The Catt Box

'The Secret Story'

Introduction

This is a true story...this is my story. There are those who would say that it is not...and they are the family of my 'ex'...according to them, it's all my fault...I did it all...I was the reason things didn't work out...if I hadn't entered his life, he wouldn't have been this way, etc. It goes under the carpet and goes away. But, eventually, that lump of dirt gets too big to ignore and you trip over it. Of course, no one in their family does anything wrong, not them...it always has to be someone else at fault. 

I will refer to my ex as Brute....

I was raised in a violent, abusive household through-out my childhood. I was conditioned for a tumultuous relationship. I had a lot of anger in me...a quick temper...a lot of pain. It would surface in this relationship with Brute. 

I do not want to give the impression that I was constantly beat by this man...I wasn't. The only time he ever came in the door and 'just beat me' was the last night I was ever with him. This was totally out of the blue. But all the other times, though the injuries were bad, our fights escalated into the violence....sometimes me...often times him. I fought back, and at times I actually threw the first punch...knowing what was going to happen to me, but didn't care. I was also guilty of violence...I KNEW how to live THAT life-style.

I was cheated on, he dealt drugs, ran the bars, was a habitual liar, chased skirts, had sex with my friends, he wouldn't work, couldn't keep a job....didn't like taking orders from anyone. We lived in twelve places in the five years we were together, being evicted from several places, and he didn't have a driver's license during most of our time together. There were times I had to work as a diner cook, while pregnant, because he wouldn't work. He was also almost always in trouble with the law, in one way or another. But he didn't get too much jail time...I guess hauling his pregnant girlfriend into court,  who happened to be a double amputee , moved the judge to take pity on us.

And you know what's really ironic....just when Brute and I were starting our relationship, we went to some family function. And while there, I saw a girl I went to school with...she was Brute's cousin...and she was one of those who always looked down her nose at me all through school. Well, later on, Brute admitted to me that on that night, she pulled him aside and told him not to get involved with 'me'....can you believe it? 

This is how proud and haughty this family is.....this S.O.B. could be this much of a jerk and they still found a way to see me as being 'the bad one'. To this day I can't stand her....and I see that she is divorced....hmmmmm...bet I know exactly who is to blame in that flawed marriage....it couldn't possibly be 'her' fault. These people are above reproach. Why, some of them can actually break up a marriage and marry the guy, and still walk away smelling like a rose and pointing their finger at someone else, deeming themselves righteous and proper.

But this story isn't going to give a run down of our entire relationship, only the night I left him...the night I knew that it was 'do or die'. And this isn't the only time I ever had to hide from him...it was just my last.

You never know how you're going to handle a situation until you're in it. I have often heard people express what they would and would not tolerate in a relationship. If you asked me at any time before I met Brute if I thought I was going to end up in a relationship like this I would have said that it was impossible. 

It happened.

 

November 19, 1981

 

On that day in November it rained...it was cold, and we lived up north. We had made plans for the evening with some friends. My son was with Brute's parents and my daughter was with my parents. Brute's work-mate, during one of the rare times he actually had a job, and his wife and another couple were going to go with us at a local club. Brute had to go make a quick 'drug run'....trying to get something before the night set in. He left me there at the house and the friends came to meet us and ride together. We grew tired of waiting for Brute and decided to leave a note and go on without him...he could meet us there. I was very disappointed that he hadn't come back yet. This was a rare opportunity for us to get out....this was OUR night and I wanted to have a good time. He was ALWAYS going out and leaving me home.

I was not real big on drinking alcoholic beverages at this stage of my life. I was 26 years old. I didn't like beer or wine and mixed drinks and the only drink I did like was Jack Daniels, straight. I didn't drink that often, but when I did, that was it. And I didn't eat supper that night..... Big mistake. I didn't know it would have that big of an impact on me. I told you I wasn't that used to drinking. I hadn't planned on having but a few. My daughter was just about five months old and I had recently weaned her from breast feeding. I didn't drink while pregnant or nursing....so, I was very 'green' with drinking that night.

We got to the club late,....we had spent a lot of time waiting at the house for Brute. We had a table and all five of us sat and waited, and waited, and waited on Brute. In the meantime, we had our drinks, and I don't know how many I had, it didn't take many, but I was beginning to feel 'sick'....and dizzy.....and very light-headed. It was close to 1:00 AM and  the girls thought it would be a good idea to take me on home. I was in no shape to be out any more. We left word with the bartender, in case Brute made his anticipated appearance. He never did. 

The group took me home after a short drive with the windows down to try to get me to feel better. That wasn't going to happen anytime soon. I was such a light-weight with alcohol. At this point my memory was getting pretty good. I knew and understood all that was going on, but I just felt so sick. The guys stayed in the car.

The two girls led me into the farm house that Brute and I lived in...the front room was actually an enclosed front porch and we used it as a sort of day room. I had an old studio couch in the room, where I used to spend hours waiting and looking out of the windows...playing Solitaire , and waiting for Brute to come home. My life with him was always waiting for him to come home.

The girls walked with me to the bathroom and back onto the front room. I decided that since the bathroom was downstairs and the bedroom was upstairs, and I was still sick, I should lay down in that room and sleep it off. They made sure I would be alright and they went back out into their cars, met their husbands, and drove off.....I went to sleep..... 

 

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