Sunday, January 22nd, 1989
I am addicted to the fajitas at Spoon’s restaurant. We finally get a booth and I can hardly wait to place my order. When I see her. A beautiful thin woman about 8 months pregnant carrying a car seat while her husband puts their other child in the high chair placed at the end of the table. I admire how she is moving, how nice she is dressed and hope that when I am showing like that I will be even half that beautiful. “She is beautiful” I blurt out from under my breath.
JP is looking around “Who?” he finally asks me, not seeing the woman that is directly in front of us.
I point to the woman with the child.
“She’s pregnant!” He exclaims.
“I know, she’s beautiful!” I am still in awe of how well put together she looks.
“Pregnant woman are fat and ugly!” he barks out.
I am silenced.
I am 4 months pregnant sitting across from the man that is supposed to adore me and love me and build me up and in 6 short words he has taken everything that is in my body and made me feel unloved, ugly, dirty, wrong, bad, fat, disgusting and hated. My body shrinks into the booth as I try to hide the fact that I am pregnant. I am fat and ugly!
Friday, March 31st, 1989
It’s hard to deal with the realization of how your life has turned out. Everything I thought would make it better just makes it worse. I wonder, sometimes, why things are turning out the way they do. I love my husband, I would be lost without him. I miss the way he used to hold me when we first met. The way we would watch TV together and not just racing. I miss the closeness we once had. It’s been so long ago that I wonder if it was really real or just fake. Am I wanting something back that I never really had? I remember him holding me don’t I? I’m wondering what really makes sense.
I’m thinking drugs are our major problem. If JP loved me and the baby enough I don’t think he would do drugs like he does.
Our biggest problems:
1. Money - He might make more then me but he spends a ton more. I wish he would sit down and pay the bills once in a while. See where all the money goes.
2. Drugs - It’s tearing us apart worse then money. I just want to have 1-2 days a month where drugs are not used.
3. Communication - Could be resolved with the end of #2. I feel our communications skills have decreased considerably in the past 2 years. It has dwindled to nothing, hurting me and possibly hurting JP. It has come to the point where we can’t talk without fighting. Him raising his voice or becoming defensive and me just snapping back.
4. Sneaking around - Where are you lately? It’s not like I follow him but man I would really like to know where he is. He doesn’t come home after work till well after bed time. I rarely see him anymore. I try not to stay at home anymore worrying. I keep myself busy and go to friends houses more. I think I am getting better about this, but then again, I don’t live with me.
5. Love.
I’m so lost.
My body is changing, every day is different. I miss the feeling I used to get when I would be driving around and the men would whistle at me. It didn’t happen often but man when it did, it made me smile. Nothing compares to the feeling of having a baby moving around inside of me.
My sister is over and JP and her are out in the living room watching Pink Floyd again. Someone please tell me what I am missing with this video they have. I just don’t get it. But who am I to say they can’t watch something if they want to. I don’t control them. If I did, JP wouldn’t smoke pot and we would have no more money problems. Everything would be perfect according to Samantha!
I feel another kick. Man you are active tonight. I am laying in the bedroom. No care to expose my unborn child to the Pink Floyd nor the pot that is smoked when they watch this stupid movie. But the kicking is amazing and I am sure JP would want to feel it. He hasn’t been home enough to feel the kicking and movement.
I pry myself off the bed, a feat that get’s a little harder as time progresses. As usual I assess the situation before I go into the living room. Listening to where in the show they are, where would be a good time to interrupt. I stand in the hall, the music deafening from the movie, peering around the corner, looking for what is happening on the screen.
I stand there. My eye’s are lying. My mind is blank. What I am seeing is not what is really going on. My brain is lying to me. This would never happen. My husband is not kissing my sister. My sister is not kissing my husband. His hands are not on her body. I am not shaking.
I blink my eyes over and over trying to will the scenery in front of me to change. It does not. I turn around, return to the bedroom. Lay on the bed, stare out the window into the night sky and watch the stars. I am silent crying, my tears sliding down my cheeks puddling onto my pillow. I am fat. I am ugly. My sister is beautiful who could blame him. I vow never speak of what I didn’t see. It didn’t happen. I am wrong.
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