I held my breath for what seemed an
eternity before telling him, “The doctor’s office called. The test was
positive. I’m pregnant.” He turned around in the doorway and grabbed the top of
the frame with both hands. It was an odd stance in an odd moment that felt
overly suspended in time. When he finally turned around he was actually smiling
and he exclaimed, “I’m going to be a father – that’s fantastic! I am SO happy.”
I was stunned at his words but convinced myself they were genuine. When I began
to add my own he turned on his heel and was gone. That dynamic had become
familiar over the past year along with the cycle of breaking up and getting
back together. What is crystal clear now was glossed over by the unrealistic
romantic notions of the 20 year old woman sitting on the edge of the bed that
day.
We were raising two sons in an
atmosphere charged with animosity and just plain distrust. The first affair
happened in the early days and I never stopped comparing myself to the sexy
blonde who flew off of my front porch and into her Camaro at my unexpected
arrival. I was supposed to be at work but the daycare had called when the baby
developed a fever. Her car hindered my entry into my own driveway but not my
view of them kissing goodbye on the front porch. He was wearing a pair of white
tennis shorts and nothing else. After her swift departure, he raced over to my
car, jerked open the door and leaned in close to my face. His animated whisper
was a threatening reassurance that “it wasn’t what I thought." He had
taught me long ago not to question him.Being grown up wasn’t nearly the carefree, independent place I had always imagined as a child. With my high school graduation barely two years behind me, I was fully immersed in a troubled marriage and the demands of a baby with his never-ending needs. That was a far cry from the lifelong vision of a career-oriented gal with the world at her feet. Leaving college after my first year due to my parents’ hardships had been a difficult blow. I was resolved to return again someday but had been swiftly sidetracked by a man who set out to own me. I was truly one of the innocents and thought there was good in everyone. I learned otherwise.
Charming. Maybe as in Prince
Charming? I used to believe that was a wonderful quality to possess. In
retrospect, I understand that charm beguiles as a disguise in front of one who
must enchant you lest you run screaming from their true nature. I would have
run fast and far. I would have run the instant I opened the door with the
girlish excitement of our date night looming ahead when his thumb brashly
rubbed the bright, red lipstick from my lips and across my face. The
instantaneous shock of such an outlandish action didn’t stop me from trying to
shut the door on the entire scene. His foot was swift. It was one of many such
scenes. The charm could render the bruises meaningless and convince me it would
never happen again.
But it was the irreverence of his
comment after the movie that finally snapped me out of the fog that had blocked
my view of reality for such a long, long time. And I made no haste in changing
my life. A decision accompanied by years of court battles and sheer hell.
Divorcing a violent man is not an easy option. But it is a decision I don’t
regret though it cost me in ways I could never have imagined. It was my
ultimate salvation. Finally relieved of my innocence and ability to be charmed,
I never looked back. The memory of him is riddled with broken trust…broken
vows…broken bones. He battled valiantly for years to win his ultimate trophy. I
would not be conquered for my spirit
is not broken. And that thing that is elusive for him has finally settled all
around me – I am content.
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