The Monroe Legacy - G.1 Chapter 10 - Shadows of the Past

Disclaimer - This chapter contains bad language and references to adult themes which some people may find distressing. Please do not read on if this may offend or upset you.  Rose X

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Never had Marlie looked forward to a Tuesday so eagerly. She went through her meager wardrobe and found an outfit she hadn't worn since before the girls were born. Brody called but wouldn't say where they were going so she guessed that smart casual would cover all bases.

Thay had agreed to go for lunch so that the Taranowskis would watch the girls, school didn't start for another week and neither Brody or Marlie wanted to wait that long. For the first time in forever Marlie was giddy, her stomach a-flutter with nerves and desire. She got ready carefully, even taking the time to straighten her hair with an ancient flat-iron, it sparked so often it was a miracle she didn't set herself on fire.

Ben was waiting in a cab, she didn't want the beginning of their date to be complicated by having to remind the girls who he was and explain where she was going. As she slipped in to the back she was suddenly nervous, what if it went wrong, what if he was only interested in a physical relationship, what if....

'Relax Marlie,' said Brody smiling across at her and interrupting her private meltdown, 'It's going to be great'. With that her reached across and squeezed her hand and Marlie began to think that maybe he was right.

Brody took her to a little bistro in the middle of town, it was a sunny day, the snow had disappeared for a day or two and the romantic outdoor terrace was heated. It was quiet at lunchtime and they fell easily in to small-talk and flirtation. But when the mains came out Brody shuffled in his chair and cleared his throat.

'Marlie' he began, sounding nervous. 'I really like you, but I do have some concerns. I feel like this could be something special, but I don't know anything about you. I've told you about my family, about my past. All I know is that you're a beautiful, kind-hearted single mother. I want to know more about you, about how you got here, about the reasons why you're raising the girls alone rather than with a loving husband at your side'.

Marlie sighed. She had known that this was likely to come up but she dreaded beginning her tale - knowing that her troubled past was another big thing to ask any man to take on.

'Okay' she answered, 'but please just listen, if I'm going to tell you I have to do it in one go or I might break down. And please - know that I'm okay now, I couldn't stand to see pity in your eyes.'

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'I grew up in the city of Bridgeport and my earliest memories are happy ones. I remember my mom and I laughing together, singing and dancing, swinging in the garden and making cookies. We were poor but we were happy. We lived in a trailer on the outside of the city next to a warehouse that only seemed to be open at night. I guess looking back it was probably a criminal hang out but I didn't realise that then.

The trailer was grimy and old, my Mom kept it neat but there's only so much you can do when the dirt is ingrained two generations deep. I slept in the corridor as there was only one room but my mom had bought me special bed-sheets in the dollar store to make my sleeping place my own.

I spent most of my time outside, running about with the neighbourhood kids, getting dirty. My mom would jokingly scold me - she said that her mother had said all little girls should wear white but that I was the exception - I just couldn't stay clean. My dresses were much like the trailer - they never washed completely clean but we made the best of it - I still remember helping my Mom sew a ruffle made of an old table cloth around the bottom of all my dresses when they got too short for me and we couldn't afford new ones. I suppose times were tough but I never really realised it.

My daddy was in the forces and in my head he was a bit like Santa Claus - he would appear occasionally with gifts and make me and mom really happy. They had been childhood sweethearts and had married at 18, in the wedding photo she was so beautiful, like a princess but these days she mainly wore the uniform of the diner she worked at.

When I was about eight daddy came back - but things were different this time. He was fatter, angrier and he drank a lot of beer. I used to hear crying in their room at night and I couldn't understand why mom was so sad - daddy was back with us and he said he was here to stay.

Soon afterwards the shouting started, I heard mom screaming things about court martial, PTSD, friendly fire and my daddy bellowing back about affairs and lies. I didn't know what they meant, I just wished it would stop and that we could be happy together like we used to be.

But things got worse. I took to staying outside anytime except at bed time so I didn't have to witness the fights. Daddy would spend a lot of time in bed, work out a lot and drink a lot of his special 'Moonshine'.

He got stronger and he got meaner.

My mother worked even longer hours at the diner and she kept "having accidents". She broke her finger carrying a tray, cut her lip on a cracked glass, one time I got back from school and she was black and blue - she told me she'd fallen down the steps. I was too young to understand the truth of her situation.

To try and make up for everything my mum made me a secret hideout in the garden. Hidden between the washing line and some sprawling thorn bushes she planted colourful wildflowers and set up an old doll house that she'd had as a girl.

She told me that I shouldn't tell daddy because it was for girls only - I would sneak in every time the shouting was bad inside. I spent hours in my hideout - it was my special place and I would play families in the dollhouse - families where the mummy and daddy hugged each other and the little girl was a princess.

I was in my hideaway the night that the screaming didn't stop. I put my fingers in my ears and sang  Twinkle Twinkle Little Star over and over again, I could still hear smashing plates, dull thwacks and obscenities pouring from the trailer.

I didn't even see my mother leaving. I didn't get to say good-bye. I found out later that she'd got a job in a crappy bar in Vegas but I never saw her again.

My daddy told everyone she was selling herself after he had kicked her out for "Bein' a cheatin. no good whore". She sent a letter every Christmas and birthday but  they always arrived via daddy - pre-opened and crumpled. I guess she was sending money and he was helping himself. He told me over and over that she left because she didn't love us - me specifically. The letters stopped the year I turned fourteen. Daddy said that she died.


After she left things got worse. My daddy watched watch me constantly - soon discovering my secret hideaway and tearing up the flowers. He would make me cook and clean - screaming that I was trash when things went wrong, blaming me for my mother leaving.

Bad became normal and every night when he was out with his buddies I'd clutch the bear my mother had given me, the bear I hid under the trailer so my dad wouldn't find it, and pray for things to change and for my mom to come home.

I grew up into an angry, scared teenager, I believed that I was worthless. After being "visited" one night in my bed by a friend of my daddy's I took to skipping school and sleeping in the day, spending my nights wandering through Bridgeport, planning for the day when I could leave.

It was one such night that I met Carlos. He was the wealthy son of a local "business man" and was the first boy to look at me.

I was fourteen and I'd just started at high school where everyone ignored me except to yell names. I was the trailer trash daughter of a whore and a drunk and they never let me forget it. Carlos showered me with compliments and gifts, I was so dazzled that when he asked me to deliver a package to the docks for him I didn't hesitate to accept. When I peeked in the bag I'd been given to bring back I was shocked to see a heap of cash and a gun.

I asked Carlos what I had delivered and he just smirked and said it wasn't important that I know, my face was too pretty and innocent to waste. My insecurities made me see the compliment in that statement, I knew I was mixed up in something bad but I felt wanted and special for the first time in years.

When Carlos kissed me he made me feel special and important, I willingly gave him my body and was soon completely drawn into his world. Soon I was running "errands" for him, or more likely his father, every week, narrowly escaping arrest on several occasions. I might never have escaped if I hadn't caught him with another girl one night.

When I confronted him he sneered at me,

'You really thought I was going to stand by the worthless daughter of the local drunk forever? You're a useful little slut, nobody suspects a sweet little blonde and you're enthusiastic enough in the sack but I wouldn't be caught dead in public with you on my arm. My Pa has big plans for me and none of them involve a two-bit hick from the wrong side of town.'

I never saw Carlos again and despite the cruelty of his behaviour I didn't believe I deserved anything more.  Soon I was completely isolated, my dad was barely there, I had no friends but I didn't care any more.

I was 15 when my dad was arrested for sexually assaulting another teenager. I felt nothing as I watched him sentenced. I felt nothing as I watched social services pack all my belongings in to a single bag to move in to the houses. I felt nothing as I said good-bye to the only home I'd ever known.

It's 10 years since I entered the system and it's taken me a long time to realise that none of it was my fault and that I deserved better. I moved here to start again, to a place where nobody knew me. The girls' father was the perfect example of the kind of guy I let use me to make me feel wanted. He was just another Carlos and I know now not to fall for it.

All I want is for my girls to live a good life, to be able to look themselves in the mirror and feel that they can do anything. For myself? I want to know on the day I die that I did not allow my childhood to determine my fate, that I was strong enough to be happy despite the shadows of my past.'

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For the first time since she began her story Marlie looked across at Brody nervously playing with the hem of her skirt, expecting to see horror or, worse yet, pity written across his features.

Instead she saw an expression she'd never seen before, Marlie could afterwards only describe it as a fierce look in his eyes. Without a word he stood up and pulled her to his chest, wrapping her in an embrace that felt so solid and safe that Marlie was overcome with the tears she'd suppressed throughout her tale.

Brody held her as she sobbed, stroking her shoulders and when she was done he stroked her cheek saying in a voice that was rough with emotion,

'You are so strong Marlie, I hope that you'll let me be there so you don't have to always be strong. Let me protect you and prove to you that I deserve to be by your side. I don't know where this is going but I promise that I will never hurt you like that, I will never raise a hand to you and I will NEVER be a Carlos.'

Marlie gave him a watery smile and he pulled her close for a kiss that was full of all the fragile hopes and heartfelt promises that each of them were building around the other.

They parted at Marlie's door each thinking that maybe, just maybe, that would be their last ever first date.

Marlie was barely listening when Mrs Taranowski started talking to her, her thoughts were following Brody home, but when she heard the words

'The girls have seen an orange SUV with tinted windows idling out front a few times now', Marlie snapped back into reality. Could it be NJ? 

Later that night when Marlie was working out on the lawn she became aware of an engine behind her. She spun round to see a flash of blonde hair through a crack in the window as the driver of an orange SUV shrieked in to a U-turn and hurtled away down the road. Marlie strained to see the license plate but only caught the first three numbers.

She hurried inside, locking the doors and putting a chair under the handle. She found the number of a local PI in the newspaper but knew that it'd be beyond her means at that moment. She crawled into bed and slept fitfully, dreaming of speeding SUVs, doll houses and of Brody.

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Phew!

That one ended up rather long - thanks for reading to the end. I didn't want to reveal too much about Marlie by doing a prologue at the beginning as all of her back story contributes to the overall mystery tale which is unfolding. This is kind of it - is this what you expected of her past from the hints before?

Next time on The Monroe Legacy - Marlie tracks down the orange SUV, Brody meets the girls, the girls start at school and Marlie has a birthday!

Read it now in The Monroe Legacy Chapter 11 - The Most Wonderful Time of the Year