Chapter 8: The Surprise Party

During therapy, Sarah began to talk. She initially opened up by repeating the phrase, "If I can't have you, then neither can she" over and over softly, with a distant look in her eye.

After a few more visits from Adeline, Sarah showed glimpses of awareness and intelligence in her eyes. It was during those times the truth seemed to peek out. Through some patient and gentle sessions with the therapist, it was discovered Mr. Bradley had been unhappy with his wife's growing resentment toward him. One day when Sarah was feeling particularly temperamental, her husband had locked her up in the cellar.

"If I can't have you, neither can she!" he shouted, as he slammed the door shut and clicked the padlock into place.

When he finally let Sarah out of the cellar the next day, he explained to her that she would not see her daughter again, but not to worry, she was somewhere safe. He informed her that she would never know what happened to her little girl or where she was until she could be good again and show love and respect toward him. He reminded her often that if she should report him to the police or anyone for that matter, he vowed on his own mother’s grave that he would never reveal the whereabouts of their child. But if she was patient and good, he would eventually tell her and they could be reunited as a family again.

Sarah was not allowed to go outside except for occasional grocery shopping trips, where he would test her honor. She was required to show him the receipts, and he would check the balance of the bank card to make sure she had not spent even .10 cents more than the receipt showed. She proved faithful each time.

However, the local MegaMart had a terrific return policy. While at the store, she would steal small items, such as shampoo, chocolate, socks, and bras, then return the items to Customer Service and receive either store credit, or cash back if she was lucky. The store credit was fine, but she couldn't do much with it, as her husband would check the merchandise against the receipt when she came home. But when she got cash, she would stuff it in her shoe and stow if away in her hiding place. She was saving up to buy something.

As time passed, she begged and pleaded with her husband, tried every way to convince him to let her know where their daughter was. She would undress for him, dance for him, bake for him, clean for him, role play for him. She modified her facial expressions and body language as best she could when he walked by to show she truly cared for him. She had almost convinced herself that she cared for him as well. In order to save her daughter, she had to throw herself away and dedicate every waking moment to serving Mr. Bradley so he would be pleased with her and tell her where her child was.

But he was never completely happy. It was always just one more little thing she needed to do better.

"You need to stop putting the toilet paper rolls on like this. They need to go the other way around. It's much more practical," he would say.

"What did you put in this pasta?" he would ask.

"Just a little bit of lemon pepper and butter...why?"

"Hmph. No reason."

Sarah would bristle when he had "no reason." She knew it was because he was displeased. Sometimes, he would just put a scowl on his face and huff around silently for no particular reason she could gather, but it was so upsetting and off-putting, it left her guessing up and down what it was she had possibly done to disappoint him again.

He never grew physically violent with her. But he did let her know when he disapproved of her attire, her hair, the way she did the chores, how she cooked. And it never came in a direct insult or correction, either. It was always so subtle, and often in the form of a question. "Why did you put that there?" or "Were you going to wear that today?" or "Why are you listening to that?"

He would never tell her what he meant by it, but always found a way to toy with her or punish her afterward to show he was unhappy. It had gotten to the point she ended up filling the gaps in herself. He was often a lot happier with the tormenting results that came when SHE did the guessing, as her imagination usually came up with far worse ideas than what he had come up with himself.

I'm sure it's the toothpaste. I knew I should have bought the other kind. He has been quiet all morning. It's got to be the toothpaste. That's the only thing that is different.

"How do you like the toothpaste, honey?" She would ask. "I got them on sale, 2 for 1. It's the same flavor, just different brand.....but, I can take them back if you--"

"No. The toothpaste is fine." Mr. Bradley would retort.

He would often heave a huge sigh, slunk over with tense shoulders, and look off into a different direction than where Sarah was, to show he was obviously extremely burdened by something that she would simply not understand. She had already been the rounds with him in the past over much more trivial issues. She knew it was not worth attempting to establish communication with him during these times. Whether she felt it was her fault or not, she knew he would either blame her for something, or he would make her feel as though she was impotent of mind and could not handle what he had to share.

She eventually began to really doubt herself as a human being, and as a mother. It came in as a slow trickle so that it was hardly perceivable. The belief that she was not a good mother, and she deserved this treatment, began to percolate inside her and she began to believe it on some level.

And this was unconscious, but it bothered her nonetheless. She grew restless. She wondered if she would ever see her daughter again. She wondered if perhaps she would never be good enough for Mr. Bradley OR her own child. He would sometimes bring drawings and notes from their daughter to show Sarah that she was alive and doing well. Pictures and video were out of the question, and this made Sarah suspicious, but she hung on to the thread of hope because that was all she had!

She needed to step things up, put in more effort. She wanted to see her daughter again. She wanted feel connection to the outside world. She was sick of herself. The mirror in her room revealed saggy skin, bony elbows, dry and lifeless hair, and circles under the eyes.

She used to be vibrant. Beautiful. Sensational! And now? She was nothing. She would make him notice her. She would plan a surprise birthday party for him to show him how devoted she was. Maybe then he would acknowledge her and change his mind about her love for him. Maybe then they could be a complete family again....rather, maybe then she could have her daughter back and they would run away together once and for all.

As she hung the crepe paper from the ceiling, she made sure to twist it over and over again before she taped each end, so as to give it a spiral effect. She thought this looked really classy, as opposed to just hanging it straight. And she caught herself saying, "He's going to like this. I know he always liked the way I did my crepe paper." It was almost as if she looked forward to making him happy, for happiness' sake.

She fussed over the mini quiches, lil' smokies, veggie platter, chips and dip, and all the other things she thought a decent party should have. Every item she touched carried with it a desperate plea for approval and warmth from the outside world, from her husband, from God himself.

She caught herself humming as she prepped for the party, then abruptly stopped herself and ceased the noise as soon as she noticed it. She must be creating such a nuisance for her husb....oh wait. He was at the office tying up a case he had been working on for 3 weeks. That's right. This is a surprise. She wanted to continue humming, but simply lost the motivation to do so. It would not be long now. 35 minutes before he arrived. He had said so when he left in the morning, and he was never late.

Sarah (almost) enjoyed putting the party together and wasn't sure if it was because she missed her old self, or if it was because it reminded her of when she used to love her husband. Maybe it was both. She had been quite fond of him once, and conducting this important party for his birthday had a nostalgic effect on her that seemed to erase some of the present horrors she knew. Perhaps this was a state of denial she was experiencing, but she was happy to experience it. And if it were up to her, she would keep things just as they were so she did not have to remember what her life really was.

There were days where she wished she had never been born, the pain was so great. But today, having their friends and neighbors over was a welcome change from the white, judging walls that hovered over her every second of the day. She had somehow managed to assemble 7 people that did not hate her husband, and this made her feel somewhat accomplished. He was sure to be pleased.

She decorated and tidied the house, lay out appetizers, set presents on the coffee table, and mingled with the early birds. Soon, everyone had arrived. She had put on her best summer outfit and even wore mascara and lip gloss for the occasion. She hadn't worn makeup at all in months. Had it been a year? She used to be very skilled at putting eye shadow on in a way that made her look sexy and mysterious. This would not do for today, but at least she spruced up her hair, painted her nails, and even baked a cake.

The atmosphere resembled something rather jovial and friendly, and she almost enjoyed herself, if it were not for the fact that she suffered a gaping wound from the disappearance of her daughter. Rather than smile and laugh, she would utter a "hmph" and chuckle softly when she felt amused. She felt as though her mouth had curved up into the shape of a smile, but videos later revealed quite the contrary. Her face was stiff as stone.

She felt as though she could not truly enjoy the party if her daughter was out there somewhere. She was miserable and never would be free from this torment. Any time a feeling of peace or happiness crept in, she would get the jitters and crave something to drink.

35 minutes had passed. 45 minutes. Where was he? He said he would be home any minute. Guests were growing antsy and trying not to show it. Finally, in an act of desparation, Sarah decided to hold a Karaoke contest. "I have no idea where he is! He said he would be here any minute. And yet, here we are, and no surprise party yet! Let's sing karaoke! You all came here, we're going to have a party anyway. Enjoy the food, mingle, and sing some karaoke!"

She set up the karaoke machine and a few people dabbled on it for about an hour. The party was a bit dry. Most people were feeling a bit let down and were thinking of heading home, but they stuck around for Sarah, as she was obviously a good host and wanted them to have an enjoyable time.

He never came.

Once that last car had gone, Sarah fell onto the couch and sunk into the cushions, letting it engulf her shoulders, her head, her feet. It felt good to have everyone out of the way. She wanted to fall asleep and awake in a different place, where she did not have these troubles anymore.

Night time came and she got ready for bed. Still no husband. She had no way of getting ahold of him as she was not allowed to have a phone. The truth of that stung a little, but the bigger sting was his not showing up. After awhile, she wondered, "Maybe he was in an accident....maybe he...died." She let the thought sink in. It was a wonderful idea. The only thing that prevented her from truly appreciating the concept was that she knew she would NEVER find their daughter now. So for this reason, she supposed she was grateful that he was still alive, that is, if he was still alive.

2 days passed, and nothing. No sign of her husband. She had readied herself to go to the police and make a missing persons report, as well as tell them about what was going on with her daughter. When Mr. Bradley burst through the front door. He had on a vibrant Hawaiian shirt with ghastly palm trees and coconuts, surrounded by orange and green birds of paradise.

Without missing a beat, he jumped into what felt like the middle of a conversation.

"I almost spent all of our savings on those damn casinos. [what damn casinos?] There is just something about the lure of a slot machine that gets at me every time. I have to stay away from those things. You should be grateful I didn't wager the house on my last game of blackjack! I fully lost!" [But we don't have casinos in Arizona. Where on earth did you go?]

"Oh?"

"Sarah, I hate surprise parties. Don't ever do that to me again."

The two never spoke of the incident again.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

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