Read Online The Devil's Menagerie by Louis Charbonneau - Free Book Online
Authors: Louis Charbonneau
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even have stood out.
Dave’s favorite Christmas movie, predictably, was
It’s a Wonderful Life
.
“He’s what?” Dave asked quietly.
Glenda shook her head again, still standing beside the bed. She shivered from the chill, glanced toward the window and the curtains stirring. Gooseflesh popped out on her arms. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Maybe I would if you’d tell me.”
How could she tell him now, after all these years? It would seem as if she had been hiding part of herself from him, as indeed she had. How could she even begin to make him understand?
She had tried to distance herself from the two and a half years she had lived with Ralph Beringer. Ralph was a career serviceman—a sergeant in the Air Force when he left the States eight years ago. She had married him when she was nineteen, overwhelmed by the sheer animal force of him, unable to resist his physical strength or the unsuspected wildness he tapped in her. She had been pregnant with Richie when they married, and after the baby was born she had endured increasingly violent abuse for two years before Ralph shipped out to Germany.
In Ralph’s absence she had started to attend meetings of a support group of servicemen’s wives, amazed to discover there were so many others like her trapped in brutal relationships. She had not dared to look for help while Ralph was there, but three thousand miles of ocean gave her the courage she needed. Four months of therapy and anguished soul-searching later, she wrote the Dear John letter she dreaded.
There was no reply. Ralph’s silence was more frightening than any angry call or letter. For weeks she dreaded each strident ring of the phone; when the day’s mail came she often sat staring at the accumulation of bills and trash mail without the courage to sort through it.
Then, three months after her letter, an envelope arrived addressed to her and bearing a German stamp and cancellation mark. Inside was a single sheet of notepaper. Across the sheet four words were scrawled in Ralph’s nearly illegible hand.
It’s not over, bitch
.
The blunt warning—as cruel in what it left unsaid as in its vicious message—nearly undid her resolve. She wouldn’t let it happen.
Glenda had left Georgia, where Beringer had last been stationed before shipping overseas. She had wanted to sever any connection with their life together, to get as far away from him as she could, moving all the way across the United States to California. She had not dared to conceal the move. She knew Ralph would find her if she tried to hide and punish both her and Richie for it. Instead she lived in terror of the day when he might complete his overseas service—or come back on leave.
That first Christmas in California there was another message. It came in an innocent guise—a present for Richie from his father in Germany. Because Richie saw the package and was excited over it, she could only watch helplessly while the boy eagerly tore at the gift paper wrapping. He squealed with delight over the brightly painted wooden toy, a foot-high nutcracker carved in the image of a woodsman with an ax.
Richie left the toy under the tree that Christmas Eve. Glenda could not tear her eyes from the ax in the woodsman’s hand, reflecting a red glow from a nearby tree light.
Divorced and alone with a small child, Glenda had tried to rebuild her life. She found a job as an assistant in the office of the Dean of Men at UCLA. She began learning to survive.
She had never expected to fall in love—really fall in love—but two summers after moving to Los Angeles she met David Lindstrom. He was taking summer courses at UCLA in filmmaking and screenwriting, working toward a doctorate in Dramatic Arts, when their paths crossed.
Glenda was having lunch by herself, sitting on a bench in the sun, when someone sat down beside her. Long skinny legs in jeans, a denim shirt, unruly hair and a nice smile. “You brought your lunch?” he commented. “I envy
Dave’s favorite Christmas movie, predictably, was
It’s a Wonderful Life
.
“He’s what?” Dave asked quietly.
Glenda shook her head again, still standing beside the bed. She shivered from the chill, glanced toward the window and the curtains stirring. Gooseflesh popped out on her arms. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Maybe I would if you’d tell me.”
How could she tell him now, after all these years? It would seem as if she had been hiding part of herself from him, as indeed she had. How could she even begin to make him understand?
She had tried to distance herself from the two and a half years she had lived with Ralph Beringer. Ralph was a career serviceman—a sergeant in the Air Force when he left the States eight years ago. She had married him when she was nineteen, overwhelmed by the sheer animal force of him, unable to resist his physical strength or the unsuspected wildness he tapped in her. She had been pregnant with Richie when they married, and after the baby was born she had endured increasingly violent abuse for two years before Ralph shipped out to Germany.
In Ralph’s absence she had started to attend meetings of a support group of servicemen’s wives, amazed to discover there were so many others like her trapped in brutal relationships. She had not dared to look for help while Ralph was there, but three thousand miles of ocean gave her the courage she needed. Four months of therapy and anguished soul-searching later, she wrote the Dear John letter she dreaded.
There was no reply. Ralph’s silence was more frightening than any angry call or letter. For weeks she dreaded each strident ring of the phone; when the day’s mail came she often sat staring at the accumulation of bills and trash mail without the courage to sort through it.
Then, three months after her letter, an envelope arrived addressed to her and bearing a German stamp and cancellation mark. Inside was a single sheet of notepaper. Across the sheet four words were scrawled in Ralph’s nearly illegible hand.
It’s not over, bitch
.
The blunt warning—as cruel in what it left unsaid as in its vicious message—nearly undid her resolve. She wouldn’t let it happen.
Glenda had left Georgia, where Beringer had last been stationed before shipping overseas. She had wanted to sever any connection with their life together, to get as far away from him as she could, moving all the way across the United States to California. She had not dared to conceal the move. She knew Ralph would find her if she tried to hide and punish both her and Richie for it. Instead she lived in terror of the day when he might complete his overseas service—or come back on leave.
That first Christmas in California there was another message. It came in an innocent guise—a present for Richie from his father in Germany. Because Richie saw the package and was excited over it, she could only watch helplessly while the boy eagerly tore at the gift paper wrapping. He squealed with delight over the brightly painted wooden toy, a foot-high nutcracker carved in the image of a woodsman with an ax.
Richie left the toy under the tree that Christmas Eve. Glenda could not tear her eyes from the ax in the woodsman’s hand, reflecting a red glow from a nearby tree light.
Divorced and alone with a small child, Glenda had tried to rebuild her life. She found a job as an assistant in the office of the Dean of Men at UCLA. She began learning to survive.
She had never expected to fall in love—really fall in love—but two summers after moving to Los Angeles she met David Lindstrom. He was taking summer courses at UCLA in filmmaking and screenwriting, working toward a doctorate in Dramatic Arts, when their paths crossed.
Glenda was having lunch by herself, sitting on a bench in the sun, when someone sat down beside her. Long skinny legs in jeans, a denim shirt, unruly hair and a nice smile. “You brought your lunch?” he commented. “I envy
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