Addy was convinced that no matter where she fled, Lionel would track her down. Because he was such a glad-handed phony, he had associates all over the country. He even had their neighbors and friends fooled. After all, he was a deacon at church, coached Little League baseball, and golfed with his neighborhood buddies and co-workers. Addy learned early on that he didn’t want her to get too close to the women in the small circle of couples they knew. If he found out she had been for coffee or lunch at a neighbor’s, he would fly into a rage, pointing out the housework she had failed to do. Eventually, Addy understood this was his way of keeping her from spilling her guts about the abuse. Addy learned to stay home, working around the house all day and reading women’s magazines when her chores were completed.
As Lionel constantly reminded her, she was so lucky to have a nice house and a beautiful yard maintained by Tim, the neighborhood youth Lionel had accused her of fucking. Yes, Addy did use those words in her head, keeping herself entertained by her rebellious thoughts. Wouldn’t Aunt Sophia and Aunt Hazel have died a much earlier death if she had dared let the “F” word slip from her lips? Actually, she had never heard the “F” word until Lionel used it with her. Addy was puzzled how a man who portrayed himself as an upstanding Catholic could use such filthy language in the bedroom.
Addy eventually settled upon the opinion that Lionel was crazy. He fashioned himself after the imaginary “Father Knows Best” radio program where the wise, infinitely patient, and loving dad would come home to his happy, zany family. In Lionel’s house, they had to be seated around the dining room table at precisely six o’clock, no exceptions. Addy and the children internalized all of Lionel’s rules in order to keep the peace.
Things might have been okay, really, if only Lionel were nicer. Addy would love to pamper a good man. She imagined her mom had probably spoiled her dad because he looked like a man who treated his wife lovingly and respectfully. At least that is what Addy gathered from her aunts’ descriptions of her father. In fact, Sophia and Hazel had often shed tears over how much they missed their little brother and how sweet he had been to them.
One afternoon, Addy was reading a true story about a woman whose husband beat her regularly, even while she was pregnant. At least Lionel’s attacks lightened up while Addy was expecting. She often wished she could have been one of those Catholic baby-machines constantly knocked-up so Lionel would be less violent. Addy had three children: Peter, James, and little Mary. Although Lionel was excessively strict and militaristic with the kids, he did refrain from hitting them.
Lionel seemed to time Addy’s thrashings when the children were not around. He frequently revealed his demonic temper to the children by shouting and slamming things, but he never laid a hand on them. Maybe he sensed that if he hurt the kids, his submissive little Addy would rise up, a wounded mother bear, and somehow find the courage to rip him to pieces. The children did learn early on though, to “walk on eggs” so as not to set Daddy off. What if they weren’t asleep on the nights he attacked Addy? Whenever that thought rose in her mind, Addy immediately dismissed it. Her children were her reason to live; her angels; saviors; her precious charges, and she tried to shield them from pain and ugliness.
The magazine article Addy was reading that afternoon went on to describe the many horrible things this man did. If he did not like what his wife prepared for dinner, he would smash the plate of food on the floor. At least that had never happened to Addy. She learned to cook exactly what Lionel favored so he usually approved of the meals presented before him.
Some compassionate nuns helped the abused woman to escape to a safe place, but the woman soon went back to her husband who eventually beat her to death. This story made Addy’s stomach turn, yet she could understand. When you feel you have lost all hope, it is sometimes easier to lie down and give up.
Chapter II
Confession
Some people who go to Catholic school hate nuns, but Addy did not. Her teachers at St. Mary’s were very intelligent and treated her gently, perhaps because she was an orphan. In addition, many of these women had been missionaries and shared vivid stories about the difficult circumstances they encountered when sent to poor countries to establish hospitals and schools.
Nuns take vows of poverty and chastity, and for the most part, seem to lead humble, simple existences. Helena had always reminded Addy that the nuns had the lowest position in the Catholic Church acting as maids to the priests.
When Addy recalled the over-stuffed, pompous priests who visited with Aunts Sophia and Hazel after Mass, vows of poverty and chastity never came to mind. On the contrary, those priests lived lives of luxury, with collections of fine china and crystal, summer homes, trips to the opera in New York City, and frequent vacations abroad. When Addy got older, she was shocked to learn that the Church never defrocked errant priests but simply transferred them to other parishes or positions. This information made her secretly hate those priests, but of course, she never shared her feelings with Lionel. Parish-funded hedonism … that is how Addy viewed the life of a priest.
Naturally, Lionel loved the priests. In many ways, he was like the worst of the wicked among them: hypocritical, self-indulgent, and vile. Addy, always fair-minded, however, knew that not all priests were bad. She had read that in the olden days, Catholic families felt especially blessed if their sons became men of the cloth. Many poor parents saw the priesthood as the only hope for their sons to receive an education as well as free room and board. Addy wasn’t sure, but she suspected these priests were probably decent fellows. Still, she hoped her sons Peter and James would never consider a religious vocation. Lionel, on the other hand, would have loved if the boys chose the priesthood. Then he could puff up even more while he played the role of the devout, humble deacon. What Lionel didn’t know was that Addison viewed God as a vengeful puppeteer watching his pathetic creation limp along in suffering and pain. After all, hadn’t she prayed for an end to this living nightmare of life with Lionel? She knew she had to stay for the children’s sake. She stopped praying about the abuse and just wished Lionel would die.
Lionel’s beliefs about God were straight out of the Baltimore Catechism. Addy still remembered that thin, blue-covered book: the doctrine for Catholic children. When she was a child, the drawings of two bottles of milk had intrigued her. One bottle held plain white milk, but the other contained black flecks. The dirty milk represented the soul of a sinner. After all these years, Addy still recalled the rote responses she had memorized:
Question: “Who made us?”
Answer: “God made us.”
Question: “Why did God make us?
Answer: “God made us to show forth his goodness and to share with us his everlasting happiness in Heaven.”
All Catholic children learn about two kinds of sins: mortal and venial. Mortal sins are transgressions against the Ten Commandments, whereas venial sins are less serious. Addy’s eyes filled with tears when she remembered herself as an innocent little girl confessing she had “stolen a grape” from the grocer’s display. She did not want to take the grape, but Helena put her up to it. Addy admired Helena so much; she would do almost anything to maintain their friendship.
Although to the outside world, Addy’s may have appeared the ideal Catholic life, how comically far from the truth. Lionel had made her “damaged goods,” just like the aunts’ view of Helena and her mother, Mary Kurowski. Addy was certain that Helena and her mom had never participated in the smutty things Lionel forced her to do. The few times she protested, Lionel made it clear that, as a Catholic wife, she must submit to her husband. Aunts Sophia and Hazel had often praised Lionel for coming along and saving Addy from the life of sin and degradation she might have faced if she had moved to New York with Helena…what irony.
When Catholics go to Confession, they name their sins, and the