Eric, on the other hand, only wanted his mother to be happy. So whatever was okay with her, was okay with him. He was not the outspoken type like his brother. Instead, he kept his emotions bottled up inside so that it was hard, almost impossible, to understand what was actually going on inside his head. By this time, he was quite involved with Gary’s sister, Sandy.
Even though Clarye didn’t like the fact that her son was dating her sister-in-law, it was really nothing that she could do about it. Eric had fallen madly in love with Sandy and against Clarye’s wishes, he started spending a lot of time at Gary’s parents’ house with Sandy.
One week into their marriage, Clarye and Gary had their first argument. Even now, Clarye can’t remember how it started or even what it was all about. She only remembered calling Gary, a young punk. Before she could complete her attack on his manhood, the piercing sting of his fist landed hard across the soft, brown skin of her face. Blood started pouring out all over her black, “Be a Real Woman T-shirt.” She tasted its saltiness as it poured into the open cavern of her mouth. Clarye was standing, facing the mirror in their bedroom. When she saw the blood pouring down her cheek, she became hysterical.
Gary grabbed her instantly, pleading her forgiveness. He had reacted out of anger when he heard her degrading words, he told her. She had provoked him into hurting her this way.
”Clarye, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he pleaded with her. Come on; let me take you to the doctor. Come on, Clarye. Baby, it will never happen again. I don’t know what came over me. Please, baby, please forgive me. I love you so much. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Clarye looked at his young, hurt face. She saw the tears as they flowed from his dark brown eyes and a wave of pity rushed over her. After all, she had been the one to attack his manhood. She should have known better. How could she call him a young punk and not expect him to retaliate in such a manner? After all, he was probably already feeling rather insecure since he was so much younger than she was.
“Yes,” she told herself. She definitely pushed Gary to do this to her. She told him, “No, sweetheart, there’s no need for me to go to the doctor. Just get me some cold towels to stop the bleeding. I need to clean this mess up before the boys come in here. Hurry, Gary.”
They both moved quickly, cleaning up the blood. He put ice packs on Clarye’s face to stop the bleeding and reduce the swelling. Once they stopped the bleeding, Clarye had Gary to go and tell the boys they were going to spend some time alone. They locked their bedroom door and did not come out until the next morning, after Eric and Jeremy were gone to school. Once morning came, Clarye said as she looked in the mirror, “The gash doesn’t look so bad. He didn’t mean it. He was just angry and hurt,” she convinced herself. “It’ll never happen again.”
Gary tenderly cleaned the gash once again when they woke up, being careful to treat Clarye with extra tenderness while he continued to plead, “Honey, I’m so sorry. How could I do this to the one person I love more than anything in the world?” He brought her close to him, while lifting her black, cotton, sleep shirt gently over her head. He planted light kisses all over her face while his hands touched her in just the right places at just the right time. Clarye was oblivious to the pain she had accepted from his fist the night before. She was taken away by his sincerity and most of all by his manhood as he drove her to satisfying heights of pleasure with his lovemaking. But this was only the beginning of the most violent relationship Clarye had ever been involved in.
Gary’s physical and verbal abuse began to escalate as their marriage continued. Several months into their marriage, Clarye knew that she had indeed once again made a tragic mistake. Why couldn’t she depend on God in this area in her life? She could call on Him for everything else. She had gone before God, unfailingly, throughout her life, time and time again, except when it came to relationships. Why was she so blind to God’s guidance and direction in this area?
In spite of the fact that she knew she had once again failed, she stayed in the marriage allowing herself to be subjected to the heavy blows that Gary laid on her. Gary was rather conniving, shrewd and calculating in his abuse. He would wait patiently until Eric and Jeremy were off to school, or gone to visit friends, before he began his physical and verbal attacks on Clarye.
Gary, just like the other ones, did not maintain his job for any real length of time at the rental company. He was too consumed with rage and anger toward Clarye. Once again, Clarye fell into a deep depression, unable to continue to accept the fists that landed across her body over and over again, she blocked them out each time.
Gary began to have women call him at all times of the day or night. He would stay away from home two or three nights a week. It really didn’t matter to Gary. Yet, Clarye continued to stay in the marriage. A year passed. Clarye’s body was breaking down, her mind was falling apart as the abuse began to take a heavy, devastating toll on her physically and mentally.
The phone call came one day while Gary was away on one of his “mini excursions.” The woman on the other end was polite, when she asked for Clarye by name. Clarye began to escape into her shell when she heard the woman tell her that Gary had gotten her fourteen year old daughter pregnant. Clarye could not believe what her ears were hearing. fourteen years old. A mere child. She knew Gary was a lowlife, a scumbag, but even she had no idea he would stoop to such a low level as this. She was afraid to tell anyone about the conversation with this child’s mother. She retreated into a shell that allowed her to feel nothingness. Pain could not even visit her. She would not acknowledge its entrance into her life.
When Gary returned home after being gone for two days, she confronted him about the accusations of the girl’s mother. Gary immediately flew into a wild fit of rage. All Clarye could see was the long, steel crutch she used for support, coming down hard across her back. The steel was cold to her as he pounded her body over and over again. With each blow, he was mouthing obscenities. Soon Clarye could not feel the heavy weight of the crutch as it bruised and marked up her brown, copper skin. She could only feel hate and disgust for this man. She envisioned him dead. She longed for him to disappear. With each blow of the crutch, her heart, her emotions became colder and colder until she felt she was beyond breaking.
After all, this was her fault. Everything was her fault. She deserved this abuse. She deserved this unhappiness. Had she not been warned about Gary before marrying him? Her family had tried to tell her. Ada had tried to talk her out of making such a tragic mistake. So believed that she deserved every horrible thing she had allowed to come into her life.
Clarye could not cry out in pain for there was no pain. She could not hear the obscenities any longer. All she could hear were the words of a minister she had spoken to several weeks before about Gary and his abuse towards her.
“Clarye,” the minister said to her in a stern rock hard and unsympathetic voice, “God hates divorce. You made a tragic mistake when you married a man who was unsaved. The two of you are unequally yoked. You know enough about the Bible, young lady. Does it not say that we, as children of God, should not be yoked with unbelievers? But you disobeyed God, my child. Now you have to suffer the consequences of your sins, Clarye. You’re in this marriage until death do you part, for better or for worse. Be careful, Clarye for your sins will find you out. Only I think it’s too late for you. Your sins have already found you.”
Clarye recalled the minister’s words and believed even stronger that all of this mess was of her own making and her own doing. She indeed had made this bed, now she was the one who had to sleep in it. It would take something even more despicable before Clarye would come to realize that what the minister told her was not exactly true.
“There’s no need for me to call on God now,” Clarye told herself. “I didn’t call on him when I got into this mess. I know what His Word says and I have been disobedient. All I can ask now, Lord, is that you give me the strength to hold out, to make it through this marriage. I must believe t
hat Gary will change one day, Lord. Won’t he?” So Clarye remained in the marriage to Gary.
The courts demanded a blood test for the baby that was born to the young girl. It showed that the chance of Gary being the baby’s father was 99.9%. Even after this, Clarye stayed in the marriage, believing she had to lie in the bed she had made. The girl’s mother decided not to press statutory rape charges against Gary. She demanded he pay child support instead. But that was nothing for Gary. He refused to keep a steady job. They lived off Clarye’s meager disability check and the money she made babysitting other people’s children from time to time. Clarye made excuse after excuse to her family and the few friends she still had about the black and blue marks that showed up on her body and face from time to time. Her excuse would be that she had fallen, or tripped on something or that one of the babies she kept had playfully hit her with one of their toys.
She continued her masquerade and Gary continued his. He still wore that gold toothed smile that had drawn Clarye to him in the first place. He wore it well for the outside world. He appeared affectionate and loving when they were around family or out in public.
The final straw began one spring day when the boys were away at school. Clarye was babysitting that day and was in a rather good mood. Gary came in from who knows where and Clarye made the tragic mistake of asking him to help her get some clothes off the line. Her back had been giving her problems more and more and her legs were in constant pain. She refused to accept the fact that it was because of Gary’s beatings.
“Gary, will you get those clothes off the line for me? I’m really tired and my back and legs are bothering me a little. I guess it’s because I’ve been up and down with these babies today. The basket is in the kitchen by the door,” she said.
Gary angrily raced into the den where Clarye and the babies were sitting down watching Sesame Street. He began to mouth his obscenities at her.
“What are you talking about. You don’t tell me to get some damn clothes off the line, you little no good, lazy, tramp. You’re nothing but a slut and a whore,” he yelled and screamed. “You sit here on your ugly butt all day and then think that I’m supposed to go out and get some clothes off the line. You’re crazy. Get your crippled butt up and do it yourself.”
Clarye held back her tears. How could someone be so cruel toward another human being?
Gary stormed out the front door. Clarye tried to soothe the cries of the frightened babies. She hoped that Gary would just leave and not come back, ever. Suddenly she heard the front door being yanked open. She saw the long, wooden branch in Gary’s hand. She remembered that it had fallen off the huge oak tree in the front yard a few nights ago, during a thunderstorm. What was Gary doing with it in the house? Before she could completely get up to see what was going on, she saw the branch come down across her face. It struck her hard. The blows came down across her back, across her legs, again and again, over and over. Clarye crouched to the floor, but she never screamed. She didn’t want the babies to become anymore frightened than they already were. She fought hard to pull herself up, barely able to drag herself out of sight of the babies.
Gary continued screaming, yelling at her, and telling her how much he hated her. He grabbed her by her thick, long hair and pulled her into their bedroom. She saw him when he reached inside his pocket and pulled out something long and white. She could see that it was a piece of rope. He twisted her arms hard behind her back and yanked her already weak, scrawny legs behind her as well. He tied her hands and feet together, bending them back to meet each other until she thought he would break every part of her body. He pulled out what appeared to be some type of sewing needle from his pants pocket along with some ink and thread.
“What was he going to do?” Clarye was frightened. She was worried about the babies. She could hear them in the other room crying. Gary bolted out as if reading her mind and yelled at the babies to shut up. He returned to their bedroom, slamming the door shut, leaving the babies in the den alone and crying.
Clarye was in the floor struggling with all of her might to break free from the ropes. But she could not. Gary knew what he was doing. He began to stick her with the needle all over her arm. Tiny pricks of pain pierced her arms. She could see trickles of blood coming down. Each time she tried to let out a scream, Gary’s backhand would cross her lips as he commanded her to shut up. The pricks of the needle came harder and harder. After what seemed like hours, Gary finally stopped, surveying his damage with a weird smile of joy and happiness. He dragged Clarye into the tiny bedroom closet. Clarye was still bound and her legs and arms were numb from the ropes.
When he got her into the closet, he asked her with a wicked voice, “Don’t you want to be like Michael Jackson, Clarye? You do like old pretty boy Michael don’t you, Clarye? Why, he’s a superstar. Let’s see if you can be like Mike.”
Clarye was terrified. “Don’t you want to be like Michael, just a little?” he asked her again laughing wickedly, as he pulled a disposable green cigarette lighter out of his pocket. He began to turn it on and off, on and off as he brought it closer and closer to her face. He pulled at her hair, allowing the flickering flame to barely miss the thick locks that hung across her shoulders.
Clarye barely mouthed a word during all this time. One thing she had learned was that during Gary’s fits of rage, if she would only be quiet, and say as little as possible, that it would soon be over. There was a time she used to scream and yell back at him, fight him back even. But that only added fire to an already out of control inferno. She saw the flickering flames of the cigarette lighter as it danced across the ends of her hair. She smelled the scorched locks of her hair as they fought against the heat of the flame.
Clarye was in total fear. She prayed within to God, “Father, help me to escape from this demon, this maniac, Father please. Help me to come out of this alive. Protect the little babies that parents have entrusted into my care, dear Lord. Forgive me for messing up big time again.”
Gary suddenly let out a loud, evil shriek of laughter, jerking her gold necklace from around her neck and yanking her, hard, from the cramped quarters of the closet. He roughly dragged her out only enough where he could untie her. Clarye glanced up at the clock that sat on the edge of the old brown, chewed up dresser in the bedroom. The clock said 2:00 p.m. Eric and Jeremy would be home any minute now. God had heard Clarye’s cry because Gary stopped beating her. He untied her and proceeded to drag her back down into the den where the babies were. She comforted them, getting them quieted down. Gary picked up his car keys, jumped in the car, and sped back out of the driveway.
“Thank you, Lord,” whispered Clarye. “Thank you once again.” After she calmed the children down, she went and cleaned up her battered body so the boys wouldn’t know what had happened. She picked up the broken pieces of wood and by the time the boys made it home, Clarye had the babies calmed down, the house looking normal and herself looking like she was the happiest little wife in town.
The next morning, Clarye was barely able to move. She was covered in bruises all over her body. When she looked in the mirror, she saw something else. She looked around for Gary but he was nowhere to be found. She called out to Eric and Jeremy. No answer. “They must have already left for school,” she whispered. That brought a sense of relief to Clarye. She felt soreness in her right arm and the curiosity rose within her. She looked closer at her swollen arm and barely etched out the words that Gary had put on her. It was one of those homemade tattoos like the ones he had carved all over his body. In crooked, purple, blotched letters Clarye saw, the words “Gary and Clarye.” A crooked heart surrounded the words. Clarye literally became sick to her stomach. She stumbled to the bathroom and threw up. The anger, the hurt, the humiliation of her life came pouring out of her soul.
Clarye called up her sister, Vita, and told her everything that had happened. As usual, Vita gave Clarye her support and a listening ear. She hurried over to see what she could do to talk some sense into her baby sister.
“Clarye,” Vita said, hurting for her sister. “You have to get out of this mess. This cycle of violence has got to end.”
“Don’t you realize that you’re going to wind up dead, girl? What is it going to take to wake you up?” She cried.
Clarye knew that Vita was indeed right. She had to escape this prison of violence and abuse. She had to regain her life. If not for herself, then for her sons. “What kind of example was she setting? Would Jeremy and Eric one day too become like Gary?”
She told Vita with a new sense of determination in her spirit, “You’re right, Vita. I’m going to do it. I’m going to make that step today. I can’t put if off any longer. I want to be here for my sons. I want to see them become young, successful men. I want to see them with families of their own. I won’t ever be able to do that if I stay here with this evil, psychotic monster.”
Since the lawyer who handled her last two divorces was no longer living in the city, she and Vita started thumbing through the yellow pages, searching for attorneys. After calling up three or four of them, Clarye finally talked with an attorney, Lawrence Romans. Mr. Romans told her to come in the next afternoon around 1:00 p.m.
I’ll come by and pick you up, Clarye,” said Vita. If Gary asks, just tell him that I need you to help me wrap some of my gift baskets. Tell him anything, just find a way to get out of that house tomorrow,” Vita said.
Clarye was still worried about how she was going to find a way from Gary. He hated her to be with her family or friends, no matter what the reason. Clarye didn’t know at the time, but God had already intervened. Gary was not going to come home for the next several days.
Vita stayed with her sister the remainder of the afternoon. After Eric and Jeremy came in from school, she left. They saw the blood caked marks and the tattoo on Clarye’s swollen arm.
Always, Now and Forever Love Hurts Page 8
