Forney, Texas
Overland Grove
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Maxine absentmindedly washed the dishes, her mind full of unanswered questions, ridiculous (but not far-fetched) theories, and hopeless dreams. These are the moments she enjoyed the most about being a homemaker without kids. Her husband’s arrival was normally anytime after 6pm and it was only two. Four hours left and the sense of dread was creeping up on her. And the not knowing why was twisting her stomach in knots, because she always knew why. This was the gut feeling she got when she was (used to be) out in public and something was soon to happen. Discernment, really. And she’d take her leave before finding out what her body was trying to warn her about. But she was in the house. Where was she to go? Her friend Phyllis was a couple neighborhoods away, that walk alone would most likely put her in danger of whatever her body was alerting her of. She looked over her shoulder. Nothing. She began a walk-through, checking all the doors and windows. The back door was not locked and neither was the guest bathroom window. She began checking the closets and under the beds, nothing. All is well. she hadn’t realized her palms are sweating the more she advanced through the house. She often forgot how big the house was. One story, but five bedrooms and three bathrooms. There could’ve been a fourth one somewhere. She didn’t know and as well didn’t care. She figured all the extra bedrooms were for future children their family wanted them to have. That was never going to happen. She went into the laundry room and sat on the stool she used when her feet became tired. That wasn’t a common occurrence like it used to be since Rafael didn’t have his Poker buddies over anymore. Maybe it was Poker. Could’ve been Dominoes for all she knew. She was just in charge of making snacks for them. She stayed behind closed doors most of the time when company was over. What she wouldn’t know is that one of the guys made a remark about her when she walked away after placing some very well crafted sandwiches on the table. Everyone at the table had looked over at the guy, and he responded with a shrug and a “what?“. “That’s the guy’s wife you’re referring to?” The guy who was introduced as Rafael’s cousin at the wedding, said. Angel, she believed his name was. “It’s not like he even likes her.” The guy said as he proceeded to reach for a sandwich and casually munch, before throwing a card down. Now the table was looking at Rafael, the air thick with anticipation. But nothing happened. There was something in Rafael‘s eye, although very blank, but still nothing happened. And the unusual non-reaction made it all the scarier. Rafael clearly had problems, but that’s a story for another time. And although the guy never came back over after that, he was right.
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Rafael didn’t like her. And the feeling was mutual. All the times she’s ran into him in public, he never had a nice thing to say. Came off like a bully who got what he wanted through intimidation. But she wasn’t intimidated by him. She hated him. She’d kill him if she could. Knowing she wasn’t cut out for prison, kept that intrusive thought at bay. She was only two years into this marriage and fantasized ,almost daily, about running away. She even had dreams that she succeeded and started a life on a farm somewhere far away. And some of the least favorites, where Rafael would find her and drag her back or “make her pay“. And that was the grim reality of it. The laundry room seemed to be the coolest room in the entire house most of the time so once that sinking feeling was finally gone, she made her way back to the kitchen. She decided to make the next three (and some change) hours be her best by pretending she was a 1970s housewife on Quaaludes, finally happy to get some time to herself. She doubled back, passing the laundry room to get to one of the spare bedrooms, she had taken as her own. She opened her nightstand and pulled out a round tin can that was painted purple with a daisy on the front. She took one of the mango-flavored gummies and went back to cleaning.
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Although she hated Rafael, she appreciated that he wasn’t messy. So she rarely had much to clean, a lot of what she did was purely for decoration. And organizing. “You couldn’t pay me enough to stay in the house” she remembered saying about the TradWife lifestyle. She meant it all those years ago and she still did. She began walking in circles around the furniture, the TV on but muted, and the dishes dripping dry on the racks. She felt, closed in. Like she was going mad. She knew there had to be some reasoning to all of this. She told herself that her 30s will be redemption for her 20s, given she hadn’t enjoyed much of her life. But her parents had robbed the opportunity for her.
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They had… given her away . They sat her down just after a week of her 30th and told her that they found someone for her. It sounded like “Go on a few days and see how it goes” at first, and quickly turn into “You have to” deal. Looking at her parents from across the table, she could see they were serious. They had these grim expressions, her dad’s more authoritative and her mom’s more of a “please, forgive us honey” or maybe a “forgive me”. Maxine couldn’t tell because the expression was foreign to her. She for once saying “no” to her parents, her new age, bringing a new attitude with it. But ultimately, she realized she didn’t have a choice. And finding out the guy in question was Rafael, a person she already hated, made her physically recoil. He acted like he was better than everyone. Very self-centered and smug about it too. The complete opposite of what she wanted in a man. They went on a few obviously-for-decoration dates, all reservations. Their meals on the first outing have been paid for by someone, who is still unknown to her. She remembered barely looking at him that night, thankful it was a dim candle lit restaurant. Velvet booths with shiny cherrywood tables, and a live pianist play slow songs. Rafael was by far very attractive, appearance wise. It was his attitude and the drive to always have something discouraging to say that made his entire presence vexing to be around. He was a solid six feet, dark hair that looked thick with heavy oil when combed back, covered in tattoos (neck and hands included) but still plenty of skin showing. He had a sharp (but full) masculine face and a husky voice with a bit of taint in there. Like, you could hear when he was grinning as he spoke when you weren’t looking at him. She hated that she knew these little things about him. He didn’t deserve her. He deserved those dumb bimbos, who thought being spoken down to by a beggar was normal and a funny way of expressing his love. Bless their naive little hearts.
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She plopped down on the recliner when her feet began to throb, her fingers intertwining together. She recalled that feeling of nausea and disbelief when her father (without her mother) showed up to her apartment unannounced; presenting a ring. Something simple, nothing extravagant, but enough to make a point. She remembered the “nope” building up in her throat, feeling herself choking. She had only been “dating“ Rafael for a month at this point, and was hating every moment of it. That’s the only word she could think of when it came to him. Hate. She has so much hatred for him, it was beginning to consume her from the inside out. Like a cyst that kept being filled with sick until the skin around it was beginning to become too thin to hold it in. Ready to pop at any moment. The daydreams kept her stable. As stable as stable could get, anyways. She remembered the look of anger on her dad‘s face. He usually wasn’t like that, but for the entirety of that month, since dating Rafael was forced upon her; he’s been driven up a wall. And still, no answers to why. All she had was theories.
Remembering her parents’ faces that night at the table, especially her mom’s, had brought her to her first one. Something went wrong, perhaps with her dad and Rafael‘s dad and she ended up being “damage control“. It’s like she was lost in a bet and they signed her over. Literally, considering she couldn’t say no. It’s as if “no” was a curse word and this coerced marriage was soap to her taste buds. Her father was a mechanic, so how did she even end up this situation? She didn’t even know that her dad knew Rafael’s, or anyone in his family for that matter. Rafael didn’t want the marriage any more than she did, but he didn’t put up much of a fight. He treated it like a business transaction. She was more than sure a written contract was involved, but has zero proof. The main person affected about this sudden change was the only one left in the dark about it. She was expected to be acquiescent and that…she was. Accepting the ring, reluctantly, was the moment she felt herself breaking into pieces. The feeling of giving up had a metallic but empty feeling to it. And it hung in the air around her.
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She found herself shaking, her palm sweating as she boarded the plane to Arizona with Rafael in tow. She had a fear of dying in a plane crash since she’s existed, but she was actually hoping for one now.
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The wedding was to be held in a Catholic church somewhere in Tucson, because his grandmother was there. She was most likely going to croak soon and wanted to see her youngest grandson married off to someone that was good for him, before doing so. She wasn’t traveling by plane these days or anywhere further than the Bingo Hall or Safeway. So bringing the wedding to her was the best thing to do. Maxine figured once she passed, the marriage could be over. And this lady was pretty damn old, so fingers crossed. But time was dragging his ass.
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Rafael‘s grandmother wanted the twosome to have space for the two days before they were set to get married. Any space Maxine could get before having to spend all day in a home together was a blessing. Rafael didn’t argue and kiss his nana bye. They actually took a liking to each other and just after a day together, Florence (Rafael‘s grandmother) gave Maxine a princess pearl necklace with the gold cross connected in the middle. She wore it to bed that night, crying herself to sleep and waking up with a splitting headache and swollen eyes. Which she of course, blamed on allergies.
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The only thing they kept her smile genuine on the dreadful day was the fact that she looked amazing. She doesn’t ever remember being this beautiful before. Her skin was glowing, and the white dress complimented her complexion. She had a built-in corset in her dress, which also pushed her breast together like two full bags of thickened chocolate custard . The wedding was mostly his family with the inclusion of her parents, but she didn’t converse with much. She absolutely refused to invite her friends to such a façade, she couldn’t bear the thought of it. Maybe in another life. There was no cute cake-feeding moments. They said their “I do’s” (Rafael’s eyes glued to the cross that was nearly submerged between her breasts, like a man lost at sea) and went across the street to have a private meal. The gathering would be the last time she’s seen her parents up until now. They still call, her mom mostly. And would send her money to her account every month, sometimes twice. Compensation, she figured. Which was convenient if she wanted to avoid making Rafael feel needed. Being thirty and asking for money like it’s an allowance didn’t sit right with her.
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The night of the marriage (and clearly the honeymoon as well) Rafael had stepped out of their honeymoon suite, only saying “I’ll be back”. She was only concerned with what his family did to have so much money to purchase the big homes and nice cars they had. Rafael always said “ I work with my dad for the family business“ and left it at that. “Typical Soprano shit“, she thought to herself. She opened the congratulatory champagne and ate a chocolate off the pillow she planned on sleeping on. She want to spend more time with her wedding dress, unfamiliar with the current beauty of such an ugly situation. The thought of this being “forever“ filled her with despair. Regardless, she twirled in the full body mirror.
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Rafael was on the side of the hotel building talking to a brunette, her arms crossed and her head turning away from him. Her name was Chelsy and she had just learned he got married that day. She was livid. Heartbroken. She and him would daydream about having life together, away from the world. She thought he was there to visit her. She felt like he toyed with her emotions and thus, dumped him right then and there. When he protested, claiming his lack of love and genuine interest for his new bride, she wanted to hear no more. She got in her car and zoomed away, leaving him with burning animosity towards this whole situation.
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Something Chelsy would never admit is that she never actually felt that strongly about him. He wasn’t even the only one. He was just so willing, since he liked her so much. His attraction towards her was palpable and that’s what fed her ego. The external validation she needed to feel alive. Like she was someone. She never loved him, but saying it wasn’t that hard. She’s been looking for a way out, and this was a perfect time if there was any. She was smiling to herself, watching him in a rearview mirror as his shoulders slouched with defeat. She let him call a few times, blocking him once she got a voicemail of him drunk, begging an hour after her dramatic exit. She would end up unblocking him months later and reconnecting once she grew bored with the others.
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Rafael decided to stop at the hotel bar before making his way upstairs back to the honeymoon suite. He had been gone for the better part of an hour, drinking his sorrows away, which marinated into seething resentment. The room shifted when his presence was known by Maxine. He wasn’t up there more than five minutes before he tore her dinner dress and proceeded to rape her. Rafael had always been cool and collected, so this aggressive shift was jarring. They missed their reservations that night, that one of his uncles made for them with the check to be covered in advance. He fell asleep on top of her, keeping her pinned with his dead weight. This asshole was actually snoring. She was aware of what happened, but her vision was dazed like she wasn’t sure if this was actually real. Unaware of how she even gotten this far into this contract deal. He didn’t beat her, but the pain was still present. She eventually fell asleep like that, the sun cracking through the window shade, waking her up. She has slept through the night and Rafael still there. She was scared that he had died in the night (alcohol poisoning ,maybe, since she smelled it on him throughout the whole ordeal) but he was still warm. Most of her was numb, due to him still lying on her. His phone was buzzing somewhere on the floor until the hotel’s phone on the nightstand right next to them, began to ring. It was obnoxious, but Maxine didn’t speak a word. She couldn’t. Besides, she needed Rafael to wake up, so she let it ring. And ring. And eventually he began to stir. He grumbled annoyedly, Maxine closing her eyes as she felt he was finally waking up and beginning to move off her chest, which rose weakly; but now better. She felt his eyes on her, but he finally climbed off, grabbing the phone off the receiver. She doesn’t remember the phone call, but could hear a man on the other end, angrily speaking. Presumably, the uncle, who made the reservations. Rafael threw up in the shower that morning, his stomach practically empty. The uncle had made dinner reservations for that night, again, before the departure back home (clearly, they took gift giving very seriously in this family). Except to a home she was unfamiliar with. The current home she felt like a prisoner in. Rafael’s family was clearly loaded, gifting him a house in a cookie cutter neighborhood. They were in the back, more land but still had neighbors on either side. Most of the land being in the back. 2,484 ft.², two car garage, and more rooms than needed. She grabbed the things that were necessary from her apartment. During the time she had assumed Rafael was at work. She didn’t have a car since the city she was originally living in, before the shit-show started, had everything she needed within a walking radius. A lot of the times she’d bike. That was something she wanted desperately to go back for. She didn’t even know where she was. She had been mentally elsewhere, floating in a void the whole flight and drive home. She had no appetite, barely even jet lagged; just…gone. She only shared a bed with him once and that was the first night. She spent the next day getting acquainted with the home while Rafael was off in a circle jerk, or whatever the fuck he did when he wasn’t giving her a hard time. Everything was furnished and decorated. One room had a queen bed whose headboard lined up to a rectangular shaped window a few feet away. It showed the fenced-in backyard in the lush green grass that you knew felt like heaven on your bare soles.
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She knew she could no longer ask her parents for help because they were the very reason she was in the situation. She ordered an Uber to her apartment to get some things after a week of being there. Nothing in the home was truly hers and she wanted to change that. She didn’t know how worse it would get or how long she’ll be in it, but she needed things that made her, her. She filled reusable bags from Aldi with what she could take in a car before requesting a ride back. She was filled with trepidation that her things would be gone from her apartment but found relief and a bit of excitement when everything was just as she left it. Realizing the driver was in an excursion, she grabbed another reusable bag and started looking around her living room for something. Anything.
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She was exhausted by the time the driver arrived, this being the most movement she’s had since being pinned down for hours. She feared that wasn’t the last time something like that would happen and unfortunately, she was right. Depending on how his attitude and demeanor was when he arrived home, she knew what to expect and was yet again acquiescent. The deranged look in his eyes when he stood over her in her doorway and said “I wasn’t asking “ through gritted teeth, said she had better be compliant or it’ll be much worst than it needed to be. She wouldn’t wish this on anyone, but disconnecting and going elsewhere during each assault before becoming numb to it made it the least bit tolerable. It was over before she knew it. It was clear he saved the stamina for the women he actually liked. It stopped for a while about four months into the marriage; this was around the time Chelsea came back. He stayed gone longer, came home happier although clearly still annoyed with her presence. Again, the feeling was mutual. She would make dinner, covered it in foil and left the stove light on, so he knew. Often times he’d come home, already eaten. And often times, she didn’t give a damn.
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When the gummy finally peaked, She stood up from the recliner and began looking through the cassette tapes next to the entertainment system. She popped in a jazz/instrumental mix and walked over to the front door. She looked at the people and could see…nothing. Usually there was a black Chevelle outside, just idling. It had began parking at different parts of the neighborhood, no longer parking directly across the street anymore. Although the tint was dark, she could make out two figures in the car, sitting there. She thought nothing of it that first week of moving in, but then she realized they were only there when Rafael was gone. This was maybe a month later, and of course she kept it to herself. She figured he was connected to them. That day she had first seen them, she was walking to her mailbox and could’ve sworn the driver quickly looked away when she was walking down the driveway towards him. She, herself, was irritable with life in general and avoided eye contact to prevent being spoken to. When she got back inside, she saw the small wrapped box was for her, and there was a card.
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To: Mr and Mrs. Bianchi
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She never wanted to set something on fire so bad in her life. She went from Maxine Dupont to Maxine Bianchi. That shit didn’t even sound right. She left the card to Rafael and opened the box which was her own personal gift. It was a gold cross. Simple, yet feminine-like and sleek. She hadn’t realized she was still wearing the princess pearl from the week prior. “Mrs. Bianchi.” She said mockingly and lead to herself. Later that day she had swapped out the necklaces. “Only God can save you now” an unfamiliar voice said in her head. She felt trapped and shackled. But at least she had the bakery sales and community events to look forward to.
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She decided against going to check the mail, more than sure they were out there. Why wouldn’t they be? But also, why are they? Did they think she was going to run away? God knows she thought about it. Or maybe they (or Rafael) thought she’d bring another man over. Be disloyal to a man she didn’t want nor loved in the first place? No, never. She laughed at that being the reason, but it was true. She wouldn’t cheat. Especially on Rafael. As many journal entries that she’d write or type on her phone, she never admit that she was terrified of his family. She had no idea what he even did, even after two years. She didn’t know what he was capable of, but she can only suspect it was bad. Real bad. If she wanted her gone, she’d be gone. And he wouldn’t be the only one to make that happen. He wouldn’t even have to get his hands dirty if he didn’t want to. That’s the only thing that she found intimidating about him. And that was enough.
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She knew was out “cheating“, and truthfully, she didn’t care. Not an ounce of her cared. Whatever kept him gone longer, (as long as he didn’t bring her diseases) she welcomed it. Her “cheating” assumptions were confirmed when a condom fell out of his pocket just the other day during laundry. A pair of his favorite slacks he wore at least once a week that always had the deep iron crease mid-legs. Once his clothes were all done, she put it right back in the pocket and left them on the bed for him to put away. There was a bakery sale coming up the following weekend so she decided to test something new for an after dinner treat. She pulled the cover off her KitchenAid mixer and paused. She clutched her cross in her hand and whispered in an exasperated “thank you”, before continuing to set up her attachment. Another statement, you refused to write down or even say aloud, is that she was never going to bear a child. Not for Rafael. Not for anyone. Not that she thought he would want one, with her at all people. He’s never mentioned wanting to be a father once to her, but regardless, she couldn’t. When she was 26, just four years before she was “sold away” to this fool, she had underwent tubal ligation surgery. Bilateral Salpingectomy to be exact. Dr. Anderson, her doctor she had been going to since she was 19, reluctantly gave it to her. She had been turned away by other physicians and went as far as creating a small binder as to why she “wasn’t too young to make this decision“. This binder she gave to Dr. Anderson, fingers crossed he would do it. He had mentioned years prior that she needed to “give it time” so he wasn’t her first or second stop. But then, her only option. He read the notebook, twice, once aloud to his wife later that night during dinner. “Sounds like she knows what she wants. I’d say, do it.” Mrs. Anderson said with a shrug before mixing her peas with her mashed potatoes. And he did. He called her the next day and scheduled her procedure on one of his slower days. She gave him a big smile after the surprisingly quick procedure, looking over at the blood covered utensils before smiling ear to ear; even with the slight discomfort in her lower abdomen.
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She began laughing to herself when she realized how lucky she was given her circumstances. But in the back of her head, she wondered if Rafael was wondering why she hadn’t yet fallen pregnant. Is that why his family gave them a house with all these extra rooms? Because they expected her to pop out a few rugrats and really let the TradWife lifestyle consume her like a vulture, picking at roadkill. She decided thinking about it wasn’t doing any good for her. If no one has talked about it in all these seasons, no need to conjure up suspicions. Plus there was nothing she could do. Her tubes had been removed. Originally she wanted them snipped and burned closed. Dr. Anderson understood now, how badly she wanted to avoid motherhood so she suggested something much more effective, keeping her price just the same. He had passed a year and a half after the procedure. Something about his arteries. He loved bacon, she remembered. Couldn’t get enough of it.
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She felt safe, now. Secure that that’s one less thing to worry about. Why would anyone want to have a baby with a man like Rafael. He had absolutely no compassion or consideration for others (or maybe it was just her). There had to be some compassion in there somewhere right? she thought. Maybe his dad has to die or something, who knows. She gave herself a half nod before preheating the oven.
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-End of chapter 1-
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