My Body is a Cage and Other Stories

I felt equal parts excitement and dread when I went home that night. He was sitting on the
sofa. Said “We need to talk.” No shit.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Emma, what the fuck just happened?”
“I stole your girlfriend.”
Then he snapped, like all men do. Began yelling so,so loud. What was I talking about?
He would never do that to me. Whatever she told mewas a lie, he said. That’s when I knew for
sure I had married a stupid man. I can handle denial,but it’s the loudness I can’t stand. You see, I
was raised by a man who liked to be loud when somethingwasn’t going his way. My husband
knew this. So I just watched his performance and didn’tflinch. Men don’t like it when you don’t
flinch. So he knocked the lamp off the side table.Everything went silent.
“Wow,” I said. He started crying.
He said he was sorry, that he knew he didn’t deserveme but he would do anything to get
me to stay. My poor husband, who was raised Presbyterian,asked me to forgive him. And by the
way he asked, I knew he expected me to. But the manwho raised me was Baptist, and the Baptist
god is a hateful god. I liked seeing him on his knees.I asked him what he would give me if I
stayed, knowing I would not. He said everything. EverythingI wanted. What did I want from
him? To be moved out of our house by next week, preferably.
I never in a million years expected any of this. Morespecifically, her. Do you know what
I mean? The sense of desperation as you plead forJolene to leave your man alone - the lyrics are
frantic. Like she came out of nowhere and ransackedyour home and is holding something you
love dearly hostage. I know that desperation, butit wasn’t so terrible for me. She must not have
loved him as thoroughly as she loved me, because ifshe had he would have never returned