dependence to a grotesque degree. Linda spent so much time lying on the couch that it eventually became difficult for her to walk, and she began refusing to leave home. She would no longer accompany her mother to play Bingo or to lunch with her mother’s friends. Her muscles atrophied, and her sense of balance and coordination faltered. She gained weight. An outsider might at first perceive Linda as mentally retarded, but intelligence-wise, Linda had a clear mind, a good memory, and could name every actor and actress on TV, and talk about his or her life story in detail. She was a caring person. She wanted to know what was going on in people’s lives in order to be helpful, but unfortunately, Linda was naïve, unaware of the true facts, most notably Eddie’s lies.
Jill often enjoyed chatting with Linda, but when it came to the mother, it was an entirely different scenario. Having her daughter at home to care for, and Linda’s role as captive companion, wasn’t enough for Elinor. Elinor needed the constant company of her son as well. Elinor often peered into the room, or walked in, while Jill and Linda were having their discussions.
There was always the denial - the superficiality and the lies - never an admission of true reasons or motives. Eddie lied to Elinor constantly, and the old woman was conveniently oblivious. The hidden truths meant nothing to her; they were only something she’d have to deal with, which was a quite aversive notion to her, and she preferred that the facts never come out in the open.
Elinor revealed only a persona, she was a fake, and it took some time for Jill to get to know the person behind the facade. The old woman strived to make appearances equal to reality; she was too weak to confront or accept any negative quality she might possess. She wanted to dress in the most favorable clothes, wear the correct makeup, smoke in the most ‘in’ places, strive for what was socially most acceptable, always aiming for the proper etiquette, to fit in and be “one of the girls.” Elinor made an issue of, “having a tan, so you don’t have to wear stockings.” Jill had heard this many times before. But Jill could see that this facet of Elinor was not always so hollow, that Elinor knew her own game, and had trouble accepting this part of herself. Nevertheless, these were her concerns, the mask she hid behind, the mask that kept her from living an ugly life. ‘Ignorance is sweet bliss,’ when it came to her two children as well as herself. She hurt her family the most.
In spite of Elinor’s tremendous failings, she cooked and prepared meals for the elderly, helped care for the disabled, and drove meals over to the dwellings of geriatrics who had little means of taking care of themselves. Elinor was a two-sided coin: one marred, black, and tarnished, the other side shiny and bright.
Once, when the small family was sitting together in the living room, Elinor made a statement about herself, “Gee, I don’t know why Spot is so fat,” she mused.” I don’t feed him very much.” Jill almost choked on her cigarette smoke and couldn’t conceal her outrage. Linda shouted, “Ma, ya do, too!” Jill was so grateful for this remark, she wanted to grab Linda and kiss her on the forehead.
Facts were foreign to Elinor and Eddie, but for Linda, the truth was not suppressed. Jill liked Linda - most of the time. Linda was only aggravating when she was honest to a fault, or displayed bad manners, or was inadvertently rude or impolite due to lack of common sense.
Jill was tempted to call the S.P.C.A. and tell them that she was a neighbor of Mrs. Willis, and that the old woman was over-feeding her dog so much it could be considered cruelty. Spot had developed a thyroid disorder and other medical and dental conditions due to its sickening obesity. Spot also had behavioral problems, perhaps mental problems as well since he had never been disciplined. Elinor never taught the dog a single behavior, so the animal had no structure, no sense of direction. It was difficult for Jill to go to their house for dinner, since the dog would beg and stare at her relentlessly, put its paws on an empty chair, and jump onto the dinner table. It licked and ate food from the table, and right out of the stove and refrigerator as well. Jill once saw that her drinking glass appeared to have mud on it, as if Spot had been playing with it outside. Elinor herself never ate at the table with her guests. Her excuse was always that she “picked at the food while she was cooking,” so she wasn’t hungry anymore. Jill wondered what the mother had done with the food, and also suspected that her mother-in-law was anorexic. She too often spoke about her “fat sister, Bertha,” who was obese her entire life, and Elinor dreaded this condition since childhood. Still, this was another excuse as well. The anorexia and desire to be thin were more of Elinor’s intense superficial needs to be socially correct.
Jill perceived that Elinor didn’t like her, didn’t accept her as a family member. Jill often succumbed to her manipulative ways and wasn’t always fully aware of it. But Elinor always made Jill feel awful, unwanted. She had somehow instilled fear in Jill. She always had disapproval in her eyes when she looked at her, and Jill always found herself trying to gain her favor. The old woman seemed to address only Eddie when she spoke; and talking was something his mother loved to do. Always. She was a good storyteller, in any case. Jill sometimes tried to participate in the conversations, but would receive nothing more than either a short, “Oh,” or a grunt. Eddie watched sports, news, or movies on TV, and ignored everything his mother said.
Whenever the couple was in the car, ready to leave the in-law’s house, Jill would tell Eddie, “Your mother doesn’t like me. She doesn’t like me, I know it, I can tell.” "That’s totally ridiculous,” Eddie would reply. “Of course she likes you. You’re being ridiculous.” But something was going on, whether it was dislike, disapproval, or something else. Jill felt that she didn’t belong in Elinor’s little world, that her mother-in-law wanted Jill to remain an outsider. It was as if Jill threatened or disrupted the small family that the elderly woman ruled, the little niche that she found so comfortable.
Elinor sometimes talked about how much she enjoyed the pool in her backyard. “I exercise in it,” she said. “I love the water, and I move my arms this way, and the other way, and it’s just so delightful.” Jill was never invited into the mother’s pool.
One evening, when a light rain fell from the clouds, Jill and the in-laws were having dinner at Elinor’s house. The old woman was talking away and eating at the same time. Jill was sitting just to the right of her, watching the woman talk. Very abruptly, Elinor gave Jill a look of intense disapproval. Jill’s chest sunk, her feelings were hurt, although these looks were typical. Five minutes passed, and Elinor finished her discourse. Her look of disapproval towards Jill was unchanged. Suddenly the mother announced, “While I was eating, my tooth came out. I swallowed it,” she said. “Darn it!” It was funny that Jill somehow, just before that disapproving look, noticed that a tooth was missing from Elinor’s mouth that had just been present, but dismissed it as imagination. Jill was relieved, yet annoyed that the negativity was directed towards her. Jill was glad it happened and found it quite hilarious.
Because Elinor was so old, she had many brothers, sisters, and friends to gossip about, so that Jill was a captive audience to depressing stories about illness and death. Every tale was told over and over again. The worst of them, Jill thought, was Elinor’s story about a friend who was only in her 40s and had untreatable cancer of the spine. “Because Mary was in so much pain, the doctors removed a small part of her brain to help control the pain,” the old woman said. “We were looking in the mirror at the hospital. And Mary kept pointing to the scar on her forehead, and complaining about how it made her look, that her face was scarred, and she wanted to know what to do about it. Didn’t she know she was gonna die?’” Elinor said. Jill hung her head, wanting to answer the rhetorical question, but no words came to mind. It was the saddest of all the stories she ever heard Elinor tell. It was, perhaps, sadder than any story she’d heard in her life.
A few weeks later, Jill summoned the courage to tell Elinor that the story about Mary with spine cancer was too depressing to tolerate. This seemed to intrigue the old lady. “Why is it depressing?” she wanted to know. Jill couldn’t answer; the reason was self-evident.
From then on, Eddie’s mother was sure to tell the story about Mary and her scar whenever the two came over for a visit. Fortunately, the re-telling of it countless times made Jill immune.
Jill knew she was an unwelcome member of the family in trillions of ways. Perhaps within the dynamics of Elinor’s world – the sister, even Spot, the obese pet dog, and the son who was at her beck and call – Jill was an intrusion, a hole in Elinor’s inflated air balloon, the creation the old woman lived in only for herself, at the expense of her closest family members. Jill feared and hated her.
It seemed that both mother and sister regarded Jill as an object, a piece of meat, a woman much younger than Eddie, by 12 ½ years. They praised Eddie for being a snake, a sly fox still able to ‘get ‘em’ in his mid-thirties. Jill did not like being considered some kind of sex object, it made her uncomfortable and sometimes angry. She wasn’t subhuman. Before the two got married, Elinor asked Eddie in front of Jill, in the living room of Elinor’s house, “Do you love her?” When Eddie answered affirmatively it made Jill feel better, but Jill never liked the way Elinor made her feel.
Whenever she told Eddie that his mother didn’t like her, he denied it. Eddie was oblivious to all of this, Jill realized. Eddie and his mother were close; he loved her. In his mind, his mother could do no wrong. How could anyone esteem such a shallow, superficial, needy, and selfish person? Jill wondered. Elinor was someone who looked the other way, who hid all elaborate lies so deep under the dirt that there could be no confrontation, no unpleasant episodes, no helping Eddie with real problems. Elinor was a woman who destroyed the health and the lives of innocent animals, her pets - one dog after the next - out of negligence, perhaps laziness. ‘It bordered on criminal!’ Jill sometimes believed. It was an evil due to neglect, inaction. The damage and harm to animals in particular made Jill angry. It was a hard thing to wish sometimes, but Jill hoped Elinor would find herself on the edge of a cliff, in a car accident, or with her oversized hip broken. ‘Maybe she deserves the firing squad, or to be hanged by the neck until dead,’ Jill raged inside, almost teary-eyed.
But Jill’s anger was out of control. Elinor was a real person, Jill sometimes considered. She had genuine feelings and loneliness, which she did not choose to have, and though she had so many faults and flaws – so did Jill. So did Eddie and Linda. So did the dog.
Sometimes Jill acknowledged that this was an elderly woman, a woman headed for her eighties, overwhelmed by loneliness and need, and Jill wondered if she saw something of herself reflected in Elinor. Could I ever be so lonely I’d hold my kids back from having an enriching, independent life? Jill didn’t believe she would but could imagine the temptation.
“Your mother’s a whore,” Jill frequently told Eddie. “One time, your mom saw a young schoolgirl walking down the street. She slammed on the brakes, got out of the car, and started running. She chased the little girl for blocks down the suburban sidewalk. When she finally caught up with the girl, she raised her skirt, pulled down her little pink panties, and thrust her finger up her pussy.” Eddie ignored this, and all the other obscenities Jill created about his mother. When she told a friend over the phone about the schoolgirl, Suzi responded in a serious tone, “I thought she put her finger up her ass, too.” “I did not know that,” Jill said, laughing. “Yeah, “Suzi said, “I heard she put her finger up her ass, too.” Jill laughed hard. Obscenities were Jill’s form of releasing tension, and she always used Elinor as the object of her risqué ridicule. Eddie didn’t like it but appeared to Jill to tolerate it. Sometimes he laughed, too. Or smiled covertly.
“Why don’t you fuck your mother?” Jill would say. “Are you going to your mother’s house to have an orgy with her, your sister, and the dog?” Eddie often uttered a chuckle, but he was nevertheless offended. He loved his mother, and Jill could not perceive that, could not understand.
“Why don’t you talk about your own mother?” he asked her sometimes. Jill would say, “Because then it wouldn’t be funny. Besides, your mother is the whore, not mine.”
Eddie believed that every woman in the world was a whore, excluding his mother. When Jill asked Eddie how it could work out that way – that every woman in the world was a whore except his mother, he thought about it for a moment, and then said, “I don’t know.”
Could Eddie ever overcome his suppression, his repression, of his mother’s dominance over him? It would hurt him too much to learn that his own mom, who he loved with every ounce of his heart, was primarily just using him.
‘Whore’ was a favorite word of Eddie’s. It’s what he called all women he didn’t like. “Cunt bitch whore!” and “Ye-ew cunt! Y-ew cunt!” were the common expressions. Whenever some woman did them wrong in any way, or irritated them, the response was always, “Ye-ew cunt!” The two of them laughed about it together. Eddie never spoke so maliciously towards Jill. She was spared; a participant.
You’re my whore!” Eddie often said. He was possessive. Jill believed that Eddie had an obsessive physical attraction to her and didn’t know how to relate to her in ways except as a sexual object. He preferred the company of males, and often slighted Jill to be with them.
“You don’t love me, you just think you love me, but it’s only in a sexual way.” “That’s not true ,” Eddie claimed, with a knowing look on his face. Jill never learned what it was Eddie knew. Jill thought about this glib, knowing look sometimes, and wondered what it meant. Did he really love her for her?
Eddie was always accusing Jill of cheating on him. She never did, but he didn’t trust her. If a man said hi to her, Eddie would say, “Didya fuck im?” There was no way Jill could prove she was honest and loyal. She was faithful throughout the entire marriage, and fidelity was something she was proud of, though she could brag about it only in her own mind.
The husband and wife pair, as in most all marital relationships, had both minor and major problems. The best facet of the marriage, Jill believed, was that Eddie forgave every wrong she ever did, and when she yelled at him, or acted abusively, he never became angry. Jill considered her every failed attempt at conversation to be the least of all drawbacks. The only major, serious issue was that she couldn’t trust him. He was a liar, a deceiver, a dishonest man, in every sense of the word.
Hundreds of times, Jill watched Eddie lie to his mother. Was there any difference when it came to the way Eddie treated her? Jill believed there was nothing as frustrating as not knowing whether someone is telling you the truth or not. And wanting to know what that truth is. It drove Jill out of her sanity. “Eddie, you’re a lying old fuck, a lying old bastard,” Jill pronounced resolutely to her spouse for the hundred thousandth time, and still, nothing could stop the lies. They were a tumultuous river, endless thrashing waves rolling downwards, unstoppable. She was overwhelmed with stress; the lies made her crazy. It was surprising that the relationship was as good as it was, since there was no mutual trust. Jill would hit him or punch him sometimes or inflict other various abuses. Eddie never complained. He simply said that Jill was confrontational. He always believed that Jill was unfaithful – this was the greatest horror in the world for him - something, that if it came to pass, he could never surmount. But she was not disloyal and couldn’t prove it to Eddie. Nevertheless, the two loved each other. Jill loved Eddie so much she wanted to squash his head between the flats of her hands, cave it in, hear the crunch, and watch the thick white splash of a coconut. There was something she loved about Eddie. It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps it was just Eddie himself that she loved. Eddie, the complete person. For eons she questioned why she loved this man. And for eons the answer eluded her.
