Love’s Suicide(35)
Author: Jennifer Foor

When I could do nothing but cry, he got mad at himself. “God damn it!” He leaned down and kissed me where he just injured my face. “I can’t stand this, Katy. It’s makin’ me do things I swore I’d never do. I don’t want to be like him.”

He climbed off of me and walked into the bathroom. I sat there, waiting for him to come back and hurt me again. “Like who?” I whispered.

“Like my father. He beat my mother, and I swore I’d never let myself get that angry.” He came up to the bed and started to cry. I didn’t know what to do. One minute we were naked and having a good time and then he was losing his temper on me.

While still sobbing, I pulled him against my body and listened to him crying like a baby. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean it. It just hurts so much knowin’ you don’t love me. I don’t know what else to do.”

I cried with him, feeling horrible that I’d been unable to move on. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you. I do love you, Bobby. I do.”

He looked up at me and finally stopped sniffling. “Really? Even after I hurt you?”

I nodded, knowing I was lying, just to make amends. “Really.”

He kissed me hard, as if makeup sex was going to help me forget what he’d done. I spent the next twenty minutes holding in my emotions, while he hovered over me, pumping me with all of his pent up anger. It was then that I knew I had to change or things were going to gradually get worse.

Since that day he hadn’t laid a hand on me, but I’d done everything in my power to not piss him off.

When I told Sarah what happened in confidence, she discussed it with Dave. It had gotten back to Bobby, and after being mad at me for telling, he vowed to never do it again. We’d even gone to the pastor, Sarah’s father, and had him counsel us on our issues.

I would have liked to think that things would get better, but day by day I could see him changing. He no longer wanted to be home with me and Brooklyn. On most nights he worked late at the shop, claiming we needed the money. I didn’t mind being alone, spending quality time with my little girl. Still, when I gazed into her crystal blue eyes, it made me think of her father.

Looking back now, I wondered if it bothered Bobby that she resembled her father. I’d never said it out loud, but the child looked nothing like me, so it was only natural to assume she favored him.

Her smiles were contagious and when she first called me Mama, I thought I was going to melt. Bobby had been the only dad she’d known. I’d given her Brooks’ last name, and wondered if that was the right move.

As much as Bobby loved her, I didn’t see myself staying with him forever. The longer I stayed, the worse it was going to be.

After his newest temper tantrum, I’d about had it. I wanted out and I knew I needed to do it while Brooklyn was still too young to understand.

On the outside, Bobby was the perfect man. Behind closed doors, he had become hateful and nothing I ever did was good enough.

A good example was dinner. I saw meat in the refrigerator and used it to cook us a meal. I didn’t see any harm in doing it. We had to eat, and I knew how much he liked to eat meatloaf sandwiches for leftovers. Besides the meat, I’d prepared homemade mashed potatoes and his favorite garlic green beans.

I thought I was doing a good thing and instead had been yelled at for it, as if we weren’t in an equal partnership at all.

Bobby made the rules and decisions and my opinions were obsolete. He’d stopped complimenting me the day he’d gotten me into bed, and since then, his Jekyll and Hyde actions had showed me that the man I married wasn’t the one I’d come to know. He had secrets and with them came a side of him that scared me.

Bobby came walking in the kitchen, lifting his nose up in the air. “Here’s your damn milk.”

He sat it on the counter and walked into the freshly vacuumed living room with dirty, grease covered boots. “Take your shoes off next time,” I said as I bent over to check on the meatloaf.

I felt his presence behind me and stood up abruptly, just in time for the back of his hand to come in contact with the side of my face. I fell to the floor, leaving the oven door open as I began quickly backing away from him. “You don’t tell me how to live in my own house.”

I put my hands up blocking him from another blow to my face. “Please, don’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I was pleading like my life depended on it.

His eyes widened and, after a stare-down, finally he walked out of the room.

At that same time I heard Brooklyn crying. I rushed to her side, finding her unscathed and wet in her crib. I held her tight against my bosom. “It’s going to be okay. Mama was just scared. Shh, you’re okay.” Inside I was crying, because at that moment I knew his hitting me wasn’t a one-time thing. I’d read enough on abuse to know that once it starts happening, it would only get worse.

I had to get out, the sooner the better for the sake of my daughter’s and my own well-being. I wasn’t living in a loveless marriage and subjecting my child to such horrible things. She deserved better.

With my trust fund becoming available within weeks, I knew I’d have a way to leave, even if I had to buy my freedom.

Chapter 20

September 2012

“Happy Birthday, sweet girl. I can’t believe you’re one today.” She smiled and ran away from me with her party dress only half on.

Her celebration was in an hour and I still had to decorate her little cake.

I heard the door opening and turned to see Bobby standing in the doorway. Brooklyn, who I’d gotten used to calling B, had run up to him. “Dada, up.”

He picked her up and kissed her on the cheek.

I put the other strap to her dress on her arm, but avoided eye contact with him.

We’d been separated since June, a day after I gotten my inheritance. I took B and moved us back into the trailer while looking for a piece of property to build on. Bobby showed up that night beating on the door until Dave came and made him leave.

For a while I was scared he was going to break in and hurt me. His sweet-talking wasn’t going to get me in his good graces and he knew it.

The problem was that he loved B. She was his world and I couldn’t keep him from seeing her, even if I was mad at him. I knew he’d never hurt her, since his anger had always only been geared toward me.

She grabbed his face and kissed him again. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

He looked at me and smiled. “Is there anything I can help with?”