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.....
