PART II
SING. SING.
A PRELUDE¹ TO SING SING
Nearing the edge
Oblivious² I almost
Fell right over
A part of me
Will never be quite able
To feel stable
—“Close My Eyes”
Even now it’s hard to explain, to put into words how I existed in my relationship withTommy Mottola. It’s not that there are no words, it’s just that they still get stuck movingup from my gut³, or they disappear into the thickness of my anxiety. Tommy’s energy wasintense, more than overbearing; for me, it was an entire atmosphere. Even before he wouldenter the room I could sense the air change and my breath grow short. He rolled over melike a fog. His presence felt dense⁴ and oppressive. He was like humidity—inescapable.
Never when I was with him did I feel I could breathe easy and fully⁵ as myself. Hispower was pervasive⁶, and with it came an unspeakable unease. In the beginning of ourtime together I was walking on eggshells. Then it became a bed of nails, and then aminefield. I never knew when or what would make him blow, and the anxiety wasrelentless. In the eight years we were together I can’t recall ten minutes with him when Ifelt I could be comfortable—when I could simply be at all. I felt his grip was steadilychoking me off from my essence. I was disappearing in installments⁷.
It felt like he was cutting off my circulation, keeping me from friends and what little“family” I had. I couldn’t talk to anyone that wasn’t under Tommy’s control. I couldn’t goout or do anything with anybody. I couldn’t move freely in my own house.
Many nights I would lie on my side of our massive bed, under which I would keep mypurse filled with essentials just in case I had to make a quick escape—my “to go” bag. Ihad to wait for him to fall asleep. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I would gradually inchmy way to the edge of the bed and

分享到：