“One time?”
Her brow creased and she looked down at her wringing hands. “One time I came home from the store, and Tim and Lance were watching the game. I came in and asked him to help me unload the bags from the car. I even made a comment that it was halftime and there wasn’t much to carry. Lance said sure but never moved. Tim stared at me the whole time—he did that a lot. I always felt like he was watching me. A few trips back-and-forth from the garage and I finally emptied the car. I said something to Lance about leaving me to do it all by myself. He looked at me and said I never asked for help.”
The exasperation in her face made it clear she had. Fanning out her hands, she turned to Pat and said, “I had a whole conversation with him about giving me a hand. He even asked if I bought more chips and I said yes. His friend witnessed the whole thing. But as he sat there and told me I never said a word, Tim agreed with him. I spent the rest of the day laying down, wondering if I had some sort of episode.”
Because that was what gaslighters did, they wore down their victims. “How long were things like this going on?”
“Part of me thinks he was always doing it, but it only became evident when I moved in with him, particularly after I stopped working.”
“Because you were more reliant on him?”
“Yes. It was like he knew he could push my buttons and I had no leverage to push back. He kept me so tied up in emotional knots, I didn’t feel confident about finding another job. And I didn’t want to come home. I really, with all my heart, wanted to make us work. I tried everything to make him happy, but I was always screwing up.”
“It’s not screwing up when someone consistently changes the rules without warning.”
She nodded, but her eyes remained sad. “I started keeping lists of things I did, so I wouldn’t second guess myself. The amount of time I dedicated to creating a paper trail was ridiculous. Some days I’d get so furious with myself, because I knew this wasn’t normal, healthy relationship behavior. I’d think about leaving, but he always sensed when I was at wits’ end and he would do something incredibly sweet. I’m not talking about small gestures. I’m talking about redefining big gestures, like taking a week off to take me away. We’d spend days laughing and making love, and I’d leave convinced everything was better, sure that I’d made things worse in my head than they actually were. Lance used to tell me I exaggerated situations in my head, because I had too much time on my hands.”
“Projecting. He was accusing you of his own behaviors.”
“I guess.”
They sat in silence for several minutes. He needed a moment to process everything she said, certain it was abuse but also certain such an obscure form of slow manipulation could feel like insanity gradually setting in. But she wasn’t crazy.
“Have you talked to anyone about this, Julie?”
“No. I’ve read a few books and that’s helping, but there was no way I could have met with a psychologist without Lance knowing. And if he knew, he would have said I was being dramatic or overly sensitive.”
Because God forbid she actually get help and figure a way out from under his control. “How did you get away?”
“We had a fight about the wedding. He said he was going then acted like I totally imagined it. It was a bad fight. I told him I was done and he snapped.” She was quiet for a moment, likely replaying some of the harsh things he said. “The next morning, I got up, threw a few things in a box, packed a bag, and I left. He thinks I’m coming back.”
A chill seemed to shudder across his heart. “Are you?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t.” He turned to better face her and took her hand. “Don’t go back to that, Jules. Don’t go back to him.”
Her gaze darted away as her eyes flooded with tears. “I’m trying. I hate who I am with him, but it’s like he’s inside of me, this insidious voice I can’t outrun. He won’t leave me alone long enough to think things through—”
“Because he knows time will make you stronger.”
“I don’t feel strong. I feel confused and broken and scared.”
He didn’t have a right to touch her, but he wanted desperately to comfort her. “Listen to me. You are not a weak woman. You’re smart and beautiful and resilient. He’s the weak one. That’s why he is the way he is. Every time he acts big, it’s because he feels threatened and small. You don’t need him, Julie. He needs you.”