I walked through the front door. Jeff was sitting on the couch obviously waiting for me. He looked casual, his shirt loose and unbuttoned. He wore a pair of khakis. He was very handsome and seeing him sitting there with all of his attention focused on what was happening with me caused most of my fear to evaporate; still there was a hint lingering. I tried to dispel it but it was such a low hum in my overall consciousness that I gave in and accepted it. He stood as I walked into the foyer. He came over to me and took my small overnight bag. He placed it near the wall. He was methodical. That was his way; he created tension or desire in me then capitalized on it by slowing things down, thereby building emotions in me until I couldn't hold back.

"Jeff," I whispered.

He came back to me and put his arms around me. I leaned into his embrace and cried. I was so tired and confused. Certainly if there was a way to come back to my senses, even if just for the rest of that day, I needed to. He held me and smoothed back my hair. He whispered, "Eve. Darling. Shh. It's all right."

It was an ironic truth. He was the only one who could comfort me. I felt complete with him, when he loved me in that way, he was my husband and I loved him. I pulled away and he examined me.

"What are you doing Eve?" He said.

"I don't know."

"What's all this about?"

"I'm remembering things and they won't stop."

He nodded. "I love you more than anything. When you go through these episodes, I go crazy. I'm so afraid of losing you. You aren't leaving me are you, Eve?"

"I don't think so."

He kept his eyes on me and let out a sigh, smiled a weary smile. He wiped a tear from my cheek. The hum of discontent in me picked up. It was something about the way he'd said episodes that sliced through some of the love I was feeling towards him. Still in that moment, I was vulnerable and I wanted to be vulnerable so he would protect me He let his hand move to my neck. He kept it there for a moment. I relaxed under his touch. He reached and moved my hair to the side. I thought he would press his lips against me and it made me feel breathless. Instead he touched my face again, keeping his eyes on me. He touched my lips.

"Kiss me," I said softly.

"Why?"

I looked down and then up again. "Because I love you and I want you."

He leaned forward and kissed me. He had his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. My body was against his, but that feeling of him pulling against him was a drop, a hint of a poison memory. It didn't catch up with me at first and as he kissed my neck I relaxed and turned my head to the side. He moved his hands to my waist and un-tucked my shirt. But the weighted drop of liquid grew heavier. I was going to break again, break from sanity. He didn't know what I was feeling yet and it dawned on me that these episodes were contractions. They came on in the same way, powerful and painful but then they'd subside for a little while. Something was coming, something dark and ugly. I froze. I opened my eyes and things turned black for a moment. When I opened them again Jeff and I were in the past. We were in our first home we lived in as a married couple. He was holding me down and I couldn't get air. His weight had been hurting me and that feeling alone made me desperate for air, to get away from him. I had been trying to hold my skirt down but he had over powered me. I was remembering the night in vivid detail; in the recollection his arm was pressing down so forcefully that the next day I'd noticed bruises.

Standing in the foyer he couldn't know where I was, where my mind had taken me.

"Eve, what are you doing?" I had pulled away and rushed over to the couch. Consciousness returned and I was crying into the cushions. As he spoke to me the physical sensation penetrated everything. I was remembering the night he'd forced me, and my body hurt again just as it had. The sensations were still with me and I felt excruciating pain as I lay there fifteen years in the future.

I looked at him. My voice was hoarse. I knew I must have looked like I was in a trance. I did feel as though I'd been hypnotized. "What did you say to me?" I asked.

He was standing above me, looking down. "I asked you what you were doing? What happened?"

"No. Not just now. What did you say to me back then, after what you did?"

"When? What did I do?"

"When you raped me."

It seemed to startle him so much he took a step back.

I sat up. "I remember now. You said there's no such thing as force when it's a man with his wife."

He moved to touch me, to comfort me.

I pulled away, "Please don't touch me." I said softly. Though nothing was really happening, I was an animal cornered and wounded.

Despite what my mind was doing to me, there was a larger orbit. The turbulence of our relationship moved on the currents of his power. He was the one who decided when things would shift and how they would go.

His expression changed. Instead of compassion, he glared at me with contempt. That alone cause me to instantly return to the present. It frightened me.

"Fuck you Eve." He said "Don't touch you? Is that what you said?" His jaw tightened. He was angry. Incredulous. "You're my wife. I can have you if I want to." He shook his head and walked out of the room. I saw go down the hall and into his study.

I stood and tucked my shirt in. Straightened my hair. I was falling again. I'd thought that my desperation and sorrow had reached its limit, but a rapid descent came and I was in a state of terror and panic. I had kept all of the violence back and Margaret's diaries unleashed it again. I was so afraid I started shaking. I didn't want him so angry at me; it was a matter of survival. I walked back towards the study and stood in the doorway. He was collecting sketchpads and shoving them into his portfolio.

"Are you leaving?" I asked. My heart was racing. I was afraid he would leave and get someone to take me away. I was so crazy. He didn't say anything to me. Instead he removed a sports coat from the back of his wooden desk chair. He started out of the room.

"Jeff, please."

He walked past me through the doorway and as he did he moved past forcefully enough to push me against the door frame. I followed him into the front room. As I had done in the past, I mustered anger. I wanted to push him into violence rather than waiting for it to happen. The anitcipation was worse.

"Fuck you!" I shouted.

He turned back to me and came towards me. I was certain he'd raise his hand and strike me. I braced myself. He'd done it so many times before, years ago. How had I forgotten he could hurt me? He stood in front of me and glared, "go take up with that guy you spent the night with. I want you out of the house when I get back. I want you out in two hours. Do you understand me, Eve?"

I didn't flinch. I glared back at him, "You get out!"

He dropped his portfolio to the floor and it made a smack when the leather hit the hardwood. I shuddered and flinched. He grabbed my arms and held firmly. He glared at me. I felt like I was going to suffocate. He kept his eyes on me for a moment. He maintained his grip on me and I didn't pull away. He was almost shaking I knew he was resisting hurting me.

"God Damn it Eve. I could—"

"What? Kill me? I said it calmly as if he were pure evil. As if I was confronting the devil. "Of course you could. You're a criminal and I have proof—"

He released me and let out a sharp breath. For an instant he looked frightened. But, then he regained composure "You've lost your Goddamned mind." He said calmly, picked up his sports coat and portfolio. Then he walked out the door. I watched him through the window. He opened his car door, threw his leather case in and put his coat on. In all the commotion he'd forgotten his overcoat. It was freezing outside. I hoped he'd freeze to death and that his car would slide off the road into a ditch and he'd be stuck out in a blizzard without any way to keep warm.

Then things turned normal again. That eerie nightmare normal. It was getting difficult to distinguish between the past, the present, sanity and craziness. That's how things had become. I hadn't known it all those months. I had successfully suppressed most of it, but the patterns had been there for a long time. No one would have believed me if I had told them the worst part was the sudden return to normalcy. After his car pulled out of the driveway, there it was again. Even with my fight with Jeff and all the memories I slipped back into my old self. Not five hours ago I had been considering stuffing my exhaust pipe with my scarf and killing myself. Perhaps, I wasn't really considering it. Maybe I'd just felt desperate and it seemed like a peaceful alternative to the memories that were flooding into my consciousness.

A part of me wanted to get it over with, to rip the truth out into the open. I was bleeding a slow death and if there was a horrible truth, it may as well be brought into the light of day. For that reason I wanted so much to retrieve the diary from my car and read on. It said more. I knew it did and I knew Margaret's words would help me navigate what to do next. I knew from the look on Jeff's face when I'd told him I had proof that he'd done something horrible to her. I resisted the urge to go out to the car and bring the diary inside. I didn't want Jeff to find out I had a second one. It was more important to wait until I was sure I'd be able to read the whole thing. So I didn't go get the journal that morning.

As I moved through the morning and early afternoon Margaret's words repeated themselves in my thoughts. I didn't care that she was insane. Honestly, I didn't. That wasn't relevant. Her truth was still worth something, even disguised in hallucinations and delusions. Since I had as much as gone crazy myself, I began to see Margaret as my ally. He hadn't loved her but she'd had the wisdom that I lacked—even from the start. Even through the force filed of her madness, she was able to describe the truth about him. I'd never known why she'd stayed. Perhaps, there really had been no place for her to go. Perhaps, she was simply too insane to take care of herself. What disturbed me most was the way she described their marriage. It was a macabre union. If anything she said about the time together was true, it made me think perhaps she was the only person he could reveal his real self to. He could be a man without conscience. That may have been their intimacy. It must have been a relief for him to reveal that side of himself to someone, even someone he threatened to kill.

Threatened to kill. Had he threatened to kill her?

I let out a deep breath and stared at the clock above the kitchen sink. He'd been gone two hours. I knew he had to come back to pack for his trip to California. Ordinarily I would have packed his suitcase; a part of me wanted to do it for him anyway, just out of habit, but I didn't. Even with his early flight he likely he wouldn't be back until late that night. He was so angry at me.

A sadness came over me again. I didn't want the truth to ruin things. And, If I had lost my mind and had imagined the whole thing then a part of me realized I was treating him as badly as he'd treated me.

I walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver. I dialed his number at work. He answered after three rings. "This is Jeff."

"It' me."

He didn't say anything.

"Don't be angry with me. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. Honestly, It just seemed--"

"Eve I'm trying to get some work done. I can't keep track of your moods right now."

"OK." I said. I started crying but tried to hold back.

"OK." He said.

"Wait. Don't hang up. You're leaving tomorrow."

"Eve I can't go crazy with you. I don't want to go through this with you again. You tear up our whole lives then you want things to go right back to normal. Do you realize that?"

'That isn't true. Something's happened. This is real."

"What's happened? You found a diary from 30 years ago. You're letting yourself get spooked by a madwoman's rants."

"You know that's not all of it."

"Eve. I'm trying to work."

"I'm not hysterical. I'm having a horrible time. You're the only one I have to talk to and you were the one who caused my problems."

"First of all, apparently I'm not the only one you have to talk to and secondly don't blame me for all your problems. You're a grown woman. Maybe I tried to stop you from leaving me at one time, but I'm not any more."

"Don't be angry with me. It makes me very upset."

"Well I am angry. You called me a criminal. You accused me of heinous things."

"I'm sorry."

There was silence.

I spoke again. "Will you please come home for dinner? I'll fix us a nice dinner. I promise we won't fight any more. I'm afraid."

"All right, Eve."

I felt a wave of relief. "You'll come home?"

There was a brief pause. "I can get home by six."

"You'll be here?"

"I said I would." He hung up.

I was inhabiting two realities. In that one, home sphere as feminists say, I needed to keep a constant stream of reassurance. Jeff needed to know I loved him no matter what. When I faltered, grew angry or accused him he couldn't take it. That was why I called him. That was why I gave him such a wide berth back to me.