“Stand up straight, Morgan. A girl with your figure shouldn’t slouch. You are a representation of this family and your husband. Act accordingly.”
On the inside, I rolled my eyes so hard at my mother that they have to pack a bag before they come back to the front of my head. However, my outside appearance never wavered. I’m a pro at not showing emotion. When you grow up in a house with Beverly Cambridge as your mother, you have to learn to hide your true feelings. My mother is a perfectionist. That’s probably an understatement. She is the daughter of a pastor, and not just any pastor, but the pastor of the First Baptist Church right in the heart of Dallas, Texas. The well-known mega-church has members such as commissioners, mayors, legislators, and a few celebrities. She was brought up in an environment where appearance is everything, which is how she became the first black Miss. Texas, and later became Miss. America in 1980. From the time Beverly Cambridge wakes up in the morning until the time she goes to sleep at night, she is performing. The world is her stage, and she refuses to show the world any flaws in her perfectly created farce. We are the happy family--the Obamas before the world knew who they were, so frowning when a senator tells you at the age of six that you’re cute, but not nearly as cute as your little sister, gets you pinched so hard you have a bruise for weeks. Not keeping a smile on your face during a six-hour fundraising dinner that you were too young to attend in the first place, gets you locked in a room without food for three days, so when I say I have years of experience learning to hide my feelings, I mean it.
I straightened my back and tilted my chin up, just like I was taught to do in all my years of etiquette classes, not that my husband would notice me slouching. Trevor has been too busy kissing ass to notice anything about me. Part of my mother’s job, other than to spend daddy’s money, was to make sure my little sister and I married well. Not for love, that’s a stupid notion. Only fools and poor people marry for love—her words, not mine. No, we had to marry for prestige. That is how I found myself married to a man that I hardly knew.
Tonight, we’re celebrating Trevor’s recent courtroom success. He and I had only been married for three years, and since then, he had slowly risen up the ladder at my father’s law firm. Most of his success is due to my father’s connections and influence. Even now the ballroom is filled to the brim with people from my father’s contact list. They are the movers and shakers of the world--the high society. Lawyers, business men, politicians, and even a former US vice president is in attendance. This gathering really has nothing to do with Trevor or his success, it is just another opportunity for my parents to gain patronage. With my father’s term of governor coming up for re-election, this was just another fundraising event for him.
“I thought I told you to wear your hair down tonight.” Another critique from Mother. She liked to pretend that the hundred-dollar weave jobs we wear is actually our real hair.
“You look much better with your long hair hanging down. It makes your face look smaller, and Lord knows you need the help.”
“I happen to prefer it up, Beverly,” Trevor said in my defense.
He isn’t really paying me a compliment, he just likes to go against my mother. He’s still trying to assert his dominance over her. He thinks by proving his dominance she will begin to respect him more. I would advise him to give up on that dream, but he doesn’t listen to me anyway.
“Of course, you would. I wouldn’t expect someone so new to wealth to know anything about elegance or fashion.”
Trevor frowned at my mother’s retort.
Although Trevor liked to play this game with Mother, he always ended up losing. No one can cut you down as quickly and severely as Beverly Cambridge.
Seeing as she’d won the argument, she turned back to me with a triumphant smile. “Take it down.”
Without argument, I took the pin out of my low chignon allowing the silky waves to fall down my back.
My sister, Monroe, cut her eyes at me and rolled them before giving me a dimpled smile.
Monroe is Mother’s pride and joy. She’s tall and thin like Mother. Her eyes are almond shaped and hazel like Father’s. She’s gorgeous inside and out. Monroe is adventurous and outspoken. She can walk into any room and be the center of attention, not because she demands it, but because people always want to know the beautiful girl with the stunning eyes and vibrant personality. The only thing my dear youngest sister lacks, is motivation.
“Oh look, Marvin! It’s Benjamin Parks, the CEO of Vita Pharmaceutical.”
Another one of Mother’s many talents was knowing the title to every wealthy business man or woman in the world.
“I’ve been trying to get a meeting with him for years. Did you invite him, Beverly?”
“No! I did,” Trevor answered in that preening way he used whenever he was talking to my father. “He’s the firm’s newest client. I know what someone like him could do for your campaign, Marvin. Those private investors won’t hold forever.”
My father stared at my husband with a look of pride. That look was hard to come by from my father. After twenty-eight years of being his daughter, I’ve only gotten it once. When I was twelve, some big wig’s son thought I was cute. He asked to dance with me one night at a fundraising event. My father and his thought we would be the perfect couple. They even thought about arranging some type of marriage thing. Unfortunately for his parents and mine, they couldn’t see that the young man was gay. He was only spending time with me that night, because he didn’t think I’d judge him. Thinking I had bagged some future heir to a billion-dollar real estate company, was the only time my dad had ever looked at me with pride.
“That was very smart, Trevor. Nothing will replace the money I get from my private investors, but good job taking initiative.”
“Indeed.” Mother added. “Thinking like that may actually get you partner at my husband’s law firm instead of just an associate,” Mother said the word associate as if it was the equivalent of a trash man.
Only she could make seven years in two of the top colleges in the world and a six-figure income seem like nothing.
Despite Mother’s lack of any maternal bone, she always wanted us to marry the best. “Only the best for a Cambridge girl.” She would say. Trevor was just ok. He wasn’t the diplomat or renowned surgeon she would have liked for her daughters, but then again, that’s why he’s married to me.
Trevor clenched his jaw the way he always did when my parents belittled him. His body became rigid and the vein in his neck started to throb. Great, I’ll be sure to pay for this later tonight. We watched as the man named Benjamin Parks approached us.
I’d been around wealthy men all my life. Both my parents come from money. Benjamin Parks had that same type of air that rich men carry. The one that says ‘I’m invincible’. He floated toward us in his smoke gray tailored suit. He couldn’t be much older than me. He had that tanned–just–left–somewhere—exotic—look to his skin that paired well with his dark brown hair. He was attractive in an average way, but his demeanor and confidence made him more appealing. I imagine with his title and money he had no problem attracting women.
He approached us, and a practiced smile crossed his face. Something about his smile sent shivers up my back--not in the good way. Another gift I’d picked up due to my parents’ poor parenting, is that I’m really good at reading people. Spending years silently watching and listening in the corner helped tune that skill set. I guess it would be considered my super power, like my sister’s ability to fit in anywhere and Mother’s ability to recall rich men’s statistics like baseball card facts, so from one look at Benjamin Parks, I knew he was trouble.
“Congratulations, Trevor, and thank you for inviting me to your celebration. I’m sure you will make partner soon.”
Trevor seemed to preen like a peacock at the compliment until my mother chuckled under her breath. Meanwhile, Benjamin’s eyes were busy shifting between my sister and me, but they lingered on Monroe. They usually always did.
“Now, which one of these beauties is your wife?” he asked this question without taking his eyes off of Monroe.
I don’t have to worry about Roe, Benjamin isn’t her type. Despite Mother’s dream of marrying Monroe off to some wealthy asshole, it will never happen. My sister has a taste for bad boys. The only rich man Monroe will marry is going to be a rapper.
“This one,” Trevor said pointing towards me. “This is Morgan Downs.”
Benjamin peeled his eyes away from my sister to look me over. His interest in me peeked only for a second. He looked at me like one would examine a fruit before they placed it in their shopping cart. I admit, I didn’t have Monroe’s exotic looks or her peanut butter skin tone. My skin was the color of coffee with a dash of cream. I was on the short side, five-foot-three-inches in height. My body was a lot curvier than Monroe’s, which often drove Mother mad. My eyes are brown like my mother’s, but they aren’t that slanted cat shape that made Mother and Monroe stand out. They turned down at the ends giving me the appearance that I’m always sad. My lips are full and bow shaped, the type people pay money for, and my nose is narrow but spreads wide at the tip. I’m not ugly, but I’m not Monroe. Growing up with a gorgeous little sister in a society that had no qualms about reminding you of your short comings, made me grow a thick skin. I’m pretty, I’ve gotten enough compliments to know that, but when put up against girls like Monroe, I was often considered the ugly duckling.
“Nice to meet you, Morgan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
My radar went off with the way he slightly laughed at the last part of his sentence. It’s like he knew some kind of inside joke I wasn’t privy to.
“How is marriage life treating you?” He didn’t ask the question as if he cared about the response.
He was just being polite. It’s like he was rehearsing a script or checking off appropriate questions to ask while in public. I had no intentions of answering him. For starters, he didn’t really care how my marriage life was going. If he did, he might have actually made eye contact with me while asking the question, and the other reason I didn’t answer….
“You will have to excuse, Morgan. She’s mute,” Mother replied right on time.
This is a lie. I can talk, just not out in public where anyone could discover that I had a speech problem. I stutter. It’s worse when I’m nervous, or angry, or just around my parents. Since I was a child, this had been the thorn in my mother’s side. To her, I’m flawed. She would rather tell people I couldn’t speak and gain sympathy, than to let them know that I could in fact talk, but I stuttered. I was an imperfection in her perfectly created world.
For the first time, Benjamin’s eyes were fully on me. That sympathetic look my mother loved came over his face. He then cut his eyes to Trevor briefly before turning back to my sister.
“I’m sorry to hear that, and now, who is this?” Benjamin asked with zero sincerity.
I was fully dismissed by him, and now his full attention was on Monroe.
“This……beautiful goddess, is my sister-in-law, Monroe Cambridge.” Trevor introduced my sister the way he always did, as if she were his wife instead of me.
The moment my sister was introduced to Benjamin, I and everyone else around us was forgotten. I saw the look in my father’s eyes as he intruded into Benjamin and Monroe’s conversation. Marvin Cambridge had no problem pimping his daughters out to gain access to men’s pockets. My father was already adding up Benjamin’s donation as he talked about my sister’s recent accomplishments, and though I love my sister, there isn’t very many to talk about.
“Looks like your sister has caught the eye of the richest man in the room.” Mother bragged.
This was what she lived for. A man as well-known and wealthy as Benjamin Parks finding interest in her daughter was the greatest thing she could ask for.
“It’s just one conversation, Beverly. Besides, Benjamin isn’t the type to settle down.” My husband’s jealous tone wasn’t missed on me.
Mother cut her eyes to Trevor, I could tell from the vicious smile on her face she was about to say something scathing.
“Poor Trevor, still fawning after the unobtainable. If it weren’t for Morgan’s inadequacies, you wouldn’t even be allowed in my house let alone my family. Now take your wife, and mingle with your guest. You are no longer needed here.” Mother then turned and immediately joined in my father’s and Benjamin’s conversation.
***
The rest of the night was as miserable as I knew it would be. I stood around silently as hundreds of guests talked around me, but not to me. I endured my husband’s silent stewing as he watched Benjamin take up Monroe’s time the entire night. By the time we made it back to our house, I had prepared myself for what was to come.
“That fucking woman!” Trevor shouted as he slammed the door to our bedroom. “I’m a goddamn attorney. I work for one of the most prestigious law firms in this city, and she acts like I’m not good enough for her precious daughter. I’m the one that invited Benjamin to the party when her husband couldn’t even get a fucking call back.”
I didn’t respond. Anything I said would only make matters worse for me. My night was already going to be bad. I didn’t need to make it worse.
Trevor angrily took off his clothes while throwing things around the room.
“I can have any woman in this world, and I get saddled with the fucking retard that can’t even talk.”
I think sometimes people think that because I don’t talk, it also means I can’t hear, or maybe in this instance, he just didn’t care.
I closed the lid to my jewelry box down after placing the pearls I wore tonight inside. The sound drew his attention to me. My heart beat sped up. It’s important at times like this to remain unseen by him. He raked his eyes over my semi-naked body. My white, knee-length dress had already been removed and hanging over the back of the chair ready to take to the cleaners tomorrow. Trevor’s hazel eyes scanned my body with disgust. Despite the fact that he admitted to hating my body and wishing I was skinnier, it never failed to turn him on. Right now, his cock was tenting his slacks.
Trevor was my first lover. Our first time was not a memorable or enjoyable experience. Usually, he climbed on top of me in the dark, stuck around inside me for a few minutes, and then climbed off when he was done. He seemed to enjoy it. I just went with the motions. Although Mother preached to my sister to stay a virgin until marriage, she told me that I would have to open my legs in order for a man to marry me. I was determined to prove her wrong. My wedding night was the first time I’d had sex, unlike Monroe who’d given up her virginity in ninth grade. I didn’t judge my sister for giving it up when she did. In fact, I loved her very detailed stories of her sexual conquest. She made it seem like sex was this magical thing between two lovers.
It isn’t.
“Have you taken your birth control pill today?” Trevor asked as he unbuckled his pants. This question came up at least twice a day--as if I would forget. God forbid I actually get pregnant by my husband. It doesn’t matter that I actually want kids. I told him this repeatedly while we were dating, and he was all for it. Now, Trevor thought that children would only be in the way.
I nodded my head in answer to his question.
“Good. Go shower, I want to have sex tonight.”
So romantic.
As much as I wish he would just fall asleep and leave me alone, I knew I would have to endure this. Despite being in a marriage where your husband often treated you as if he hated you, I still tried to be a good wife. When we first started dating, he was the typical boyfriend. For seven months, he performed the role of a caring boyfriend perfectly. When he asked to marry me, I was unsure. Though we had been dating for seven months, we really didn’t know each other. He was kind and sweet to me, but I never felt as if he tried to get to know me. By the time he asked me to marry him, I couldn’t say no. My parents were so heavily involved that I had no choice. It wasn’t until after our wedding day that the real Trevor appeared. Even so, I still performed my wifely duties without protest. Partly because I hoped that one day he would learn to love and value me, and partly because I feared the repercussions if I didn’t. I walked towards our massive attached bathroom. My body trembled at the thought of what is to come. The moment I passed by him, his large hand wrapped around my upper arm squeezing tightly. The bruise from two days ago flared back to life. I flinched.
“Did you mention anything to your sister about what goes on in this house?” His hazel eyes bore into mine searching for the truth.
Even if I did decide to lie, Trevor would never know. He never took the time get to know me well enough to read me.
I shook my head.
“SPEAK!” he yelled, and I jumped.
“Nnnnnnnnnnn……nnnnnnnnn….” I stopped and closed my eyes, fighting to get the simple word out.
I would much rather he hit me. He was good about hitting me in places that people couldn’t see. The bruises were my embarrassing reminders, but they cleared up. However, it was this kind of abuse that stayed the longest, when he made me nervous just so I could stutter and he could mock me. Like the way he was doing now. He watched me with a smile as I fought to get the simple word no out.
I took a breath and fought the anxiety clawing its way through my body. I was shipped to tons of speech-language pathologists trying to ‘solve’ my issue. Most told my parents that my stuttering wasn’t as severe as they believed. It’s true, when I’m around other people, my stuttering is only slight, hardly noticeable, but when I’m with my family, it’s worse--severely worse. One psychologist even told me that my stuttering was linked to my parents, and that it was all in my head. I don’t know if that’s true or not.
Trevor released my arm with a shove, causing me to fall into the closed bathroom door.
“Fucking retard. Hurry up in the shower, I don’t want to wait all night.” He turned away from me, and I headed into the bathroom, hoping the hot shower water would dissolve my tears.
The sterile white tile in my bathroom was blinding. Nothing in this house was my style. Everything was to Trevor’s liking, even though the huge, four-bedroom sprawling mansion was a wedding gift from my beloved grandparents.
Just thinking about my grandparents made the tears fall faster. My paternal grandparents were my saving grace growing up. They were more like parents than grandparents. I spent summers, weekends, and Christmas breaks with them. They are the ones that taught me humility and kindness.
I stared at the reflection looking back at me. Sad brown eyes that hide so much pain. A body full of dark bruises in different stages of healing. I was a mess inside and out. If my grandparents were still alive, they would be so ashamed of the woman I’ve become. I was so busy trying to live my life the way my parents and husband wanted me to, I had no idea who I was anymore. My eyes were as dead as the wax figures you find in museums. I guess I’m a lot like those statues--a molded figure of what others wanted me to be. I turned away from the image in the mirror, unable to bare the sight of her.
I was back in my bed room entirely too soon. The lights were off, and the moonlight coming through the patio doors gave me just enough light to make out Trevor’s outline underneath the covers.
“Get in the bed, Morgan.” His voice came out as a demand.
I slid the covers back and crawled in bed. Trevor demanded that I sleep in the nude. He didn’t like having to undress me in the middle of the night if he wanted sex. As soon as I was in position, Trevor was on top of me. His touch was rough as he pushed my thighs open and thrusted his fingers inside me. It’s not like he cared if my body was ready for him. His other hand slid into the night stand beside my side of the bed to retrieve the KY Jelly. He never took the time for my body to create its own natural lubricant. After applying the gel onto his shaft and around my labia, he thrusted his erection inside of me. I whimpered at the rough and burning intrusion.
“Fuck, Morg! You aren’t much to look at, but this pussy is the best I’ve ever had. You’re so fucking tight.”
I turned my head as he panted harsh breaths in my face with each thrust. I closed my eyes and gripped the sheets, waiting for him to finish. The more I whimpered, the more he got turned on. I wonder if he knew my whimpers were from pain and not pleasure. I doubt he would care either way. He continued to thrust inside me for a few more minutes before he growled out a curse word, and his body became rigid over mine. Thank God he never lasted long. His hot seed spilled inside me, and the first tear slid down my face.
Trevor rolled off of me and collapsed down with his back to me.
“You need to burn that white dress. You looked like the fucking marshmallow man tonight.” He chuckled those words before the sounds of his soft snoring greeted me.
I rolled to my side, my back facing his, as the remnants of his orgasm leaked onto my thighs. Like many nights, my silent tears took me to sleep.