by Laila Cole
Chapter 3 – Jennifer
My heart was pounding as I pulled into my driveway. It was 2AM, and I had stayed out far longer than I’d planned. In only a few short hours I’d have to get up for another brutal day at the office dealing with my boss, who was, by any rubric imaginable, an asshole to nth degree.
I opened the door quietly to find the living room lights on. Steven was not on the couch passed out, but was instead staring right at me, a 375 milliliter bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, half consumed. “Where in the hell were you?” he said, stumbling toward me. He looked me up and down. “You look like a fucking slut!”
I started to cry and began to hyperventilate. “I went out with Susan. Please don’t be angry.”
The stench of booze was thick on his breath. “Susan? Yea right, who did you see? Is there another man?”
“No. I would never cheat on you and you know that! It was just Susan and me. We talked, that’s it.”
He took a nip off the whiskey bottle. “I don’t believe you!”
My hands began to shake. “We’re married remember? You’re supposed to trust me.”
“Well I don’t!” He stumbled backward.
I looked into his eyes, searching for the man I once loved but he just wasn’t there. I shook my head in dismay at the realization he was a stranger. “Who are you?” I sobbed. “I want my husband back!”
“Well he isn’t coming back! He’s been gone for a long time, just like my partner.”
“You’re punishing yourself for no reason! It’s not your fault baby, please. Once you understand that all of this pain will end!”
“Don’t you dare tell me how to feel!”
“I’ll tell you whatever I want!” I could see in his eyes that he was self-conscious, knowing that the man he’d turned into was pushing me away, but at the same time he was so trapped in the vicious machinations of his mind that he couldn’t stop it.
“Look at you. You’re not my wife; you’re just some slut parading around town in that whore dress looking for my replacement. I can’t trust you as far as I can see you.” He sucked another bit of whiskey from his bottle.
I couldn’t breathe. I became dizzy. No man had ever spoken to me in such a way, and my husband or not, I wasn’t going to let him do it again. He crowded me against the wall. I looked to the door handle plotting my escape, it was still open.
“What the hell are you looking at?” he said.
He walked to the door and slammed it shut, locking the deadbolt. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“Please just stop! I’m not your enemy!”
“You’re a liar.” He pulled his spare hand up, and with the back of it struck me across the face so hard I stumbled, falling to my knees as the iron rich taste of blood filled my mouth. I looked up at him in fear. Steven was a monster and it was then that I saw that he was capable of anything.
He took another swig of his whiskey. “Get up!”
I began to shiver uncontrollably.
“Get up!” he screamed, reiterating his rage down toward me.
I did as he asked and he smacked me again, leaving a rapidly swelling bruise on my eye socket that obstructed my vision. I waited in silence, every muscle and bone frozen in place as pain radiated through my face. From some bastion of strength inside of me my mouth opened, and words I never thought possible escaped. “Steven, I want a divorce.”
At that moment, realizing the magnitude of his actions, and the loss of my undying love, something clicked in his mind, his facial expression changed from anger to sorrow in an instant. He began to sob and threw the bottle of whiskey into the kitchen where it shattered on the floor. He collapsed to the ground in front of me, his hands clasped together. “Please don’t leave me baby I am so sorry for what I’ve done. I’m a mess and I take it out on you, it’s not right. But if you divorce me you mine as well put a bullet in my head like Erick. You have to forgive me, you just have to!”
I looked at his groveling face. “No, Steven. I don’t. One day I will forgive you, but this isn’t right. This isn’t a relationship, and it sure as shit isn’t a marriage.”
“I can make it up to you. I can!”
He began to panic. He stood up and tried to stroke my face, as if he could make it better. I pulled away. “Don’t touch me!” I snapped.
“Stay there, please don’t go.” He stumbled toward the refrigerator trying to make me a cold compress out of a few ice cubes and a washcloth, but mostly just spilled stray ice cubes into the mix of glass and whiskey strewn about the tile floor.
Steven returned to me placing the cold compress on my face. “Stop!” I yelled. “Just leave me alone I need time to think.”
His sobbing intensified as he came face to face with the rapidly swelling bruises on my face. “Jesus Christ baby I’ll never hit you again. This, this has gone too far! I promise you baby, I will be the husband you remember. Please just give me another chance. I swear on my life I will change.”
“Forget it. I don’t want your help!” I took the compress he’d made me and held it to my face. He sulked away into our room, stumbling toward the hallway. I looked at my watch, it was 3:00 AM and the workday was closing fast. I was out of sick, vacation, and personal days already having to deal with Steven, and I was going to have to go in.
I cried some more, shocked at how I’d allowed myself to get into a situation like this. I’d watch my friends deal with abuse; I’d even counseled them through it. I recognized the cycle forming as he beat me down and pulled me back in. One thing was certain, counseling a friend through abuse was far simpler than enduring it. It was more horrible than I ever imagined possible, because there was a part of me that wanted to leave, and there was another part of me that, for some unknown reason, begged at me to stay. He could change.
Perhaps I was an optimist. But what if what he said was true? If he’d turned over a new leaf I could look past this experience to reignite the good in our relationship once more. Everybody fails, and everyone deserves a second chance. He’d acknowledged what he’d done, and if this was our rock bottom it could only get better from here. I hoped. But there was a newly minted pessimist that emerged from within that vehemently disagreed. He’s just going to do it again. You’ve seen it before, he’s no different! Don’t be a fool!
In a state of emotional disarray I texted Susan. “I need to talk.” I waited patiently, staring at my phone as the minutes went by, but she didn’t respond. I texted her again. “Please respond I need to talk to you.” Nada. I assumed she’d spent the night with the man at the bar, or like any other normal person at 4:00 AM, was fast asleep in her bed.
She was the only one I trusted. I thought about calling my Mom but didn’t want to alarm her, for now I had this under control but I needed to vent. I gave Susan a few more minutes and then I did the unthinkable, I pulled out Damien’s business card and stared at it.
When the urge to text him became too intense I caved. “Damien? It’s Jennifer.”
When five minutes went by and I didn’t receive a response I lost all hope. And then, when I’d got up to lay on the couch and try to catch some shuteye, my phone vibrated. There was a moment of excitement that rushed through me as I read his text. “That was fast. See, I knew you’d reach out.”
My blood boiled at his response. I didn’t want to deal with anymore of his arrogant cocky bullshit. I was in no mood for it. “If I knew you were going to be so arrogant I wouldn’t have!”
He backtracked quickly. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to be arrogant. I was just flirting. Is everything ok? You sound … tense.”
“No, everything is not ok. My husband just beat the shit out of me.” Just saying those words to another soul helped me feel better. Maybe Damien was right after all.
“I know we’ve barely met but god dammit that pisses me off! You don’t deserve that! Are you ok?”
“No one deserves it. Yes, I’m ok. For now.”
“Can you talk on the phone?”
At that moment I
knew his manly voice would sooth me, but I couldn’t risk it. “No, I’ll wake him.”
“Ok. Please stay calm and try not to panic. Do you have anywhere you can go, perhaps your friend’s house or a parent’s house?”
I began to sob again as I realized the gravity of the situation, and how, whether I liked it or not, if I left Steven my life was going to change drastically. “I don’t. I don’t want anyone to worry about me.”
“I understand. Have you called the police?”
“No. No police. I don’t want them involved. My husband is a DEA agent; they’ll take his side. I don’t know what to do!”
“I understand. Listen, this is a clear-cut case to me. You’re leaving him.”
I’d never texted so ferociously. “It’s not that easy! I can’t. I just can’t. He swore that he wouldn’t do it again.”
“That’s a god damned lie and I think you know it. This is what abusers do. Where are you? I am coming to get you. I will pay for a hotel, food, anything you need. Just let me know where you are and I will scoop you up before I fly out. I will even stay with you if you need me to. My sister had this happen to her, and it never got better, only worse.”
“No. I can’t, I just needed to vent to someone. I’m not looking for you to rescue me.”
If sighs were audible through text I would have heard one. “Well, okay then.”
As five minutes went by I realized that I had been rude, so I texted him once more. “I’m sorry for being so rude to you. I know you were trying to help. Thanks for talking to me and thanks for your generous offer. I’ll be in touch.”
He responded quickly, which left me uneasy knowing that he’d ignored me before. “Ok, then. Be safe. Take care of yourself.” And then there was nothing. Like that he disappeared. Not a text, not a call, or even a smiley to say goodbye.
