I want him to squeeze, to show me his anger and to further invoke mine. Men like him only know what they want, what they feel entitled to take and to use. They do not know rejection, certainly not from someone like me, who has nothing they give any weight to or measure. Do it, I think. Squeeze. I want him to give me something to hate him for, something that will stamp out this need for his presence, his touch—his love. I challenge him with my eyes and set my lips in defiance. I want him to handle me wrong or say the wrong thing just once. That kind of anger I can identify with, I’m used to defending myself. I’m used to that type of pain and what it brings. I’m used to fighting to separate myself from it so that I can survive. My body goes rigid as I prepare to strike back. “What do you want?” His words are thick and move across my lips as he lingers there searching my face. Something unexplainable wells up inside of me like a ball and I begin to feel as if I cannot breathe. It is not. "Marcy suddenly seemed to be deep in thought. Moments later she looked up and spoke."You know, I can help Karen with everything." She offered.I looked at Marcy. Something told me this was not a good idea."You know, that would work great." My sister Laura started, "You could help Karen get into her gown and all, and Brian and I can get over to the church. He has ushering duties you know."Laura looked up at me and smiled. Marcy seemed to be smiling as well. I seemed to be the only one who was not smiling."Um, I guess this will work." I finally said.Marcy disappeared into the bedroom presumably to help Karen get dressed in her gown. Almost immediately people finished up the last of their drinks and arrangements were made as to who would be driving with whom over to the church. It was agreed Laura would be driving me over in her car. Marcy would end up driving Karen in my car. How anyone else got there, frankly I didn't really care. Soon Laura and I were off to the church. Laura had us.
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