Little Wife Gets A Little Smaller

Little Wife wasn’t always little.  She remembered a day when she stood tall, slim and proud in her lacy Victorian wedding dress.  She remembered being pretty and funny, clever and smart.  She was confident in herself and sure of her plans.  All her hopes and dreams were coming true.  If she had an idea, Little Wife was bound to see it to fruition.  She remembered how she had always achieved positive results and successful outcomes, good grades in school, accomplishments above and beyond.

Surely Little Wife was often singled out for special honors and was seen at every scene.

What on earth happened to Little Wife? How did she begin to shrink?

One day in the early days of her marriage to Big Man, Little Wife carried the groceries up to their second floor apartment.  She returned to the car several times to bring up the weekly groceries that would bring strength and power to her Big Man. 

She loved Big Man, and she began to unpack the food and sort it out on the counter according to frozen, cold and canned goods. She thought of the delicious meals she would prepare for him.  And she could hear him waking up from his nap on the lumpy couch.

She turned to look over her shoulder with a happy smile on her face and asked “How was your day, dear?”

Big Man pushed Little Wife and sent her flying across the kitchen. Caught off-guard, she fell, crashing into the chair, crashing onto the table and then onto the floor.  The sharp screaming pain in her side and chest sucked all the breath out of Little Wife.  She lay on the floor for a minute, gathering her air, her thoughts and her courage.

Big Man was yelling, “I told you to be quiet when you bring in the groceries, you knew I was sleeping and still you made so much noise.  I know you always do it on purpose to get back at me.  Always trying to get so much attention.  How can a guy get any sleep around here with you trudging up and down those stairs and banging around with all these stupid bags of groceries?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Little Wife saw him walk out of the kitchen.  Holding tightly to the chair, she dragged herself to her feet and as silently as possible, she tiptoed to the phone on the wall.  She dialed quietly and quickly and heard the mother of Big Man answer the phone.

“Hello?”

Little Wife whispered into the phone, “Cindy, hi it’s me.  I need … help…”

And then Big Man grabbed the phone out of her hand and angrily slammed it down.  “Get away from here.  Get in the bedroom.  Now.”

Tears streaming and panic rising, Little Wife limped to the bedroom with Big Man’s iron fist clenched around her arm.  He flung her into the room.  “Just stay in here awhile til you learn how to respect me.  You’re such a mess, just look at you. Will you just get yourself some pretty clothes on and brush your hair.  Then maybe I’ll be able to look at you.”  The door slammed shut and she heard the click of the lock.

Little Wife sat on the floor next to the bed holding her arm tightly to her side where her cracked ribs were still screaming in pain.  But she was silent.  She didn’t say a word.  She couldn’t say a word.  And inside of herself, Little Wife was shrinking.

She was getting smaller and smaller in her hopes and dreams.  Her confidence and joy leaked out of her eyes and tumbled down her cheeks.  Little by little, day by day, Little Wife got a little bit littler.

(Stay tuned for more Little Wife stories.  And if you are in danger, get help before you get as little as Little Wife.)

Natalie  Frame