A Rose Has Thorns

A Rose Has Thorns

Arch was behind her as they headed into the garage. She grabbed the keys from the hook and said, “I’ll drive,” in her most breezy voice. He didn’t fall for it.

“I’ll drive!” He menaced.

It wasn’t even 1:00pm and he’d already downed 3 boilermakers and the 3 remaining beers from the six-pack. He wanted to get the lawn mowed before they joined her family for a 4^th of July barbecue. And mowing, like most any other task, required drinking.

Rose wasn’t surprised she had fallen in love with Arch all those years ago. He’d been charming and ambitious, and she’d been young and tolerant. In the decades since, she had come to understand the folk wisdom that men marry women thinking they’ll never change, and women marry men thinking they can change them.

But she was starting to wonder why she was staying with this bully. Since the kids had left and he’d retired from his firm the year before, he was becoming increasingly unpredictable. Scary, really.

She hadn’t noticed it in his working years; they had both been busy with other things. But since he took the golden handshake, he’d lost his sense of self-worth. And that made him angry. And therefore, she made him angry. He needed to assert the dominance that he once left in the courtroom, and now their home had become her trial. Everyday a new charge.

“Arch,” she said now, “I’ll drive and you can relax. I know you’re tired from working in the yard.” She hated how she sounded. Pandering. Pathetic.

He grabbed the keys out of her hand and slid the green and white Coleman cooler they’d packed into the bed of the truck.

“I’m fine. Just get in the truck, Rose.” Her name sounded like a curse spit out from his clenched jaw.

He knew her real underlying concern. His drinking. Which she avoided mentioning to try to keep the peace. But he was convinced he could drink much more than the average person because of his size. He was 6’4” and 285 lbs.

Rose hoped he would pass out later at her sister’s place. Then she wouldn’t have to fight the battle to get them home safely. They’d help her get him in the truck and she’d let him sleep in the garage until he woke up.

Now she watched helplessly as he tried to fit the key into the ignition, missing the mark three times before it finally slid in.

“Just let me drive, honey! Please!” She pleaded. His face was red. From the sun and the drinking and the anger.

“GET IN!”

“I forgot something, and I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back” Rose turned and knicked back into the house, trying to buy some time. In the kitchen, she grabbed her Le Creuset Dutch oven and lugged it out to the truck.

“Carrie asked me to bring this.” She took her time settling the heavy pot into the footwell of the passenger seat.

“I need to pee and then I’ll be ready.” He had the air on inside the truck and was listening to something on XM. He didn’t respond.

Rose locked herself into the first-floor half-bath and turned the water on. She called Carrie.

“Hey, Rosie! Are you close?” Carrie was chipper.

“We haven’t left yet.” Rose whispered. “Arch has been drinking. A lot. And he won’t let me drive.”

“Shit! Are you okay?” Carrie’s voice had gone from party hostess to hostage negotiator.

“I am. I’m trying to stall so maybe he can sober up a little before we leave.” Her hand was cupped over the phone.

“Good idea.”

“But he’s already in the truck waiting for me!”

Boom, boom, boom. The bathroom door shook with his fist.

“Let’s go, Rose!” He hadn’t heard her talking to Carrie.

“I’m coming! I’ll be there in a minute. Can you call Paul and see if they need anything else before we take off?” She yelled through the door.

Paul was Carrie’s husband and the two men had known each other for years. She knew Arch would comply. He liked to come to the rescue of other people; provide something they lacked.

“Okay.” She heard his voice as he trailed off toward the kitchen.

“Tell Paul to ask for the folding chairs.” She instructed Carrie. “They’re in the attic and it will take him a while to get them down.”

“Okay, hold on.” Carrie went to find Paul and relay the message.

“Paul’s on it. Arch was calling right as I walked up. Do you want me to come get you, Rose?”

“No, no, no! You have everybody there, and Arch would freak out if he knew I told you. We’ll just be later than planned. I’ll do the best I can. See you soon.” Rose clicked off.

She noticed her hands were shaking as she tried to navigate this increasingly familiar terrain of managing the unmanageable. She looked in the mirror and saw resignation staring back.

Boom, boom, boom. Arch was back.

“Paul wants those folding chairs we have. I’m going up to the attic to grab them.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a minute to help.”

“Forget it. Just get in the car when you’re done. I don’t need any help.”

She heard him heavy on the stairs, climbing right over her head as she stood in the bathroom. He opened the attic and pulled down the ladder-stairs with a muffled thump on the hallway carpet.

Rose washed her hands to complete the show and headed to the truck. He’d left the driver’s door open, and the keys in the ignition. She climbed up into the driver’s seat and shut the door, hoping he’d forget, or let it go. Within a few minutes, Arch came in with his arms full of backyard chairs. He looked at Rose, then went back to the tailgate and hoisted the aluminum chairs into the bed. She was praying he’d keep going and get in on the passenger side. She tried not to look in the mirrors to see what he was doing.

The door yanked opened.

“Move!” He glared at her.

“Arch, pl . . .” His hands came up fast and pushed her toward the other seat. Hard. Her hip and thigh hit the gear shift and the center console. She knew there would be a bruise. She started to cry quietly and was afraid for him to see her. He had never gone that far.

Rose buckled her seatbelt and turned to look out her window, keeping her eyes off her husband.

“I told you I was driving, didn’t I?! Why can’t you just do what I tell you to do!”

He backed out of the drive, barely missing the mailbox and running up on the lawn, leaving a track he would blame on the neighborhood teenagers when he saw it later.

They navigated the local streets with no problem. Arch was driving the 35 miles speed limit and stopping at all the signs. Rose started to relax in her seat and removed her foot from the imaginary passenger side break. The radio was on so they didn’t have to talk. He could keep his mind on the road ahead.

At the on ramp, they had to speed up and merge onto the interstate. The freeway was packed in all three lanes; everyone headed to a picnic for the 4^th. Rose turned in her seat to find a space for them to ease into traffic, but there wasn’t anything. The lanes were full and moving 65-70 mph, and nobody was slowing to let them in. They would have to stop and wait, but Arch had his foot pressed hard to the accelerator.

“Slow down!” Rose felt panicked. He’d never be able to merge in and he was still accelerating.

“Jesus, Rose. Calm down.” He glanced in her direction and the truck swerved. He overcompensated and they hit the gravel before he straightened it out. Rose’s seatbelt pulled tight against her. His mistake pissed him off, and he accelerated more as they came off the ramp. With nowhere to go, he rode the shoulder at 70 mph, a cloud of dust in their wake. Rose was terrified and stayed silent as she was battered by the turbulence.

Finally, someone made a space and they moved into the lane. Arch was drunker than she realized and they were drifting dangerously left and right. Other drivers were beeping, flipping them off.

Rose was terrified and didn’t think she’d make it to Carrie’s house. She pulled out her phone.

“Who are you calling?” He demanded to know.

“I’m going to call Carrie and let her know we’re running late.”

Rose punched the buttons and held the phone tight to her right ear, away from Arch.

“911. What us your emergency?”

“Hi Carrie. I’m just calling to let you know we’re running late.”

“Ma’am, this is 911. Do you have an emergency?”

“Yes, I know. We’re on 95 and the traffic is crazy.”

“Are you in danger, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, are you headed North.”

“Uh-huh.” Rose confirmed.

“Can you say where you are on 95.”

“Probably about 30 minutes or so. We’re just passing exit, um . . .” Rose peered at the sign ahead. “Exit 18.”

“Ma’am, I can hear beeping. Are people beeping at your vehicle?”

“Yes, you know us. Always late to the party.”

“Ma’am, we’re getting calls from other drivers in the vicinity reporting a dangerous driver. Are you in that vehicle?”

“Oh, for sure!”

“Got it. Is it Connecticut license number . . . SJJ-471? Blue Dodge Ram?”

“Yes, okay. I’ll let him know. See you all soon.”

“We have a unit on the way to you, ma’am.”

“You, too! Bye.”

Rose hung up.

“What are you going to let me know?” Arch asked.

“What?” Rose didn’t even realize what she had been saying.

“You said, ‘I’ll let him know.’ What are you supposed to let me know?”

“Oh! She just wanted you to know that Paul is going to have a cold one waiting for you.”

The sirens covered her giggle as they pulled onto the shoulder.