Bad Girl House 13

Each morning of the work week I got out of bed at the same time as John. I made him a lunch, and said goodbye for the day. The rest of my day was also fairly routine. Everything staying at home with my two year old daughter required. I read her stories, made and cleaned up her meals, and played with her toys. Some days we walked back and forth down to the laundry room that was down the hall. I made the chore easier by stacking the laundry baskets and soap in a stroller. Jessica wanting to be carried down the long hallway added the difficulty right back on. If the weather was nice we would walk to the nearby park, where the swings Jessica’s favorite thing to do. Part of my routine also included attempting to make sure that our evening remained uneventful. I tried to make sure that dinner would be ready on time. I straightened up the living room, tossing toys that weren’t being played with into Jessica’s bedroom. I played music that would put him in a good mood as he got home. I made sure that I greeted him as soon as he walked through the door. There was no specific predictor of how each night might play out. It was all a game of chance. Simply existing was risky.

One evening John came through he door quite happy. He was talkative, asking how my day was and kissed Jessica on the head as she played. After worrying all day, I felt like I could take a breath. Like I could let my guard down just a bit. He continued to talk about his day as he walked down the hall and began getting ready to get in the shower. Knowing that I was supposed to keep him company while he showered, I followed him down the hall.

“I heard something interesting on the radio on the way home tonight.” John told me something that a gynecologist said during an interview. It had something to do with pelvic exams and pap smears that contradicted something I had told him. I had told him that I thought those procedures were painful. The professional stated that they were not. Anything that John thought I was lying to him about became an issue that would forever come back to haunt me. John was no longer talking. He was now in a rage and was in my face. I felt my shoulders tense, and my guard was immediately back up.

My heart was beating so fast, and I was wringing my hands as they shook. John turned on the shower. Although a usual night found me sitting on the toilet while he showered, tonight was very different.

“You need to get away from me. I will finish this when I get out.”

I left the bathroom, stepping out just before hearing the door slam behind me. I could hardly think, but I knew I had to do something. I could not wait to find out what might happen when the shower turned off. I knew the possibilities all too well. I had been hit on the legs with a wooden spoon a determined amount of times. The count would begin again with any flinch or sound. I had been punched in the arm, left with a bruise practically impossible to hide. I was questioned about that bruise by my young step son. I had been locked out of the apartment, having to pretend that I was pretending to take a walk, returning to see if the door would open.

Then reality struck me like a bolt of lightning. John had threatened to punch me in the stomach early during this pregnancy, and I could not put that past what he was capable of still. This baby’s safety become my only thought. As if he could read my mind, the bathroom door opened and I heard John yell, “You better not go anywhere.”

As soon as the door closed sheer panic came over me. Him telling me to stay was a clear sign to go. I had to leave, and I needed to leave by myself. I didn’t have time to get things together in order to take my daughter with me. Leaving her there might keep hime from immediately coming after me when he realized I was gone. I quickly peaked in her room where she was playing quietly, totally unknowing of what was going on. I grabbed my purse and went out the door. Even though it was surely covered by the sound of the running water, I was terrified that John may have heard me leave and was going to be right behind me. Walking to the center of the hallway and then waiting for the elevator could be disastrous. Our apartment was right next to the stairwell leading to an exit. I flew down the stairs, still not sure where I was going to go when I got out of the building. Several blocks away was a large grocery store and a few drug stores that I often walked to. Only now in hindsight do I realize that my first choice should have been the hospital directly across the street. The same hospital that this new baby was to be born in just a few short months.

In the twilight street lights were beginning to come on. I knew that it was possible for John to see the sidewalk I was running on from our apartment directly above. Each street light felt more like a spot light screaming, “There she is!” Full of fear, I tried not to slow down. I managed to jog and walk at a pretty good clip until I felt my stomach start to cramp. I kept going with my hands supporting the precious cargo in my belly. I decided that the best thing to do was to get to a pay phone and call my mother. Logistically, she was a good forty-five minutes away, but she was the only person I had to call for help. There was a pay phone in the drug store parking lot. When my mom answered, I told her where I was and that I needed her to come pick me up. I would wait for her in the grocery store across the street. I felt that it was large enough not to be seen if John came searching for me.

Sweaty and out of breath, I roamed around the store in a state of shear paranoia. I had no way of knowing exactly when my mom was arriving, so I eventually had to go to the front of the store to start watching for her. I was terrified that John would be there as I scanned the parking lot. I could only imagine what he would do if he did find me. He wouldn’t have cared about the witnesses in the store. I finally saw I mom pull into a parking place. Walking out of the store, being out in the open, felt like taking my life into my hands. I had to force myself to hurry to her car. Closing myself inside, a relief waved over me. I told my mom that John and I had had an argument, and I left it at that. I didn’t mention the abuse that had been going on for years now. She realized that I left without any clothes, and asked if I wanted to go back into the store for underwear and socks. I wanted to leave immediately, so I said that I would worry about it in the morning. The drive back was fairly quiet, still not discussing what went on that made me run from my apartment. When we got back to the house I cleaned up and put on a pair of pajamas that my mom let me borrow.

Even the next morning my mom didn’t ask me about what happened. Why didn’t she ask about the fight? If I was safe? Why I needed to leave? If she had tried to ask, I may have just shut her out, telling her that I didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe she already assumed what was happening, because she had already seen John’s temper. She may have been remembering John assaulting my dad, but was she putting together what was now happening to me?

John called the house the following morning. He apologized for his behavior, telling me that he had overreacted. He said that everything was going to be fine, and that made him realize that he needed to change. I heard him say that he wasn’t upset with me anymore. He was going to drive down o my mom’s house in the morning. I was to be ready when I got there, and to be waiting on the front porch. I was giving in to fear and intimidation, as much as accepting his apology. I let my mom know that I was going to go home when John get there. This is when she asked me if I was felt that I should leave with him. This was the question that i was wrestling with in my own mind, but I assured her that I would be fine. She assumed that I was still the strong girl hat I used to be. That I just needed a little break from John to clear my head and to let him calm down. Unfortunately, that girl was in my past.

I went outside when I saw John pull into the driveway. I slowly followed the concrete path from the front door to the edge of the yard. He got out of the car to open my door for me. This chivalrous display only lasted until he walked back around the car, sat down, and slammed his door. I only had these few seconds to believe that he may have actually changed and to say hello to my daughter. “I told you to be ready and waiting outside.” I explained that it was hot outside, and that I didn’t wait to stand out there in the heat with my belly. John immediately blamed me for what had happened. When he for out of the shower and realized that I wasn’t there, he left the apartment to drive around looking for me. He left without Jessica, leaving her alone for half an hour. This was also somehow my fault. It’s possible that his rage kept him from even thinking that she might still be there. His only thought was tracking down the missing wife that may have escaped his control. Still sitting in the driveway, he continued scolding me like I was a child. I was old to never to anything like that again. I was honestly confused by his behavior after he had apologized to me on the phone only an hour earlier. My heart was racing and my hands were shaking. Just as they had been the evening before. Reality was starting me directly in the face. The only thing that had changed was that I had tried to run away from John. That I may have told my mom that he was abusing me. He would now have to tighten his grip so that I wouldn’t risk doing it again.