Broken Bunnies

Chapter 15 - My time, my choice, my angel.

2010-05-31T16:01:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, June 21st, 1989

How do I feel? Tired, but I try not to show it. Angry, for the things I am going through alone. Excited for the changes and the baby I am about to have. Lonely, this upsets me most, I am lonely. No one is home to hug me, touch me, talk to me. I can’t remember the last time that I have been hugged. Fat, all though I know I’m pregnant it’s the things he did before that he doesn’t do now. ‘Pregnant woman are fat and ugly’ I remember this. Like an errand boy, I do things all day long to please others, but what about me?

Just a few weeks ago my sister called in the middle of the night. I could hear her wheezing in the phone and knew. I knew she was having an asthma attack. I told her in the phone I was on my way and I picked her up and drove her to Kaiser, running a red light when she hit me because she couldn’t breath I pulled up to the ER with her still alive. Sitting with her in the emergency room keeping her calm and watching as they poked and prodded at her with shots and breathing apparatus’ I listened to the doctors and their orders. I was her mini nurse at that moment. They left us alone and I took over. She would stop and try and talk and I would coach her, “Drink, they want you to drink” . We were released several hours later. I drover her home dropped her off and made sure she was tucked in bed and breathing good. When she had her surgery several months back I remember sleeping in the hospital room. But today I don’t find the strength to do that. I keep my focus on what is right and her health is top priority. She is doing better and I slip out of her door. Return across the street to my own apartment and catch the last hour of sleep I can. I never said a word. She is my sister, I will always be there for her. That’s just what sister’s do. Or am I wrong again?

How do I feel? Like I don’t exist, but it is a feeling I can live with. Like I no longer can make my husband happy and again, I can live with it. I thought it was the pain in his tooth, but I’m pretty sure it’s just me or quite possibly the fact that I am pregnant. I try to ask questions trying to get him to talk about the baby. Hoping that if we talked, he would get excited, but that doesn’t work. I’m getting scared. Scared for the changes going on and the money we need. I fear something terrible is going to happen.

How do I feel? In pain quite a bit. But trying not to complain. My legs fall asleep constantly. My fingers tingle when I write or do anything. My stomach hurts from all the chores I have to do. My back is in pain. All day and all night I seem to be constantly tired and never have enough time to do anything in one day. My ribs hurt to bend over, like they are being pried apart. My back is breaking out horribly and I can’t reach it. I feel like I’ve gained fifty pounds and its only been 18 pounds as of 2 weeks ago. I feel neglected, unwanted and like a total bitch.

Well, the bitch part is understandable. I do bitch a lot lately.

My doctor has tried several times to put me on bed rest, but I have persuaded him not to so far. I can’t afford it. How would I pay the bills and take care of the house. He has no idea what he is dealing with her. I am not the patient that has a ton of money and can just drop everything to lay in bed. I would rather be at work then home anyways. It’s less stressful at work.

Friday, July 14th, 1989

I lay on the couch tired and in pain and alone. I am getting used to it. Chrissy is by my side, I am watching Full House and dreaming of having a little girl that looks just like one of the girls on the show. Any one, Stephanie is just so cute! I get up to use the restroom when I feel them. My hands hit the walls and I am near doubled over in pain. Contractions again. I am not worried. I saw the nurse this morning. She told me I was 1 centimeter dilated and I probably still had another week to go.

I return to the couch, my common resting place lately and feel the warm water down my leg. My water broke. Great. Finding it a long shot I call JP’s work anyways. It’s way passed the time for the shop to still be opened but I would give it a try. No answer.

I sit back on the couch and do what I do best. He has my car, my keys, and he is somewhere I have no clue where. He said we didn’t have the money to rent a pager from the hospital for this time, so I have no choices. My only choice is to wait, since I don’t have the money for a taxi, I wait.

Hours click by on the clock and my contractions are closer and closer. I’m still waiting. My items are packed and near the door and I hear the car pull up. He walks in the door and I tell him he needs to take me to the hospital. He looks put out. I give him the look. The one that says it all in one swoop ‘I’m not going to ask you what you were doing or where you were, it’s almost 11:30 in the evening, so get your ass in the car and drive me to the hospital.’ He does just what my look says.

We arrive at the hospital. The world speeds up with nurses and doctors swirling all around me. I am in pain. The contractions coming very often and I want relief. A man comes in and tells me that I am to far along for an epidural. That concludes it, I will have to continue with the pain because my dear loving husband was missing in action for over 5 hours. I have arrived too late. So late in fact that the nurse is worried that my doctor won’t be able to make it in time for the delivery. It appears she doesn’t want to deliver this baby on her own. No worries honey, I have been doing most everything in my life alone. I will be here for this one also. You won’t be alone.

It’s true what they say about wanting to strangle and mangle your husband during child birth. Only in my brain I have legitimate excuses for why he needs to be punished. However, even in my pain, I am just grateful he is still in the room and not outside around the building getting stoned. At least he is here and I am not alone. I am tired of being alone.

It’s 1:55 in the morning and I have this wonderful baby girl laying on my chest. Looking at me as if I am the ’it’ in her world. It hits me in that very moment - I will never be alone again.

The nurses inform me that I was the last one checked in and the first one to deliver. They are joking, I know, when they tell me that for my next one I will have to check in to the hospital a week before my due date. I vow to myself that with this man, there will not be a second one. It hit’s me in that very moment that this small child has very well saved my life.

In the wee hours of the morning, I look down at this baby girl and I am flooded with emotion that everything I did was for her. For today, July 15th, 1989 an angel was born.

Thursday, August 24th, 1989

My precious child sleeps through the night and I am blessed. Chrissy has taken to sleeping under her crib during the night and upon her stirring comes straight out to get me. Some think I am crazy to let a cat in the same room with my newborn. But, I have watched them both and Chrissy seems to have taken on the role of protector more then wanting to harm her. She is my personal baby monitor on paws. Coming to get me before Gabby can make a sound or slightly stir. She is running me ragged having me check on her every few minutes. But I don’t mind.

This is the time I was made for. This very moment, the child in my home, the love I can give. This is what it is all about. Yet, even in this moment I must confess that I am a married parent that considers herself to be single. I knew from the moment I met my husband that I wanted children. I also knew that it probably wouldn’t be an easy road. However, if I had known then, what is true now, I would of divorced him when I found out I was pregnant.

He is rarely home and provides me no help. I have to clean up after him along with taking care of Gabby which tends to bring long days and short nights. It is nothing more then I can handle though. For I do not know how I could have lived without this beautiful happy little girl that is mine.

I hear her coo in her crib and am met with Chrissy in the hall running out to get me. I pat her on the head pick her up (the cat, not the kid) and walk in to see Gabby. She is still sleeping. Tossing slightly and I go over to her dresser where the music box sits. The cat in my arms I pick it up and twist the 2 white doves around several times. When I release it back to the dresser it starts to play. It fills the whole room with pleasure. Sounds of chimes that each tune makes ring through the home. The 2 white dove’s sit perched together as if they’re going to kiss, on top of this small base. I stay in the room petting Chrissy watching Gabby sleep as they go around and around till it slowly comes to an end.

Gabby stops stirring, Chrissy jumps down from my arms and nestles underneath the crib and I, as the music has stopped, return to my list of chores.

Chapter 14 - Blink your eye’s twice, turn around in a circle and it never happened.

2010-05-31T12:52:00.000-07:00

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.

Chapter 13 - If you have to work this hard at something that is illegal, you shouldn’t be doing it!

2010-05-31T12:48:00.000-07:00

Saturday, September 3rd, 1988

Everyone is totally against me. I am truly going crazy. I know this. It has to be true. What have I done to get everyone against me?

Jennifer, no longer talks to me. My own sister! She walks around barely speaking to me and slamming the doors. My relationship with her has only been getting worse since she moved in here . I know its only till she finds her own place. But I can’t understand why she doesn’t talk to me anymore? At least tell me what it is I have done?

She’ll talk to JP for the whole night and he’ll sit there explaining things to her that he would never explain to me. I find myself standing around the corner in the hall listening to their conversations that go on for hours. Pink Floyd, Racing, work… Then the minute I come from around the corner they shut up. The room is silent. I’ll sit on the couch, ask them what they are talking about.

“Nothing, we’re just watching TV” They could have slapped me in the face. It would have hurt less.

I’m jealous, I know this. I know in my heart my husband doesn’t care about me and that makes me insecure. I’ve always wanted to be Jennifer, which makes it even worse. She is so beautiful, skinny, well toned and followed around everywhere by guys. She had the admirer’s in high school, I had the boys asking me how they could date her. She had the boyfriends with ex-girlfriends so jealous of her that they would attack me. She was the one that got sewing lessons when we were growing up. Her toys were never broken when she received a gift, mine were chipped or cracked or darn right didn’t work. She had the best Barbie clothing, I on the other hand got spanked when I snuck away with her wedding dress trying to dress my Barbie for her ‘special day’. Ken still shirtless, Barbie needed a dress! Jen always dressed classy and well put together while I looked thrown together. Her make-up was perfect her hair never out of place! Where did she learn to do this? Who taught her how to be a woman? Why didn’t they teach me? Why didn’t I ever have a boyfriend? Why didn’t they ever follow me?

I have always wanted to be her. Jen, if I have done something to upset you just come to me. Please just tell me.

Friday, September 23rd, 1988

I’m bored. I have been off the pill ever sense we came back from Belgium. JP doesn’t want to talk about anything baby, he just wants the sex part of it. I thought couple’s were supposed to plan all this together? I’m guessing I was wrong on that also. Since I have been wrong on so much it doesn’t matter. I can do this also on my own.

I’m not really on my own. Chrissy is never away from my side when I am home. I guess I should have married my cat instead. This is really sad if you can imagine.

Here I am 21 crying like an ass in this book wishing life was just easier. Then again, if it was, the challenge would cease. I know I can’t get people to stop doing what they like to do, but please, I beg you JP please stop smoking pot. He tells me all the time that I don’t know what I am missing. So I finally tried it a week ago. I gave in, against all my better judgment, I gave in.

How can I adequately describe it for you. Picture yourself sitting on the couch the world spinning around you and the sounds in slow motion. You feel like you can’t touch the ground but you know your sitting. You try to move your arm and it takes all your effort and your eyes see nothing moving. You realize that if the house catches on fire that you would not be able to escape the fire alive, let alone rescue your cat. You can’t catch your breath and people are handing you the joint again telling you to ‘take another hit’. You pass it on to the next person, leaving your lips off of it. Your still trying to breath, something that has become increasingly difficult as the seconds pass on. Your not even sure if they are seconds, they may be hours. You try to go over in your mind all the hazards that might happen trying to prepare yourself in the event of an emergency. You can’t get your brain to concentrate and that’s when you feel it, the cells in your brain dying off one by one. There went a whole sector just now. Cell’s you know you will never get back. Cells you know you will need at some point in your life and what is going to happen when you need them and they aren’t there? You spend the rest of the evening near the telephone just in case you need to call for an ambulance because you can’t breath anymore, then it hit’s you, you forgot your address. Crap! You lost the brain cells that contained your address in them. So you dig through the house looking for a scrap of paper and pen so you can write your address on it from the bill that you found laying around.

It didn’t dawn on you that you can just use the bill you found and read it to the ambulance people. No, you actually had to re-write the address (more brain cell loss) and sit by the phone for the rest of the night.

The next afternoon JP awoke, proud and happy that he finally got his wife to smoke pot. Lighting up another join the passed it to me as if I would automatically like it. “No thank you, I tried it, I’m done.”

“What? You’re crazy, this shit is awesome!”

“No it’s not! It’s horrible. You always tell me not to knock it till I tried it. Well I tried it and I’m knocking it! It’s horrible! Why anyone would want to waste and evening smoking this crap is beyond me.”

His response flabbergasted me. “You just didn’t do it right.”

I am always wrong at everything I do. I can’t even get smoking pot right. I am doomed. I’m not a good wife, I’m not a good druggy and I will probably be a horrible mother! I’m doomed.

So, wanting to make my husband happy and give this wonderful past time of his a chance to pull me in to his gnarly den I commit to the week of trying to learn how to smoke pot correctly. A week of which I will never get back. More brain cells that are lost forever and I know I will need some day. He of course thinks he has me hooked. He goes out and buys more then usual and starts smoking it near constantly. He hands me the joint and I start dismissing it. Turning and walking away, this isn’t the life for me. He questions me with anger. I am not playing the game he thought he dealt me. He tells me again that I am not doing it right. It apparently takes work to acquire this ‘skill’,

“If I have to work so hard to do something that is so bad for me then it’s not something I want to do. I’ve tried it! I can knock it now. It’s still crap!” I turn to leave knowing full well that I have probably lost him. He can have his friends and my sister. They can go off and smoke pot and watch that Pink Floyd crap all they want. I’d rather clean a toilet!

I’m still missing my brain cells. I believe I can really feel the one’s that are gone!

Tuesday, September 27, 1988

I sit here at my desk, my birthday just behind me a day and the world ahead of me in a cloud. I am still trying to shake the feeling of smoking pot this last week and I am seriously beginning to wonder if I will ever feel as sharp and clear as I did the weeks prior. I am beginning to doubt it. Making me kick myself even harder for the stupidity of allowing someone to get me to do something I never wanted to do in the first place.

My job has been going great. I have been getting a lot more responsibilities. Moving up the ranks as they may say. I have gone from just answering phones to actually learning to do the credits and take the orders. I want to help my boss with the payroll. I know I can do it. But she still says no. Last week while we were doing some of the auditing stuff, I was the one that realized one of the line workers, actually was using the vice principals social security numbers. It just looked familiar to me, and when I looked it up, there it was, plain as day not his number.

It’s interesting watching them fill out their applications when they come in. You know they don’t know anything about working in America. I mean you hand them the application and they return it with 5 digits filled in the space for the social security number. I have to hand it back and ask for the rest of the number.

They fill in another digit and look at me. I return the look of ‘more’ and they do another number. This continues till they get all 9 numbers on the application. I know it’s a fake number, but per my boss there is nothing we can do about it. They provide us with the number and they get to work. It’s not our responsibility to verify that number is correct. But, wait, it’s a total different story when you accidentally guess the VP’s number!

It has taught me to carefully look over my paperwork I get from Social Security people that’s for sure.

I like being at work more lately then I do at home. I don’t know how to get JP to stop smoking pot and I don’t want to have a baby growing up in that type of home. So I am torn. Do I continue to try? Or do I call it quite and live in my world with no child and a husband that rarely comes home?

This is where I am hoping you respond back to me with the answer….

Chapter 12 - Seeing to much in Paris.

2010-05-30T23:05:00.000-07:00

Thursday August 18th, 1988

My suit cases are still packed and there are still travelers checks stuffed in a secret pocket of my purse. I think JP believes me when I tell him he drank most of our money away. I’m not telling him otherwise. I don’t know if the money I have is enough to get me on a train heading anywhere away from him, but I feel better having it in my purse. It’s my secret.

I tried to get him to take me to the airport the next day. He refused. He kept saying that it would look bad to his parents and family. I have yet to figure out why my leaving would look worse then him abandoning his wife for the day while he came home plastered falling drunk. But I am a stupid bitch and I just need to know my place.

That place is in the passenger seat starring out the side window watching the scenery flying by as we head towards Paris, France. In the movies, when a man is taking his woman to Paris, the woman always looks happy. She always looks like the luckiest woman in the world. Excited and full of joy and anticipation. I don’t feel like that type of woman right now. I am sad. I want to go home. Yet, going home has been made very clear to me as something that will not happen.

We drive to meet with Christophe and Sabine. The same people that spent months in my house with me being invisible. Is it possible for me to be excited to see them? I am full of apprehension. I know I will sit and listen to them talking and sit some more while they drink and sit some more while they eat and sit some more while they talk even more. Most all of which I will not be able to understand. I am, however, getting quite good at understanding when they are talking about me. Again, it’s the body language and tone of voice that changes. The sly little glances that they give me.

I keep seeing all these lace shops in all the town’s. I wonder if someone could teach me. At least then I could have something to do while I sat and waited for them to finish talking. Or maybe they could throw me a topic every once in a while so I at least knew what we were talking about. I’m not quite sure when they laugh if they are laughing about someone crossing the road or if I have spinach in my teeth!

Christophe opened a crepe shop in a small town outside of Paris. It’s cute and has American license plates all over the walls. Where in the world did he get that many license plates? He wants us to send him more. JP told him we would. I sat there when he told me we were going to send them to him and almost objected. Almost that is till I realized that JP thought I had Christophe’s address and I knew for a fact I did not, since it was on the piece of paper I had just thrown away. This would be the last time I may just have to see them. Besides, I am not stealing license plates for someone in France so they can hang them on a wall!

I am again sitting in the passenger seat of the small fiat flying down the road. We are for sure heading toward Paris, France. It is getting dark and JP keeps talking about this park he wants to take me to. I am tired and while I would love to go to a park, wouldn’t the morning be better? Why do we have to go right now?

We stop for dinner at a small café. The waiter places us in the seat next to another couple. They look at us and then continue talking. We look over the menu and as usual I lean over and ask JP to order for me. What does everything mean? What would I like? He is explaining it to me and the people next to us look over again and start talking to each other. JP stops talking and looks at me. I ask him what? But he shoo’s me, order’s our meals in English which strikes me as odd. For the remainder of the dinner we don’t talk. He has a smile on his face and while I know something is up and it has to do with the people sitting next to us. I don’t know what it is. Till we get up to leave. JP pays the bill, puts a tip on the table and in French speaks to the waiter with what sounds like a thank you for the service. He talks louder then he usually does and I am puzzled. Puzzled till I see the look of embarrassment on the couples faces next to us.

JP smiling ear to ear explains to me as we were leaving that when the couple heard we were speaking English they must have thought we didn’t understand French. The man started to talk to his supposed girlfriend about all the things he wanted to do to her once they got home. Apparently in very good detail. From the look of the woman’s face once she realized at least one of us did indeed understand everything he was saying to her, I was embarrassed for her.

We get back in the car and head out to the park I am supposed to see. As we drive up into a dark area with little lights I am beginning to believe that I was raised in a cave. Here I am sitting in the passenger seat being told to look out the window and watch and all along I am trying to figure out what it is I am supposed to be seeing. It’s dark outside. I see people standing around talking but….

Oh my goodness they are not talking! Once again I amazed into embarrassment by what my husband thinks would be good for his wife to see. He pulls up to a woman and tells me to talk to her. I don’t understand, nor do I want to. As she is approaching my side of the window, he is still refusing to drive away. She is wearing a jacket and high heals and nothing else. I am backing up in my seat nearly into the back seat of the car, literally, I am screaming for him to drive away. JP is laughing!

This man has taken his wife to a hooker park. I draw the line! He is laughing and hanging out the window talking to these woman and I am huddled into a ball in the passenger seat with my head buried in my lap. “Take me to the hotel” I say over and over. I later find out that this is a famous park known for this. It is not just a chance that it happened. He planned this. Bois de Boulogne is a known place to pick up hookers at night.

I may just have to burn my eye ball’s right now.

He doesn’t seem to understand how offended I am by this. He dismisses me telling me I am to uptight, a cold fish and I need to lighten up. Maybe he is right. What is wrong with me not wanting to see that? Why am I so offended by it, and upset that my own husband would take me to a place like this and wanting me to talk to these woman?

The thoughts of my world and the thoughts of his world are not making sense! We are not living on the same page.

Saturday August 20th, 1988

I have stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower! For those that haven’t, it’s really bigger then it looks. I have eaten croissants for breakfast and watched people that are to drunk for words stumble across streets and into traffic. I have had people blow cigarette smoke directly in my face once they found out I was American. I have seen woman not wearing enough clothing and I have seen woman that really need to shave or wear long sleave shirts! I have seen enough of Paris that’s for sure.

We are back in Belgium. I sit here in the park of the Citadel, Quentin and JP are playing and I am watching them. I am jealous. I want a child so bad of our own that it hurts to see them playing together. I know we have problems but wouldn’t a child fix those? JP would have to grow up and be more responsible once I was pregnant. You see that in movies all the time. The party animal man learns he is having a child coming and turns towards daddy mode. It’s just natural to happen.

JP asks me what is wrong, I am sulking a bit and I just blurt it out. “I want to have a baby”.

I can hear him sigh as he is leaning behind me as I am sitting on the grass. In his accent he tells me “If that’s what you want them I’m OK with trying when we get home.”

“Really?” I am beaming. Really? Is all I can keep saying. I am excited! I have forgotten about being left for hours, being driven by naked woman and the list of other countless snips we had during the trip. I want a baby so desperately. In my heart I just know this will bring us together. It has to.

We start our journey home tomorrow. Everything will be better tomorrow.

Chapter 11 - No toilet flushes the same and how does one call for an operator?

2010-05-30T21:10:00.000-07:00

Sunday August 14th, 1988

I have escaped! Well, really I just went for a walk. I think I really need to be alone. If I stayed in the house one more moment with the smile plastered to my face it may just freeze that way. My mother used to tell me that would happen when I made a mean face, isn’t it the same with the smiling face? Won’t it stick also?

Just down the road there is a wonderful mini forest tucked away from view. Hidden in the back between a few houses. Is it really a forest? The tree’s look like pencils, tall and skinny, nothing like the giant sequoias that are in my back yard in California. I don’t know why they surprise me and delight me all in the same moment. But they do. They bring a real smile to my face as I stand in front of them.

I excused myself from the house with JP and Quentin. They were playing pick-up sticks in the living room. His mother watching with a sad look on her face. She is a dear woman but she just seems like either 1. I am not right for her son or 2. She is scared of something. That and I know she doesn’t get to see her grandson as much as she would like, so I thought they could use some time together without the awkward American in the way.

I needed to be alone. I needed to walk around and see what this side of the world has in store for me. JP seems so happy here. This is his element, and while it’s not mine, he is happy here. Last night we went out to another Tavern, it just seems to be what one does in Belgium. People kept buying me drinks, the men especially. At one point I had 3 cointreau tonics lined up waiting for me to finish. How can one person drink so much? I didn’t understand it till I had to use the restroom. Everyone kept leaving the table, going to the restroom and coming back ordering more beers. Where are they putting them all? I’ve had 1 drink and not quite sure I’m going to be able to finish the other 3! I asked JP to walk me to the restroom . He does, and as I walked in he started heading back to the table. I took one step in and quickly took a step back and grabbed his arm. “I need the woman’s restroom!” I exclaimed. He was drunk I knew, but really, he led me to the men’s room. There was a man peeing in front of me!

“That is the toilet” He said. His accent thick and slurred. “They’re all the same here”

If he was annoyed with me or surprised, I didn’t know. My legs tightened together, I needed to go pee. He turned and left back to the table and I stood in front of the door labeled ‘Toilet’. Great! I took a deep breath, grabbed for the door and walked in holding my breath. I was immediately met with the 2 urinals and 1 stall of which was being used by a man throwing up!

I let out my breath and surrender to this country that I can not understand. Drink till you puke, how mighty brilliant and a waste of good money I might add.

I head back to the table, relieved and disgusted and whispered in JP’s ear, “that guy over there was just throwing up in the restroom.”

“So?” He says so nonchalantly I just had to ask.

“So? Why is he still drinking if he’s sick? Shouldn’t he go home?” That made perfect sense to me. If you don’t feel good go home!

I got the disgusted annoyed look. “He’s not sick, we throw up so we can keep drinking. Empty our stomach’s so we can drink more!” He excused himself from the table and headed towards the ‘toilet’.

I was disgusted even more!

I am still disgusted.

But that doesn’t change the fact that as I stand in front of these mini trees that JP seems happy. We aren’t fighting here and I am falling in love with him all over again. That and I am blessed beyond belief that we made it back to his sisters house still alive and am I remembering correctly that I petted a porcupine last night?

I shake my head and start heading back to the house. We are taking his parents to Brugge today. Well, really, I think they are taking me to Brugge. I am the foreigner that has never been.

Sunday, August 14th, 1988 - Evening

It’s official - Waffles in Belgium are the most different and wonderful thing that I have ever had! I have found the recipe and marching my butt home with the special sugar and butter laden concoction!

You have not lived till you’ve had french-fries from a stand off the side of the road drenched in Andalouse Sauce! They are so much better then what I have ever had. I am still trying to figure out why they are called ‘French’ fries when they were created in Belgium. But that is a later debate.

All toilets flush differently. When in doubt check the toilet way before you actually have to go. Some have a lever up on the wall, or above the toilet near the ceiling, or a small hiding button on the side or some are just a knob on the top of the tank where you either push or pull! You have been warned. Check before you have to go!

I have found the house of my dreams and someday I may just own it! This large beautiful house that sits on the rivers edge just calls my name each time we pass by it. It’s odd roof angles, white trim, red curtains hanging inside and 3 chimneys seen from the outside. It is calling my name. I wonder what you have to do to flush the toilets in that house.

But I am officially sick of going out partying and drinking. I’m 20 years old and I can’t figure out why all these people are so dead set on drinking and wasting time and money hanging out in a smoky tavern trying to one up each other. I am sick of it! I refuse to throw up just so I can drink more! How the heck do I politely get myself back to his sisters house?

I don’t!

Tuesday, August 16th, 1988

Yesterday we spent the day with Quentin. We still ended up in a Tavern. I’m trying to keep an open mind I really am. I ordered a coke, I’m just done with drinking, I don’t care what people think of me anymore.

This morning we are sitting at breakfast visiting with his parents and sister. His father Albert is not very well. He shakes a lot and has this sad look on his face. I swear I can look in his eye’s and see a man that worked hard his whole life. But what else is behind your eyes? What stories could you tell me about the war and being captured and shot and escaping? There is history in this man’s eyes and my language barrier is a hurdle I can’t overcome. He catches me starring at him and he wink’s at me. I wink back and smile at him. I may not speak his language but I put love in my smile.

A car pulls down the path and everyone starts talking real fast and gets up. His mother starts talking faster and throwing up her hands. JP gets up and heads to the door opening it letting Fifi in. This larger then life man stands in the front room, everyone is talking fast and his mother does not have a pleasant look on her face. There is history here that I do not know. Something is up and I can’t make it out. I stay seated at the table and wait it out. I can’t understand, they are fast talking once again.

JP comes up to me and says that Fifi asked if he could take him out for an hour to introduce him to someone. Would I mind?

I wasn’t being invited! Who was this person he was going to meet? And yes go, but wait, don’t leave me home alone in this house. We don’t speak the same language! If I need something how am I going to ask for it? Where are you going? How do I get a hold of you?

“Oh sure hon’,” I reply, “I’m about an hour away from being ready to leave anyways.” My voice leveled in a cheery tone for the Fifi that is watching my reply.

It has now been 6 hours and he is still not home. I have spent 1 hour getting ready, 1 hour starring out of the upstairs bedroom window at the drive willing the car to come back, 2 hours watching his mother pace the tile off the floor in the living room, 1 hour walking in the back grounds with the cows admiring the garden, 30 minutes watching his mother with the phone book frantically calling all the local taverns to see if JP was there. I heard her say his name a lot! This last 30 minutes was spent packing.

My flight ticket firmly in my hand, the rest of the travelers check’s counted and placed in my pocket, I stand in front of the phone. I need to know what number to dial and as I pick up the phone and press the zero on the key pad I am not met with an operator.

His mother is standing in front of me, tears running down her face, she is breaking my heart. Correction, he is breaking my heart. It’s now been 7 hours! I know there are phone’s in every single tavern and payphones all over the towns. Every home has a phone. I know he has the number. He knows we don’t speak the same language. This is cruel for all of us. He may be happy here, but it’s time to grow up!

I show his mother my flight ticket and point to the phone. She nods, takes the ticket, picks up the receiver and begins to dial a number. She fast talks for a bit and then hands me the phone. Holding it out to me to take. I put the phone to my ear saying “Hello? Do you speak English?”

I let out a sigh as a woman on the other end of the line says yes, and offers me help. We talk for a bit and I explain to her that I have a ticket with a departure in a week and can I please move it up. The news isn’t good. They don’t have any seats free for days and on top of that the cost of changing the ticket would be several hundred dollars.

I count the money I have with me. JP has most of it and I don’t have enough. I am once again stuck! She tells me that she will look into it some more and call me if they can help me in anyway. I hand the phone back to Marie whom gives her their phone number and I sit to wait, willing for the phone to call back with a solution.

I want to go home. I want to be on solid American ground with English speaking people and large trucks and cars and brown landscaping and toilets that all flush the same way. I have no idea how I am even going to get to the airport, but I wait for the call anyways.

The night draws closer and the sun has gone down. It has now been well over 10 hours since JP left for his ‘hour’ I carry my suitcase back upstairs, deflated that she never called me back, but determined to try again tomorrow when yelling from downstairs is heard.

I look out the bedroom window and see Fifi dropping off JP. Marie and Albert are out the door yelling again in fast French that I don’t understand. A mother and father ganging up on their adult son. I stay upstairs. It’s safer up here for me. Besides, they seem to be doing a really good job at setting him straight for me. I don’t understand a word, but from body language and the tone of voice, it’s not a pleasant conversation.

JP is drunk. He is down right plastered beyond belief, I can hear it in his words that he is slurring together and can see him stumbling to get inside the house. He waves off his friend and waves off his parents and I hear him fumbling up the steep ladder trying to make it upstairs.

For a brief moment I hope for the stairs to give way. Or possibly for him to fall and make a larger fool out of himself. But neither happens. He makes it upstairs and into the room. Take’s a look at my packed suitcases with anger on his face. He starts talking in French.

I interrupt. “I can’t understand you! English!”

“Who fuck you think are?” His words molding together, but it’s his famous line. I know what he meant to say.

I don’t hold back. “Your wife!” Out of respect for his mother, who seems to be more upset then I am at this moment, I keep my voice low. “The wife you left here for over 10 hours, worried about you and scared you left her or worse, got hurt. The same wife that doesn’t understand or speak the language in this country you have brought her in to!” I pause. “Who the fuck do I think I am? I know, I am your wife!”

“Fuck you, learn French you stupid idiot.” He stumbles out.

I am taken aback. Has he not seen me trying. Has he not told me over and over that I can’t speak the language and to stop butchering his language as I do. He knows my speech problems as a child that I had to overcome. He knows there are words I still can not say in my own language. He knows, I know he knows, because I have told him.

I don’t respond as he is waiting. He looks at me with what appears to be impatience. “I’m not going to fight with a drunk man.” I reply.

“I’m ot runk” He slurs out.

I look at his red face, black eye’s, soiled clothes. He reeks of cigarette smoke and booze. All I can do is look at him in pity. “Really? OK then. Tomorrow you can take me to the airport. I’m going to bed.” Fully clothed I plopped on the ‘whatever you call this type mattress’ and will myself to fall asleep. I’m not going to fight with a drunk man. They may be fun to watch make fools of themselves, but this one I know for sure is dangerous to fight with.

Chapter 10 - Someone Stole All The Green Crayons in the box!

2010-05-30T16:47:00.000-07:00

Thursday, August 11th 1988
Amsterdam, Holland

We are in Amsterdam now, leaving the airport and I think people are all really sick. They are all so nice and it’s really cold outside. Well, not that cold to be honest. But cold enough that I was glad to see the fiat rental car pull up. The car is huge! OK, that is an understatement. To be honest the car is big enough that I was grateful once we got it all loaded with our 3 pieces of luggage that there was still room in it for JP and I. Well, possibly, I am sitting with my carry-on on my lap.

We are flying down road A2 heading to Belgium. I say flying - because we are flying! The sky is cloudy and it is raining, this weather however does not stop JP from going 140 down the road. I have to keep remembering that it’s kilometer’s no miles. So really that’s just somewhere in the 80’s. Way to fast for me. But not enough to make me lose the smile on my face.

All the taxi’s here are Mercedes. Really, I was watching them back at the airport and when I asked JP, he looked at me like I was crazy for even asking. “Ya, So” was all he said. The country must be rich, is all I can think of, the the average taxi driver to drive a Mercedes Benz around.

Everywhere I turn there is more green. I noticed that as we were landing in the plane and now, as we are driving down the freeway. Everything is green. It’s not just one color of green, it’s every shade of green you could ever imagine. It’s like they were giving the 64 box of crayons and they took the sleeve that held all the green one’s and just dumped it over. Letting them fall over the fields and hills and wash past the freeways and creaks, mixing together making more colors as they blend. It’s a breathtaking mix of green.

We just passed a windmill!

The green color isn’t just the only change, I am noticing the cows. They look just like ours that we have in our country but these are stupid. They’re running all around and across the green fields. I have never seen cow’s just running. Maybe they are running for fun? Several of them are laying down and I ask JP “why are some of the cows laying down and other‘s running all over the place?” I’m thinking they might be hurt or something.

“They’re just cow’s” He says back. “They take better care of them here.” I believe him. How lucky the cow’s must be to be in this country then back in America just standing in one place.

He is driving faster, I know it’s because he wants to see his family and I can’t blame him. I would be the same. After the hours in the plane and now the near 4 hours getting to his parent’s house I am finding myself extremely nervous. It never really dawned on me I would be meeting his parent’s!

There is a little ‘eek’ feeling that rolls over in my stomach as we come down a hill and turn onto a city street. Zooming through the tiny skinny streets with rock buildings on both side’s I wonder, just how far away are we really? Do I have time to change my mind now? Will they like me? Probably not! I straighten what I can of my hair and clothing and get ready for what seems to be a meet and greet in the short future.

My heart starts to race as he turns the clown car onto a gravel road leading to just a few houses. We pull up to the one on the right and JP motions that it’s the one. I get out, being met by his sister who comes out of the house to meet us! She seems nice. I understand nothing of what she says as his parent’s follow behind her also. I stand there with a smile on my face, lost in the conversation that is going on around me and wait. I wait for the conversation to be translated for me to understand. I wait. I really wish I could speak French. I wait. They are talking so fast! I wait.

I follow them inside while I wait.

Friday, August 12th, 1988

Observations have shown that while the country is very green and buildings are very beautiful the mattress’ are very hard. I don’t even really know how to describe it, other then they just feel like a large bumpy old pillow thrown on a frame called a bed and people just sleep on them. Who care’s that you wake up all crooked and lopsided. I wonder, do they know that there are these large mattress’ out there that are wonderful and soft and cushiony and cradle you gently, drifting you into a loving sleep!

And what’s up with the cow under the bedroom window at 5 in the morning? That thing is noisy! Nearly ever morning at home I am woken up by the Harley Davidson neighbors with their - don’t they call them ‘Hogs?’ Well here in Belgium we have real life livestock to wake us up! How special is that?

We are heading out to visit his brother. He is a mail carrier so JP is hoping that he can catch up with him on his route.

We actually find him at the local pub, bar, saloon… what do they call ‘em? He is sitting on a stool, at the bar, drinking a beer! Never in America have I ever seen my postman sitting in a bar, drinking a beer in uniform with my mail on the stool next to him. OK, maybe I am sheltered.

We leave the bar and head back into the town of Dinant to pick up his son. I am again nervous, getting used to the feeling of knots living in my stomach. We pull up to a street with small skinny sidewalks and a large stone wall. The house, in the middle of town is large and European country in style. Something I would never be able to afford to recreate at home. A woman comes to the door and opens it. She is blond (not natural), very skinny, and wearing blue eye shadow. Blue? I catch myself starring at her eye lids not able to get passed the blue color. I haven’t seen that blue since the late 70’s. I am shocked even more to find that this woman is Martine, JP’s ex wife. She is pulling us into her house down the large hallway with the dark large woodwork into a sitting room. We go no further then the sitting room. We sit on the benches, they are talking fast French to each other, she keeps looking at me with odd glances and I wonder if it’s because I can not stop starring at her eye lids.

I wonder if JP still love’s her and still wishes he could be with her? I wonder if he was given the option if he would go back to her? I wonder how someone so pale and thin thinks dark blue eye shadow could possibly look good on her?

The conversation lull’s for a moment and I take a chance to talk. “I love your house, It’s beautiful!” JP looks embarrassed he has to translate it for me. But he does. He say’s it with a chuckle, I imagine he probably threw in a comment about how I was raised in a barn or something like that. But she smiles back.

“Merci,” She replies and points out the window towards the back yard. With more color’s of green then I have ever seen in California she starts talking in French to JP.

“She says they have a BBQ. They BBQ out in the back when they weather is nice.” He translates for me. I am sure she told him to tell me this since most of the conversations I am never a part of.

“Really?” I comment back and then wonder, why would she tell me that? Doesn’t everyone BBQ? Isn’t that just what people do? But she just nods in my direction like it’s something special that not many have the privileged of doing.

Quentin came down from the upstairs to be with JP. Seeing father and son together, hugging each other was a site to see. They clung to each other like glue! They sat and talked for a bit more and both got up. It was my queue we were leaving, I am getting good at following body language. We are taking Quentin back to see JP’s parents for a visit.

JP hugged and kissed Martine as we walked out of the door and just as she closed it, he turned and looked at me, “what’s up with the blue eye’s?“ I burst into laughter.

Friday, August 12th, 1988 - Evening

We are sitting in yet another tavern (that’s what they are called.) and I am grateful that the American boy that lives next to his sister Catherine has come with us. Greg is in the Army and stationed here in Belgium. We spend the night sitting in the corner of this tavern while everyone else comes in starring at me. I smile and just when I feel as if the smile is beginning to fade I smile some more. I have never seen JP happier. His friends have all heard he was in town and they are pouring in to the tavern to say hello. Our table is full of people coming and going and most are staring at me. Most don’t say hello, they just look at me and talk to JP. Greg, the American, I am sure feels as if he needs to stay near me since I have no one else to talk to, I don’t understand the language and heaven forbid someone try and talk to me I wouldn’t know how to respond. I feel sorry for his wife Wendy as she sat next to him. I wonder if they are having as much fun as I am not at this very moment. I smile, as I watch people drinking, the more they drink the louder they become. The more I smile.

In walks this man, tall, messy dark hair, slightly over weight and loud! Could it be that he came from another tavern or is he just normally this loud without being drunk yet? He see’s me and I near duck under the table and he comes rushing up on me. Am I in trouble? What have I done? He came right up to me kissing me on my cheeks and talking to JP. My smile is gone and I am trying frantically to figure out just what or who this person is. That is when I hear it, people are calling him Fifi!

Fifi? Fifi is what we call our pet poodle’s in America. Fifi is not the name of a man. Not in America at least. He looks at JP and talks quickly to him. Why do they all talk so fast?

JP turns to me and tells me that Fifi said ‘An American girl is very beautiful’. Maybe a man named Fifi isn’t that bad after all.

Chapter 9 - Lying Pays Off - Literally!

2009-06-17T12:42:00.000-07:00

Chapter 9 - Lying Pays Off - Literally!

Thursday, August 11th, 1988

It is 6:30am, I have a smile larger then my face can stand on it. Can you hear my heart beating with love and excitement right now? I feel as if I am about to burst with joy!

The double glass doors part as we walk up to them. They are welcoming us in, almost as if we are meant to be there. We are! This is where we are meant to be. This is the day that all my lying, hiding and sneaking around has paid off. For this is the day that I will step foot off of American soil and into another land! I am heading to Europe. Luggage in hand I am off to Europe!

I get us checked in and while I have seen an airport before, it hasn't been often. I am soaking up all the sights and smells. The cute old ladies sitting off the side, laughing and talking to each other. Amazing how their voices sound so loud in this large expanse of an airport!

My heart skips a beat in excitement.

Tell me how do the pilots and stewards maintain there excitement each time they have to fly? They do this for a living! Amazing, just plain ole amazing. It brings me back to when I was 8 years old. Mom walking me across the street to meet our new neighbors. We lived in San Luis Obispo, new to the neighborhood ourselves, and shes walking me across the street to say hello. They moved into this grey house with white trim. Katie comes to the door skinny and beautiful, her hair perfect and just a picture standing in front of us. My mother holds out her hand and introduces us. "Hello, I'm Jessica, this is my daughter Robin (Ya, my name was different, that's a whole different story there) we live across the street over there." Mom pointed to the gold house on McCollum street. We were always the welcome wagon. If you moved onto our block we were there welcoming you home.

What happened next blew us both over, near backwards. "Hi!" The voice coming from the small frame "I'm Katie" Sounded like a high pitched mouse! "It's nice to meet you!" Someone quick hide the glassware its gonna explode! Wait? Is she talking? Is that sound actually coming out of her mouth?

It's not often I get to see my mother taken a back, this was one of those times. A memory ingrained in my head as we finished our welcome and headed back across the street. My darling, always sweet and proper mother says from under her breath, "Do you think that was her real voice?" We didn't remember anything that she had said. Later we learned she was an airline steward, the first one I ever met and in the 70's I wanted to be her so bad! I would lay in bed and dream of flying off to countries and cities all over the world. Traveling my way around the globe and getting paid to do it.

To get myself started on my career in the air I did the closest thing I could, I hired myself out to be her precious Kitten's care giver. It was a start. I would lay on the floor in her living room with Kitty rolling all over me, lick me up and down. She would profess her undying love to me and gratefulness that I was playing with her and feeding her and I would get away from school work for a bit. It was a win-win situation if I ever had one.

Now, as I sit in the cafe, my husband sitting across from me I stare at the 2 men sitting to my left. They are speaking in a foreign language and I am intently listening. "What language are they speaking?" I finally ask JP.

He listens a bit, "German" He replies.

I'm Smiling, "that will be us in a few hours."

"What?" He asks. I repeat and he looks at me puzzled, "Belgium isn't in Germany." He says, as if he thought I was thinking he was German.

"Oh I know that." Nothing will break my smile. "That's gonna be us, talking English in another country." I stare at them more intently. They don't notice I am watching them. "We're going to be the foreigners." I am in dream land, my brain is already in Belgium.

"You will be." JP says nonchalantly. He's right, he will be home. It has to be a better experience for him. He is going home, what could be better then that?

What am I saying? Visiting for the first time could be! I'm still on a cloud.

They load us up into the plane, all placed in our assigned seats nice and neatly tucked in. Like sardines packed tightly just waiting for our destination to arrive so they can tear off the lid and let us roam free in the new land were heading to. JP was nice enough to let me sit in the window seat. I sit intently watching as we prepare for take off, my eyes roaming everywhere. I find myself starring at the man of to the side of the plane, he is holding to sticks, short. They appear to have lights on the end of them and I stop and watch him till he disappears towards the front of the plane.

We start to move now, going backwards. My hands clenched tightly in my lap, I feel my breathing pick up in pace. What is the plane crashes? I did tell my mother where I was going? She knows when I will be back. What happens if we end up lost in a deserted area?

What if we crash? We start to drive forward, picking up pace faster with each second. The scenery outside of the window is going by in a green blur, I am sitting in my seat about to throw up. The front of the plane lifts up, I feel my body shift backwards slightly and I can no longer feel the wheels under the plane. We are in the air! I look down at my hands, still clenched tightly in a tight ball, I release them and let out a sigh. We didn't crash, this time.

We are on our way to Vancouver Canada to catch a plane to take us directly to Amsterdam where we will drive by car to Belgium. I am amazed at how smooth the ride is. If the seat was a little bigger I could imagine myself sitting at home. Ok, the seat would have to be a lot bigger. I keep looking out the window. We pass over California and the clouds part as it is magic. We must be going over Oregon now, the land is very green. There is one small swimming pool and one large football field scattered amongst all the land. Clouds are coming back, they are cleaner looking, very very white.

It isn't a long flight and I find them preparing us for landing. How cool is this and the fact I get to do it all again in just a few hours. We walk off the plane and JP decides to get some gum. He wants to help with his ears popping. We stroll into this small gift shop, Gum is 60 cents. We are told we can pay in US money, and they give us Canadian money back. A coke from the vending machine is 1.25 and if you would rather buy one from the cafe across the walkway that would cost you 2.00. This is not the place to live if you were addicted to coke that's for sure.

We met a man from Germany. He was really nice, like always I am talking to everyone that will listen, and it is fun. Everything is in French with English just underneath it! How cool is that and how wonderful to help me with learning French. I am still trying to learn French, it seems like an endless endeavour.

We are now back on the plane. The plane is again backing up and I can feel my hands tighten up in a ball again, squeezing in pain. The pilot comes over the air saying that we are cleared to take off and I can just imagine him up front pushing his foot on the gas peddle as we speed up down the runway. I do it again. We are going to crash? What if we crash? Will we survive? Will anyone find us? My stomach is going to hurl. I hold my breath.

The front of the plane moves toward the sky and as the wheels lift off the ground I keep my breath held. Not until we are off the ground further a few seconds later do I start breathing again! I sit still catching my breath when the pilot comes over the air and tells us we are passing over the Hudson. I can't see it from where I am at. I trust him. Why would he lie to us about something like that?

I settle down into my small seat. It reminds me of the Barbie airplane I had as a little girl. The one where you could open it up and Barbie was the stewardess. Gidget and her friends would hop on take a flight to Malibu. Ken would be the pilot (always shirtless I might add) and Barbie would be the wonderfully dressed stewardess. She would walk up and down the isle with her cart (oh I still have that cart!) passing out beverages and food to her customers. She was always so well dressed and wonderfully mannered.

They start to come around selling us headsets. They are 5 dollars and with that we can listen and watch the movie they are going to play for us. Today the special feature is 'Like Father Like Son'. I have already seen it, but I will watch it again. It will keep me busy and since JP doesn't talk much, It will keep me out of trouble.

Just before they start the movie they bring us lunch. It is the cutest Barbie and Ken style lunch that anyone could ever imagine. It is exactly the same type of lunch that I imagined my Barbie doll handing out to her passengers on my toy airline. Only in my play, the food was much better then this food. Still, I sneak the package of crackers into my purse before she took my pile of trash.

I settled in and watched the movie. I don't like re watching movies. It's hard to get drawn into something if you already know how it's going to end, and this is exactly the same thing. I find myself rewriting the ending to be more believable and then funnier. I sit listening while I look out the window. the site of the Atlantic ocean coming up below me is spectacular. It is a deep Bic blue pen color. No smog to be seen in site, just blue with scattered white clouds. The clouds are so pure white that it looks like God opened up the sky and dropped a bag of cotton balls down from heaven. I stare out at the ocean and imagine what is going on under the water that I can not see right now. Do the fish know I am up here? Are they wondering where I am going or what I am doing, like I am wondering about them? I wonder if there is a shark underneath me right now. Is he chasing a smaller fish or did he just have dinner? Does he have the ability to watch a movie?

It is 0530 California time and I am still starring out at the water. Then it comes, just 12 minutes later it is pitch black! We have passed the date line. A line I never knew existed. I look back and see the daylight and look forward and see the darkness. It is the most spectacular site I have ever seen. I sit mesmerized. It is now 0614 and its purely black outside. This blackness can not be considered smog in anyway, Because it's not. Whales do not create smog, only cars and factories, and if a car is down there then that is another wonder.

It isn't much longer that land slips underneath us. Even sooner that the pilot pipes up and advises us we are near Amsterdam, were we will be landing. I am amazed how nice everyone on this plane is. But then again they might all be terrified like me that the plane is going to crash. I look out the window seeing the colors of green. Its like someone has a box of crayola crayons and they used every one of the greens in the box. Very different from California this time of year. Where basic brown, tan and green are the only colors you see.

We are prepared to land, my chair is straight up my hands clenched tightly in my lap pressing down into my legs. My breathing stopping and starting, my stomach turning around in circles. I can hear the wheels being brought out. I see the wing flaps moving and flapping and I pray the pilot knows what he is doing.

Shortly after that we have landed. I am officially in Amsterdam, Holland! I am so excited I would jump up and down with excitement except I know that would cause people to look at me and JP would call me stupid and he would walk away and right now I need him.

Oh my gosh it is so cold! I need to buy a coat!

Chapter 8 - I'm Insane

2009-05-15T19:07:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, April 13th, 1988

I'm not doing good right now.

How do you know when your going insane? Is there a moment in time when you realize it and you know that's when you need to seek help? And when you come to that moment will you know it? When you know it, who do you call? Who is the person you call and ask for help?

Oh God I think I am going insane!

I can't sleep, I can't calm down, and I don't know what to do. JP and I aren't doing really good right now. I really think I need help, but I don't know what to do. It's all my fault! I'm supposed to do it whenever he wants it right? How do wives do it just at a moments notice? What happens when they don't want to or really do have a headache? How do they still do it?

JP wanted to have sex last night and I just plain wasn't in the mood. I should have known the consequences it would have had on me. I should have just done it, It would have made him happy and I wouldn't be feeling this way. He is so upset with me, not the 'I'm going to ignore you upset', he's letting me know every chance he gets that I'm a bitch and a cunt and I'm selfish!

I wanna go home, sit in my sweats with a bowl of ice cream and sit outside. I wanna eat ice cream while I watch the car's pass by on the street behind me. People watch as they go on their nightly walk. It sounds simple and heavenly, but I'm to scared to go home. I don't want to be in the apartment all by myself, I want to be with my husband having him hold me in his arms, touching me. I want the feeling of safety, the feeling that no one will hurt me and that I am safe.

I am scared.

I'm sacred that if he is home he will continue to yell at me and call me names.

I'm scared that if he isn't home I will start to cry and I will never be able to stop.

Oh god who do I call for help?

Thursday, April 14th, 1988

I'm still hurting, It seems to be a constant pain now. It's upsetting, is this the way I will be the rest of my life? I feel like running to my Mommy's, but Mommy is hours away. Besides I need to handle this myself. My world is falling apart!!

The woman down stairs is upset with me. JP told me she was very rude to him telling him that I better just mind my own business. I don't know what that means. Other then knocking on her door awhile ago about her music, I keep to myself!

Stacie next door to her used to be my friend, or so I thought. She's upset with me now, that I wouldn't tell her what was going on. I told her I didn't know but she shrugged me off and went to Dee Dee's apartment to talk to her. JP is right, my friends just use me. When they don't get what they want, they don't want to be friends with me.

JP is mad at me still. I honestly don't know what I would do without him. What happens if he leaves me? What do I do? Is he only with me so he can get his green card? What happens after he gets it? Will he leave me? Why does it seem like everyone I used to be friends with now is telling me I'm a horrible person? I know I treat JP like shit, I know he doesn't like it when I talk so much and 'build a clock' as he says. Chrissy is always climbing all over me meowing for attention. I can never seem to give her enough attention. I'm a horrible person I would be a horrible mother. Oh god, I am so glad I am not a mother, I would be a terrible one! I'm just so lonely all the time.

Forget it if they don't want to be friends with me. I have lots of things that could keep me busy. I could join a group, I have a lot of spare time. A group would be good, if I knew how to join one. I don't need friends. What I need is to learn to keep my mouth shut. Speak only when spoken to, and say only what is needed to say. I can't afford to hurt my marriage anymore then it is. It's 6:40pm, he hasn't called. Is he going to come home? Or has he found someone better and left me for her? Leaving me with all the bills.

I wish I was stupid. I wish I was a stupid blond girl who was married to a man that took care of everything for her.

Why do people misunderstand me? Why don't they want to get to know me? Why does it always seem to backfire on me when I try and make friends with them? It's 6:50pm, he still hasn't called. I want him to come home, be with me. I promise to be in the mood when he does, or at least pretend I am.

Saturday, April 16th, 1988

I'm tired of it! I'm just fed up and sick of all the fighting everywhere. I'm just going to sit here and wait for JP to leave me. Really there isn't much more I can do! I love him so much, but this treatment is tearing me up. I know I love him, if I didn't our fights wouldn't hurt so much. Everyone has called me Bitch or told me I am just rude when I say good morning to them. I'm beginning to believe them. I really can't argue with them, I can't remember being rude to them or mean, but they really seem to be mad at me. I never used to be like this before, I never used to get into arguments ever. Unless it was with Jennifer, but aren't we supposed to fight with our sisters? I don't think they realized just how much they hurt me when they said those things to me. I don't have the foggiest idea how I can change to make it better. I don't want to hurt anyone else like this, but how do I make sure I don't do this thing I did to someone else?

I'm not sure about my future. I'm just going to take it day by day right now. My cat and me! That's all I have. If he wants to leave me, I don't know what I would do. I would have to move that's for sure. I can't afford this place on my own. I'm scared to talk to him, if I say the wrong thing I'm scared he will get mad. He likes to hit me when he gets mad. Most of all I'm scared to do something that will make him leave me.

When we first got together I used to go out all the time and visit with my friends. He would just sit at home. I felt so horrible that he was home alone so I stopped going out. All my friends are now off with other friends and what do you know, JP now starts going out, now that I'm home all the time. What is the balance? Aren't I supposed to be home, making a home for us? Aren't I supposed to find this fulfilling and be happy about it?

I seriously wish I knew who to call when I needed help! I can't even afford to have a break down. I'm sure even that costs money. Money I just don't have, I'm still paying off credit cards I don't even have use of!

Chapter 7 - It Starts

2009-05-12T14:48:00.000-07:00

Thursday, February 4th, 1988

I am running as fast as I can. The ground is covered in a foggy mist, hovering, keeping me from seeing my feet. I am lost and running trying to get home in the bitter coldness that is surrounding me. There are several door's in front of me and I frantically search for the one my key fits into. After trying several doors I finally come to the one that my key fits into. I am turning the knob, my heart pounding and as the door starts to open I stop. Fear overtakes me and I start to back up slowly. That is when it happens. A hand comes out of the door, just the hand, grabs me around the neck and pulls me into the house. I am kicking and screaming. People are now outside watching me. Laughing at me. I am inside, fighting to get free when the door slams shut!

I awake in a panic barely able to breath. Laying in bed, I glance at the clock. It is 4:42 am. Freezing, I reach for the covers and realize they have once again been taken by JP. I reach down and pull the small lap blanket that I have at my side of the bed and gently cover myself with the blanket. Careful not to wake up JP. I lay in bed, my toes frozen still uncovered, thinking of the dream I just had and wonder why. I haven't had such horrible nightmares since I was a small child.

Sunday, March 14th, 1988

"Hey lets go to the mall?" I ask as JP sits on the couch.

"Na," He grunts.

I plop myself down next to him. Not touching him but watching him. "Wanna go to the movies?"

"And see what?" He asks.

I know he will not see a 'chick flick', he likes the movies were people are killed in the first 2 minutes of the movie. "You chose! What ever movie you want."

"Na" He grunts again.

I'm frustrated. "I wanna do something." I whine

"Then clean the fucking house it's a mess!" He replies never taking his eyes off the television. The cars racing around in a circle I don't understand why someone would watch car's racing around a track.

"And what are you going to do?" I ask. Knowing fully well that he is going to sit around all day watching racing then go over to Ron's house and get stoned and drink himself into a stoned and drunken stupor then come home and want sex. He's getting a little predictable and we haven't even been married a year.

"Damit! You know I work hard all week! I just want to relax" He says as he turns in my direction. His eyes glaring at me.

"And I haven't? Worked all week at work and at home? I'm tired also and I wanna spend time with my husband." I said it as sweet as I could. Even if he wanted to go now, I know I wouldn't want to be around him for the rest of the day. He will now be in a really foul mood, all at my expense.

"poo" He waves his hand in the air as if dismissing me. "You do what you want."

"So then who will clean the house?" I might as well continue and make my point now.

"I have no problem with cleaning the house." He says, nearly blowing me over.

"Really? Well fool me, cause you never do it. I've never seen you clean the bathroom!"

His voice raises, "Fuck you! You want me to do it, just leave it, I'll do it when I have time!"

I stand off to the side of him watching him sitting there, watching cars drive around in a circle. I have no idea what he sees in this 'sport' as he calls it, but I know he won't 'have' time to clean the bathroom let alone just the toilet. He never does. Last time he told me to 'leave it' I did. 2 months later, totally disgusted I cleaned the toilet that was black inside. How he could sit on it let alone stand and pee as he watched it was beyond me. In fact, how can a man, that stands and pees into a toilet tell you he didn't notice 'it' was dirty? Don't you look at it everyday. I at least can say I was staring at the wall on the opposite side of the toilet.

I am sad and angery all at once. I had big plans for us. But I can't live here like this. Sometimes I think about disappearing and never coming back. I wonder if I would be missed. I would of course tell my parents where I went. But I wouldn't tell JP. I would move away and start a new life. Make friends with a whole new crowd and learn to be truly happy again. I am again dreaming. I'm tired of JP telling me I don't have any friends. My Goodness, how come I was always busy when I was single? Always had somewhere to go and something to do, and why do I spend all my time at work writing letters to my friends? JP pisses me off for what he says, I stay home to do his share of the work cause he never does it. If he wants me to do all the housework then he needs to make enough money and stop spending money like its water so I can just stay home.

All this anger and all I wanted was to spend a few hours with my husband. Is it not to much to ask for my husband to want to be with me or talk to me? The only conversation we ever have is me pulling information out of him. Sometimes I feel like I intentionally start a fight just so I can have someone to talk to.

Tuesday, April 12th, 1988

The woman downstairs from us, Dee Dee, is becoming a real pain. She has complained on us several times for running our dishwasher after 7pm and walking loudly. Does she even understand that when she slams her garage door every nite when she comes home at 2 in the morning she wakes us up? The door is directly under our bedroom. I should be used to the door slamming by now, but I jump each time I hear it. JP gets angry first at her for slamming it and waking him up, and then at me for jumping and startling him.

Last weekend she was playing her music very loud and I walked down to ask her to turn it down. She wouldn't open her door. The next day JP comes up here and tells me the woman down stairs thinks I'm a maniac. "Did you tell her that you were the one upset with her music? That the only reason I went down there was because you wanted her to turn it down?" I knew he didn't. JP walked away.

It's like this all the time. JP complains constantly about something and when I finally go and try to get it changed, so he will shut up and let it go, I am the one that is considered to be rude or mean. Yet, if I leave it and don't try and take care of what he is upset about, it gets intolerable in this house. I just can't seem to ever win. I'm just tired. No one seems to understand me. I mean I honestly try to get along with people. I talk so much I know they get sick of me.

I just need someone to talk to, or hold me. I don't think he cares for me as much, I know JP is upset with me. He always take me the wrong way? He says I'm always mean, rude or impolite to him when I was just trying to help him.

I truly believe its the Walloon/American differences. If we both were raised with the same background, we would probably get along with each other really well.

My nightmares are becoming worse. I rarely sleep anymore. I seem to always be dreaming about how I screwed up my life by getting married to this man.

Chapter 6 - Money Isn't Everything - Or Is It?

2009-05-12T11:49:00.000-07:00

Monday, November 16th, 1987

It's 5:23pm as I drive into the apartment complex. My 914 black Porsche sporting its nice red 'For-Sale' sign in the small back window. We bought a new car just a week ago. JP took it to work today, and I am left with the task of trying to sell my car. I love this car, the feeling of driving it, whipping in and out of parking lots and cruise through Pacheco Pass when I visit my family in Fresno. JP says he is tired of fixing it all the time. I'm mixed, it would be nice not to have to worry about my car getting me to and from work, but I like my Porsche, even if it is called a 'poor man's Porsche'. I park it in the first available stall and head to the mailboxes. My hands full, I struggle to pull out our mail, there again is a ton. I add it to my load and head upstairs. It's time to pay the bills. I know I am late, I need to start paying them on time. So today, before JP gets home, I will do my best effort at getting caught up!

We finally sold the celica for $1,700.00. They bought it even after we told them we didn't know what the noise it was making was. I was surprised and very happy! It takes a lot of weight off my shoulders. However, today the buyer called and told me the transmission was shot and they wanted us to fix it. I think you could have heard my heart hit the floor. I called JP at work and told him about it. I mean they purchased the car that way. Full disclosure, but then I do work with the buyer. I just want to give them back the money and take the car back. I'm just going to leave it up to JP, he says he might be able to fix it. I know nothing about cars. Well, JP knows more that's for sure.

The money from the sale was nice however, It's going to help us get even further out of debt. Especially since we went and bought a new TV over the weekend. JP didn't like watching my old black and white 13 inch TV I bought from Gemco. Who could blame him, but really, it was paid for and all ours. In all honesty, I paid 15 dollars for it during their whole going out of business sale a few years back. The new one he picked out is so huge it barely fit in the entertainment center. It came with a remote, so no more getting up to change the channels. I wonder if that's really a good thing.

So now, I just have my car to sell and we can get out of major debt.

I throw the mail on the dining room table and kick off my shoes as I walk to put my lunch bag away in the kitchen. It's a mess as usual. But, it's bill time. I have to get that under control. I grab a soda from the fridge and sit myself down at the table. Wouldn't it be nice if Jon Paul was next to me, if we shared this monthly experience? Each taking turns writing out the checks and sticking the postage on the envelopes. Walking hand in hand to the mail box to mail away our monthly salary.

I know I am dreaming. It would be asking to much for him to sit down with me to help with this. I would be satisfied if he would stop using the ATM machine on a daily basis. It amazes me how little he claims to know about American finances but yet he has mastered the ATM machine better then any other American I know. Now, if he could only realize that the 'available balance' that is on the receipt is not how much that is truly in our account!

I pull out all the mail and add it to today's pile. Bill by bill I open up all the envelopes as I start to pile them up. Visa, Nordstrom's, Mastercard, American Express, Macy's... Macy's? When did that one come? Chevron, Chevron?? My eye's are trying to register and it hits me! My head hits the table cushioned by the stack of credit card bills on the table. It doesn't hurt at all. He is again applying for more credit! I sit for a moment, fighting back the tears, then holding back my anger and tell my self 'just breathe! Sammy, Just breathe. In and out. In and out.' The overwhelming feeling of debt is incredibly difficult to handle. My chest is tight and my breathing laboring, my stomach is turning over and I feel as if I am going to throw up. 'Breathe Sammy... Breath!!' is all my brain can relay. I am waving my right hand in front of me as if to fan away the tears that are flowing freely from my eyes. I am gasping for what little air I can get inside of my lungs and wonder if this is what my sister's asthma attacks feel like?

My body starts to rock itself back and forth, it is a motion I find myself doing often lately. It is the same motion my mother would do for me when I was hurt or upset. She would lovingly pull me up into her wooden rocking chair and we would rock back and forth all the while she would be caressing my long hair and whispering 'sshhhh, it's ok sweetie, your ok'. I would lay in her arms, press my ear onto her chest and listen to her voice vibrate through her chest. The thought is comforting and I feel myself calming down as my body rocking is slowing.

After several minutes, my head still down, eyes closed, my mind whirling, an overwhelming determination flows over me. I want to be debt free! I'm the one that pays the bills and every month I have to juggle which bills to pay and which to hold over. I'm tired of it. I hear my father telling me "Don't owe anyone money. Always pay your bills." I raise my head and count the credit card bills. 13 credit cards. I look in my wallet and count the ones I have, 5. I look over the balances of the bills and realize, just when he max's one out, he appears to be applying for another.

At this rate I will be in debt for the rest of my life! Does he not understand how this country works. We are free here to do what we want, but we must pay back all our debt. They don't hand you money for free! Then it hits me! I take a piece of paper and write all the credit cards and balances on them. I list them in order from the highest balance to the lowest. At the top of the paper I put the 1,700 figure from the sale of the celica. I add of all the minimum payments, subtract it from the 1700 and with the amount we have left, I pick a card with a balance I can pay off. I pick up the phone and call JP at work. "JP?"

"Ya, what's up?"

I play dumb, "Do you have a Capwell card?"

"Ya, why?" He asks as if he was just busted. I wonder 'who does he think it is that writes these monthly checks?'.

"Well they just called and told us we were above our limit and they are going to close the account. We have to stop using it." I continue. "They want us to send it back to them."

"OK"

"So will you bring it home with you so I can send it in with the payment like they're asking us to do?" I lied further.

"Sure." He hung up before I could ask him when he was coming home.

I put a star near the Capwell card on my list. It's 1 of 13! As I pay the rest of the bills I realize I am able to pay another credit card off and make a note to call him in 1-2 weeks and let him know that card was also cancelled. I of course have no idea why. In a way, I feel a ting of guilt for lying. I look at the stack of bills to mail off and It fades me quickly. I have plans. I want to go to Belgium and I want a child. I want to be debt free!

I map out our average monthly salary with what we currently owe. If I can get him to stop taking money out of the ATM machine and stop charging on the cards. We may just be debt free by January. Here I am a mere 20 years old totally in debt and I can't help but smile, he believed me!

Thank you Mom and Dad for those acting lessons you sent me to. Little did you know what good use I would put them to.

Night

Dinner is ready and I can hear JP walking in the door. I get his meal served up by the time he walks in the door. He walks in kisses me as he passes and sits to eat. "What did you do all day the house is a mess?"

"I was paying bills. I'll get to the house." I pause for effect. "Oh that reminds me honey, do you have the Capwell card?"

He grunts, fishes it out of his wallet and flops it down on the table. "I don't even use that thing"

"Well, there a little upset we're over our limit. They wanted it back." I fish through my purse, find the envelope with the bill in it and make a point of exaggerating my putting it in the envelope. Sealing it up and putting it back in my purse. "I'll mail it tomorrow." Tomorrow when I get to work, I will unseal the envelope and cut up the card.

JP doesn't talk anymore about the bills. He doesn't tell me there will be more credit card statements on the way. He sits in front of me as we eat our dinner. For once we aren't fighting. He is in a good mood. I vow in silence we will be debt free even if I have to lie to him about it.

Tuesday, November 17th, 1987

"Whats for dinner?" JP asks as he walks into the kitchen.

"Hmm, your favorite!" I exclaim.

He stops and looks at the pan. I am pulling the fries out of the oven and putting his steak on his plate. "There's only 1?" He asks as he sees I have only made one steak.

"Yep, just for you!" I tell him as I hand him the plate. I take the lid off the pot on the back burner and stir the noddles that are in the boiling water. "I'm making myself something different." I have taken to making him what he wants to eat as much as possible. Since steaks are expensive, I settle for Kraft Mac-n-Cheese, knowing he will be able to have another steak sooner.

JP grabs a fork and steak knife and sits down at the table. Without a second thought he starts cutting his steak and eating his fries. I look at him for a brief moment. Realizing I am starring at him and quickly turn and focus on my dinner that is near ready. 'He didn't even ask if I wanted him to wait for my dinner'. By the time I get the butter and milk mixed into the noodles and cheese he is done. He gets up and puts his plate in the sink and walks over to the TV, where I know he will be the remainder of the night. I missed my chance to have dinner with my husband.

I sit at the table with my bowl of mac-n-cheese. I can't help but think about how much I really hate mac-n-cheese and how rude it was to just eat your dinner and not even consider waiting for me. I guess I can't blame JP, he probably didn't realize it. I look at him in the living room, watching TV as I sit and eat my dinner. I love him. I truly love him. I would do anything for this mystery man, if he would just tell me what it is he wants.

I finish my dinner and head over to Anna's house, with the hopes she has made some awesome cookies, like she always does. I know I'm leaving JP at home, but from experience he will either sit on the couch or head over to Ron's house to get stoned. I'm going to bet he probably doesn't even notice I am gone. Besides, I am looking forward to the one on one female conversation.

Saturday, November 21st, 1987 Evening

This is my first full day of coat check. I am sitting in a closet, in charge of watching 18 furry coats at the La Rinconada Country Club. It really is a tough job, but someone has to do it! Not to mention, I get paid to do this! I'm sitting here all my myself and find it is peaceful, relaxing and very comforting. I count my tips as the night goes on, each dollar is one dollar closer to being debt free!

There is a light in here just above me, that flickers terribly. I'm guessing it wants to go out. I try to tell it that I need it to keep working. Willing it to stay on! It just flickers on a continuous basis, giving me a headache, but nothing I can't handle.

I was able to pay off 2 of JP's tickets. They only cost 152.00, much better then the 500.00 I thought it would be. I can't begin to tell you how much I love my life at this moment, everything is right in place. I keep waiting for something to happen. I guess that’s life though. I'm in love with Jon Paul. I don’t want to loose him. He says he’ll never leave me, but some day's I feel he will. That's me, a worry wart all the way, and a little nit picky. I'm working on the last.

We talked about having a baby. JP actually was open to it. I thought since he already had a child in Belgium that he wouldn't want another one. But he told me we could probably start trying next summer. It's exciting known that I have something to look forward to, a goal to get all our bills paid off by then for sure.

I am excited. Tomorrow my sister comes to town. JP likes her a lot so we are planning to meet up with her in Union City!

Monday, November 23rd, 1987

Night

We got into a car accident on our way to our friends house. Our brand new Isuzu Impulse is totalled! Wrecked beyond belief and I haven't even gotten the payment coupon book yet.

I was sitting at a stop light and a car behind us slammed right into the back of me. JP was in the passenger seat, thank goodness he is OK. Our car was slammed into the car in front of it and that car slammed into the car in front of it. So we have front and rear damage. JP says we will be lucky if they don't total the car. Thank goodness I insisted on going and getting insurance the day we bought it.

JP was awesome, he took care of everything and made sure I was OK and helped everyone else with their vehicles. I have a headache and my neck hurts really bad, but I'm not complaining, it's not that bad. I am just so tired now I just want to go home and go to sleep.

Saturday, November 28th, 1987

JP called Zacharie today to wish him happy birthday. Apparently he was polite and everything. He was having his birthday party with 11 of his friends. JP doesn't talk much about his son, and I have stopped asking since it usually ends up in a fight. I just wish Zboy would come and visit us sometime. That would be awesome to actually get to meet his son and I just know JP would be so happy with that.

We could be a complete family then. No more fighting, just lots of loving! I can't wait to have a baby and start our family. I would never leave JP like his ex-wife left him. NEVER!

Sometimes I wish I could give this journal to JP and let him read this maybe then he would know how much I love him and that I'm always going to be here for him.

Saturday, December 5th, 1987

I had a busy week and it doesn't seem to be getting any better anytime soon. Yesterday, after work, I went and put a deposit down on a guitar I bought for JP for Christmas. I think he will really like it, or i hope he will. He better, it was $300.00. It was the first time I ever put something on law away. I got home with enough time to change and leave for coat checking. I found a joint in JP's jacket. We fought again about his pot smoking. You don't have to do drugs to have a good time. But he just doesn't seem to understand that. I left for work and when I came home he was already asleep.

Tonight I am working coat checking again at the country club. I am hoping to make a lot of money. Right now, I have 80 coats that I am in charge of watching. If each person just gives me 1 dollar that would be 80.00! I would then only owe 220! That's asking for a little much. Not everyone tips me when they pick up their coats. The money I made yesterday I used for grocery shopping today before I came in to work. Tomorrow I have to drive to Visalia and be back in enough time to get some sleep and work on Monday.

What I wouldn't give to just have one day to sit and do nothing. But that never happens, I just need to stop dreaming about it.

Monday, December 7th, 1987

Work is hard when you are tired. I was able to pull off answering all the phones and being nice without anyone knowing I was exhausted. I got back from Visalia around 11:30 pm, threw myself into bed only to wake up 6 hours later to start my day. It's nice though having my hair cut and visiting with my family and friends. While the drive is long both ways for one day, the sound of the stereo tuned to my music and space in the car to myself is priceless.

Today is bill paying day. I am determined to pay off at least one more bill. JP doesn't even know what's hitting him. I wonder what he thinks is really going on with our bills and credit? I don't care anymore. He left it to me to handle so I am handling it. I have them all piled up on the table and start off with listing them out. This month my goal is to cancel the Nordstrom card, it is again a card that only he has. With it being December I don't feel comfortable paying off to much. We do need money for presents.

I write all the checks, placing them in there envelopes, addressed and stamped and waiting. JP isn't home yet so I call his work. My eyes closed, listening to the phone ring, I shake my whole body as if preparing myself for my acting gig.

"Hello" His boss answer's. It's my cue.

I quiver my voice slightly as if I am upset "Hello, is John Paul there?"

"Ya, hang on." I hear him put down the phone and call for JP in the background to come to the phone."

"Oui?"

{action} "JP I just got a call from Nordstrom's!"

"Ya? What they want?"

"They say we have to turn in our cards!" I sniff as if I had been crying. Gulping a little over the phone.

"Ya? I thought that would happen. They froze it few months ago when I tried to use it I thought if I didn't use it it would be good for awhile." He paused.

I help my breath. He tried using it a few months ago? Who does he think pays the bill even if your not using it? I look at the table with the envelope sitting on it that holds the payoff payment in it. "They want their cards back." Sniff.

"Fuck em, they can have em!"

I was smiling full force. Shook my head, returned to character to finish the call. "I just don't like this" I sniff and pretend as if I am crying.

"Fuck em. I bring the card back and we forget about em." He says. "I gotta go back to work." He hangs up.

I place the phone back on the cradle. Facing the phone and flalling my arms out in front of me take the largest bow in honor of my performance. The audience would have given me a standing ovation.

Chapter 5 - The Killing Of Samantha

2009-04-21T16:03:00.001-07:00

Saturday, November 7th, 1987

I have the house to myself when I get back from grocery shopping. I'm never left a note, as to where they might be or be coming home. But I don't have to worry about dinner. I am sure Sabine will wait on JP as always. I sit at the dining room table staring at the bank building when JP walks in the door. He is alone. I try to assess his mood as he throws his keys on the counter. "What's for dinner?" He asks.

"I don't know. Sabine isn't here -" He interupts me.

"They're gone." He quips at me.

I am thrown through a loop. "What do you mean 'they're gone?'" I ask.

"You don't understand English now?" His accent is horribly strong with all the french he has been speaking lately. "They gone. Left! Didn't like you! Like no body like's you!"

My brain is whirling a mile a minute now. I look down the hall and notice their suitcases aren't in the guest room. "Don't be so mean!" I say in a snotty voice. "No one told me they were leaving" I feel like I'm in a daze, trying to gain my stance. An hour ago I was the invisible woman living in this house. What do I do now?

"Make my dinner, bitch!" He orders like he is a king.

"Stop talking to me like that!" I say in a demanding voice. Calming down, "It hurts me when you call me bad words." I'm hoping in a moment of love he will realize what he is doing and stop. I am wrong.

He get's up to my face and starring at me, wave's me off saying "Why do you think I call you those names, bitch?" He walks to the living room sits on the couch and orders me. "Bitch, make my dinner, bitch!"

I grab my purse and fish inside for my keys, I am done. "No! Make it yourself. I'm outta here!" I call out as I head to the door. I am determined, I am leaving.

I am met by Jon Paul, 3 feet from the door. His body slams me against the coat closet doors, his face 1 inch from mine, his eyes now black. "Who the fuck you are?" He yells at me. His breath smells of stahl nictoine as his hands are pushing my shoulders into the wooden doors. "Who the fuck you are?" He screams again.

I am to scared to speak. Words cease to come to my mind. I stand motionless as he is hovering over me.

"That's what I thought!" He yells into my face. "You're nothing! You're lucky I put up with your shit." He pushes me to the ground. Still standing over me, yelling in his Waloon accent. "Look at you! You think a man wants to marry someone like this? You pathetic, sorry bitch. Your fucking lucky I'm taking care of you. Your own family doesn't like you!"

He reaches down and grabs for the keys I am holding in my hand. I hold on tight to them. Curled up in a ball on the floor he pushes my right shoulder down as he grabs for the keys in my left hand and he yanks. I let out a yelp. He bends down close to my ear. Still holding my shoulder "your not fucking leaving me bitch!" he says. "You keep this shit up and I will kill you!" He throws my keys across the room. I try to listen to where they land, as he turns to walk away he kicks my foot.

I am left in the hallway. Close to freedom but with no place to go or way of living. I am far from any friend or parent. Jon Paul goes to the couch sit's down and looks at me "Get out of my site bitch." I pull myself up and walk into the guest room.

I sit on the edge of the bed starring at the wall. I rock myself back and forth trying to breath. The tears are flowing, I can't stop them. I can't stop from shaking either. What have I done? I think about calling the police, but why would they help me. I took him back the first time he did this. Would the same officers show up? or would they be different ones? Would they know about me? Would they even believe me about what just happened? I race through my brain looking for idea's of what to do and nothing comes. I have done this to myself. This is my doing!

I slide off the end of the bed to the floor. I am silent crying, again using my shirt as my tissue. For the first time, I have no idea's.

Monday, November 9th 1987

In the midst of saving my marriage I finally found out what he wants. A dummy girl! Not to dumb. One that keeps the house super clean. Cooks his dinner and serve's him. One not to speek until spoken too. Unless, to make him more comfortable, or to sit next to him and be there for him (but not touch him).

He doesn’t want to be bothered by unimportant stuff. I am not to speak in public, nor in private. I am not to say anything what so ever that might anger him. He is a volcano about to erupt. I am to be ready to leave at the blink of an eye for any endeavor of his choosing. With no question's ever asked.

Yesterday we went to Oakland to see Jude. I was a good girl. I didn't speak. I followed the rules. I was nice to Jude and JP thought I was angry with him. 'Not angry honey, just scared for my life' I thought. Sometimes its hard to sit there and have him make fun of me when I can't fight back. What is supposed to happen to me now? I am used to taking care of myself, now I can't make a move without his approval.

I have to go pee. I wonder when he will let me do that?

Wednesday, November 11th, 1987

I don’t think people understand what it really takes to be married to a Belgium man. A lot of patients, that's for sure.

I was thinking the other day about publishing these books but how could I publish my married life?

Friday, November 13th, 1987

I have been trying awfully hard to do what JP boy wants. Sometimes I forget and I open my mouth. It is important for me for my marriage to work. I’d like to have a family someday.

Sunday November 15th, 1987

We had sex. It seems to be the only time I can have anyone hug me. I miss the hugs my mother would give me for no reason other then she was passing me in the hall. JP got up and went to Rons house to smoke pot. Why does it disturb me when he does that? You don't have to do drugs to have fun in life! I have tried to tell him, but I am the powerless one. He is the one that wears the pants in this family.

If he would only put them on.

I raised my voice this evening. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw his hand twitch, as if he wanted to hit me. I feel like a target. Him being the loaded gun. Me the paper person dangling in front of him. The gun goes off and I die. That scares me. You know, one minute everything is fine, the next word I say - I'm dead. But let’s face the facts, I’m a crazy woman whom loves her husband. Consider it a task if I die from natural causes. I win. If not I lose.

Good morals win a game Sammy!

Chapter 4 - Four Is A Crowd In Any Language!

2009-04-21T13:33:00.001-07:00

Monday, November 2ND, 1987

JP has been nicer lately. He went out for a bike ride with Christophe yesterday. He has fun when he does that. We recently came into money. $4,200.00 for damages to my car, that were caused from the construction work on the road just outside our apartment. JP did the repairs on my car himself so we saved a lot of that money. I’d like to pay my car off and put the rest in a savings account. That would take a lot off my shoulder's. If we have no car payment we'd have 146.12 a month less to pay, maybe we could start to save for a new car.

JP has moved Christophe and Sabine in. They are living in our spare room. They speak French and very little English. In fact, the only time they speak English is when they are asking me for something. JP met them through a friend, they are trying to start a crepe restaurant here in the United States. So far they have ran into trouble with immigration. They came over on travel visa's and are having trouble getting work visa's. They can't open a restaurant without the proper visa's and our government wants to send them back to France. In a way it doesn't make sense, they have the money, they want no hand-outs from our government, but they are being sent back home. I don't understand.

JP said they could stay with us, without asking me. I came home from work last week and they were already moved in. My items from the main bathroom were dumped on the counter in our master bathroom. My kitchen was reorganized and when I walked in the door Christophe was cooking dinner for everyone. For once JP was home!!

Part of me was elated! I would have more time with JP at home! But, so far, the time he is at home it utterly lonely. They speak only in french and only translate when I ask what they are talking about. Sabine and Christophe try to tell me in English, but JP just tells me I won't understand it, or it can't be translated into English. "There is no way of saying it in English!" I sit like a 'good' wife on the couch next to JP, wishing he would reach out and hold me like Christophe does to Sabine. He never does. I asked him to move his arm and nestled myself down into the crook of his shoulder, it felt good, like I was protected and being loved. It lasted 5 minutes, he told me to move, his arm was falling asleep.

We sit down to eat dinner. Crepe's! They looked delicious and for once I was relieved I didn't have to worry about what to cook. This had to be a win-win situation. Or so I would think. We're all sitting at the dining room table. The food displayed out in the pots they were cook on (my mother would have put them on serving dishes) everyone starts to serve themselves. I reached over putting food on my plate, I was starving. JP is starring at me, I stop "What?" I ask immediately thinking I forgot something.

"You eat to much. That's why your so fat." He says.

Embarrassment wafts over my cheekbones. "I'm hungry, what am I supposed to do?" My 5'2 1/4 133 pound frame did have to much weight on it. I know JP is unhappy with my weight, he tells me whenever he can. But, here? in front of the guests or new roommates?

"You should eat like Sabine. You'd look good with her body!" He said as he pointed toward her plate.

Sabine was tall, very thin and her curly black hair fell perfectly on her very thin shoulders. I looked at her plate that was filled with vegetable's and wondered how she could live without trying her husband's cooking. Without taking a bite of what was on my plate, I stood up from the table, picked up the plate and walked over to the sink. I carefully brushed off the food and quietly put the dish in the sink. I turned toward the table, without looking at them said, "enjoy your dinner!" and walked to the bedroom. It wasn't the first time I would skip dinner and it wouldn't be the last. I start to silent cry - tears rolling down my face as I stand in front of the mirror. My large football shoulders, stomach that poofs out now matter how many sit-ups I do and my thighs rub together no matter how much I loose. He is right, I am fat and ugly! My hunger is gone, I am now sick to my stomach. I lay on the bed, Chrissy curls her body in a ball by my shoulders and starts to purr. I lay petting her and crying into her fur.

Tuesday, November 3rd, 1987

5:30 AM Wake up, Shower/Get Ready
7:15 AM Leave for work
8:00 AM Work
5:00 PM Go home
5:30 PM Get home, pick up the house, cook dinner, clean up
8:00 PM Rest for an hour
9:00 PM Go to bed

I should just give up! I wish I was Sabine. She is beautiful, tan, skinny and she makes me wish I was her. I'm not the jealous type, but with her I get furious! It feels like she is coming between JP and I. This whole thing is just so stupid. I come home I’m lucky if he asks me how my day is. They speak French to each other only and I am left out. They talk constantly to each other, but JP won't even talk to me! I spend all my spare time trying to learn French. When I try to practice what I have learned JP just laughs at me. Says I butcher his language, or asks me to repeat it over and over and laughs with his friends saying he doesn't know what language I am speaking. But its not french!

He doesn't understand how difficult the language is for me! I was born Tongue Tied. Speaking English was a challenge in itself for me. My brain is saying the words correctly but by the time the words get to my mouth they don't come out the same way. My parent's spent years taking me to speech therapy, each session was practicing 'R' and the 'ing' words. In fact, every time I said Bird to the therapist it would come out as bored. But when I said Bored, it came out bird. So at the age of 7 I made my first mental note to switch those 2 words. From that point on whenever I said Bored - I was really saying bird. I just had to remember to spell them correctly when they were on a spelling test.

Now, as I sit here in front of the French language books and realize I am doomed. The whole language is full of the letter 'R'! I have no support and again people are laughing at me for the way I pronounce words!

I’m sick of always doing things on my own. I need help! I need a husband, the husband I thought I was marrying. He works all week and says he works on Saturday. He is off on Sunday and leaves me saying he deserves time to play. Why doesn't he want to play with me? It was all I could do to get him to go shopping for his son's birthday present. "I can't I’m busy" was his first excuse, his second "I going to get my hair appointment." I signed his name to the card and sent it off. I'm getting good at signing his name!

I need to keep myself busy. I could go drive to Jennifer's for lunch or dinner. Or call Aunt Hazel or Mom and if they aren't busy have lunch with them. Start shopping for Christmas. Go to San Francisco for the day looking for bargains in the clothing district. Maybe find something nice at the Gunne Sak outlet. Maybe go to Mervyn's or Macy's and then a movie. My gosh the guy is to busy for me, that’s okay, I just have to keep myself busy also. I could get a book and go to a park and read it, or shop for a stationary bike that fits me and I could get exercise. Visit my grandfather in Castro Valley. I need to fill up my weekends. I should call the Country Club soon and see if they have extra work. The money would do us well and be a productive thing to do.

My God this life has a lot of places to go in it. Some day's I'll find something to do and some day's I will be bored (bird). I’m not married. I just happen to have roommates, one of which I am having sexual relations with him at times. They speak French, they don't understand English very well. Our communication is horrid when it comes to talking to me. This is it! I'm tired of trying to move in this life thinking about everyone else's feelings but my own. Samantha, your on your own! Plan your weekends for fun!

Sometimes I feel our marriage would be perfect if we would not live with anyone else.

Thursday, November 5th, 1987

JP did it again. He got another ticket. This time for driving the wrong way on a one way street! They also said his license was suspended in July and they never notified us. There goes the money I was trying to save. The thought of a family or a house. I just can't seem to catch a break!

I want the 'friends' of ours to leave. They are driving me nuts. JP sits on the couch and has Sabine wait on him hand and foot. She does all the cooking and cleaning for him. She brings him his dinner right to where he is. He raves about her constantly. I can't compete! It feels like I'm not even here most of the time. I don’t talk much anymore, no one listens when I do. So I just give up. I didn't dream of having this life when I was little. I wanted a family. The dream every girl has.

What I want:
I want my husband - That wants to be with me!
2 new cars - Paid for.
A home
A child or two - One Girl!
A comfortable life - Out of debt!
To visit Belgium.

How do I get this?

Chapter 3 - Fighting Back!

2009-04-21T13:19:00.001-07:00

Monday, October 5th, 1987

Jon Paul thinks I’m unhappy over money and he's all wrong. Money just makes life harder. I just want to know how he really feels about me. God knows for all I know he could have come here, married me and divorced me when he’s a citizen. Then bring his first wife and kid over here. Except for the fact she just got married. Maybe she got tired of waiting.. See my immagination is just grand!

The woman next door just told me she is pregnant again. Third child! She looked so happy. I bet she's not lonely. She doesn't eat dinner alone at night. She doesn't sit around waiting for her husband to come home just so she could talk to someone other then her cat Chrissy. I don't think she even has a cat.

Sometimes I wonder if having a child would bring us closer together? I wouldn't be so lonely all the time, thats for sure. I could love someone, be loved!

Sunday, October 25Th, 1987

The time has changed. It looks awfully weird, like the darkness is hovering over the apartment. I keep hoping it will mask my loneliness! But, lonliness is all I seem to be feeling lately. I am determined that today is different. JP left with Jude today. Saying he will be back later I decided to spend the day cleaning the apartment perfectly! There is no dust or garbage anywhere! Dinner is in the oven staying warm and I am sure he will love it!

He looks so happy when he walks in the door. My hopes grow high that tonight will be a good night. He throws his keys on the counter and sits at the table opening yesterdays mail. "There's something there I don't understand, from a bank." I tell him.

"Ya, I helped Jude get a loan."

I stop in my tracks. I already have trouble paying the rent and the many credit cards that he has opened. I don't trust Jude to make a payment on anything, let a lone one we have signed for. "You cosigned for a loan for him?" I try hard to keep my tone in line and mask the suprise and anger over my face.

"Ya, he asked me too."

"You didn't ask me-" I stopped in mid sentance. I know better. JP pushes his chair back as he stands up.

"I don't need to ask you to help my friend get a loan."

He is in front of me now. We are standing in the kitchen and I feel it, I am done, fed up! "Yes, you do! We are still married. If he doesn't pay we're responsible for that loan. You should have asked-" My voice raised to near yelling and I am shaking.

"Fuck you," He screams back at me "I'm a grown man, I don't need a mother to tell me what I can do. Jude is like a brother to me, he'll pay."

"Who am I?" I screamed back. He stands there starring at me. "Who am I?"

He turns to leave toward the bedroom and I step in his way. "I'm your wife!" I scream at him as I point to my chest.

His eyes turn black, his face expressionless. He grabs my shoulders and pushes me against the side of the creme colored refridgerater. "Fuck you Bitch!" My eyes wince and I fill with anger.

"Fuck you!" I scream back. I know I am wrong. I know I won't win, but something inside of me can not stop what I am doing. I stand against the refridgerator, my shoulders held against it and my face full of anger as I stare him down. He is still for a moment, then let's my shoulder's go, turns to grab his keys and slams the front door as he leaves the apartment!

"I am your wife!" I scream as the door slams behind him.

Monday, October 26th, 1987

JP lied to me! He told me we would only be responsible for 6 weeks. I called the bank today, on my break, and we are responsible for 1 year! 1 YEAR! The man went on to say that if Jude misses just 2 payments then it will ruin our credit. That would blow our chances for buying a house or a new car. Bull shit JP! You follow Jude like a puppy dog, you would do anything for him, but for me, your own wife, I get nothing! I sit here, wishing I could call him and tell him I know he lied to me, point it out like he does each time to me, but deep down inside I know that would be wrong. JP tells me I don't know what having a friend is like. Maybe he is right. I tried to get friends, but he tells me that all my friends just want to use me.

I feel like I'm circling! I can't talk to JP. I am lonely. I wish he would call me, send me flower's or something. I have so many thoughts in my head they are all getting confused and jumbled. I just want to forget everything, I can't handle this. I want to be able to love and trust him, yet, I feel so stupid right now. Does he still love me? If he doesn't please just tell me. I just want to be loved by someone other then a cat. The calls at work are slow, I pick up the phone and call JP's work. He comes to the phone and I quietly tell him "I know you lied to me, I called the bank. We are responsible for that loan for 1 year! Don't lie to me again or I swear I will leave!" I hang up. I have no idea were I’d go, if I was to leave. But, I can’t stay here and put up with this anymore. I’m like a spec of dust in a twilight of shadows, always searching for truth. No matter what I say nothing matters to him. I want to cry so bad just open up and let everything come out. I concentrate on work, and counting the minute's as they pass. I contemplate on calling the country club back and see if they have any openings for a coat check girl.

Chapter Two - I'm Not Giving Up!

2009-04-15T12:02:00.000-07:00

Friday, September 18Th 1987

This is the first full day of the new Samantha! It was clear tonight when he came home that he didn't want to hear about my troubles. He sat on the couch starring at the TV while I was trying to talk to him. I wanted him to just reach up and grab me and hug me. Instead, during a commercial he looked at me and said "What's your fucking problem? You know I don't want to hear it?" It was like he hit me across the face with his fist. My stomach turned cold and my eye's began to fill with tears. I got up quickly and walked down the hall into the bedroom. Where I stood at the window, starring outside. I swear sometimes I think all my troubles would just go away if he would just touch me. The only time he does is when he wants sex. Of course I am expected to perform on command! Is this normal? does everyone feel this way? What is wrong with me? Why do I seem to be fighting this so much?

I have no idea how this new me will be. I know though it must last the rest of my life. I cannot turn back. I wish I could talk to JP yet you heard him he doesn’t really want to hear that stuff. No one does. Come on Samantha don’t start! You are a grown up person. You should never talk to people about your thoughts. You know that they don’t want to hear anything you have to say.

I watch the stars moving, blinking, realizing they are airplanes in the night. I wonder where they are going. Do the woman in there have husband's that talk to them, or listen to them? I think the movies all lie. Why don't they make a movie about a real married couple. Where the man never listens to his wife and the wife works herself to the bone to keep the household together?

Even I know the answer to that one.

I wipe my tears that are rolling down my face on my shirt. I can't even afford tissue! Life stinks!

Saturday, September 19Th 1987

I bought some plants today. I think I got a real good deal! I got up to go to the farmers market today. I asked JP if he wanted to go. He just squirmed in bed and rolled over. Now, as I walk in the front door with plants in my hand he is sitting once again on the couch in the living room. He is watching racing. I know better then to disturb him. He has worked hard all week and deserves to rest. I do however, worry about JP. I mean he sits there like a bump on a log. I try hard to get him to go somewhere. He just says no, he’s bored. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't he always going to be bored if he doesn't get up and do something? I guess I shouldn't worry about it. I did marry him for better or worse.

My Birthday is next week. It will be the first birthday of mine since we met. I wonder what he will get me? I’m excited! Birthday's are just one day that you use to celebrate the 'special person'. I talked to JP about it. I think he was listening. I know we don't have a lot of money. I did tell him a card would be wonderful. He just grunted.

I put the plants on the patio, arranging them for both us inside and those outside to see how beautiful they are. Now, if I can just remember to water them.

Tomorrow we have to go to Oakland and visit with Jude. I don't really want to go. We only seem to visit with his friends. He says my friends only use me. I know I can't voice my opinion anymore but it hurts. The closer it gets the more fearful I am that I may say something that will get me in trouble. Yet, with this new me, maybe not. I feel good about myself, a little. Maybe this time I will be able to sit there and be a good wife. Not say anything and let them all have a good time.

Oh lets just be honest with ourselves. The only reason we go over to Judes house is to get stoned and play music. I am expected to sit there and smile and look pretty. I am not to talk and since I have never done pot, or smoked I should say, I find the whole occasion boring. I mean really, what is it with pot that makes people so happy to just sit on the couch and star at a guitar? Then start laughing about it? I'd rather eat my shoe's!

Night

I finally finished my chores. JP left about an hour ago to go to Ron's apartment and help fix Charles' car. It was right about the time I started the vacuum cleaner. I don't blame him. My great grandmother always told me that vacuum cleaners hurt men's hears. Maybe that's really true.

I sit all alone. Lonely. I walked over to Ron's house to see him. He wasn’t there. If they were fixing a car wouldn't they be outside where the car was? My temptation to knock on the door was let wild! I walked up to the door and I remembered, the new me! All of this work trying to be the good wife. I turned and walked away. I love him so much why wouldn't he be there? His not keeping in touch with me is just - I can't describe.

I turn and walk back to our apartment. The apartment that I should be sharing with my husband. He is rarely home and when he is he spends it in front of the Television. I again wonder how other women put up with this? Is this really what a marriage is all about? Walking up the stairs I hear my friend Stacey yelling at her boyfriend. You can hear Anthony yelling back at her to "Shut up Stacey!"

I realize my life is totally normal. With the exception that I can not seem to be happy! What is wrong with me that I can not seem to be happy?

Sunday September 20Th, 1987

I am tired. It is near midnight and I have to work the next day and we are still at Jude's house. JP has drank way to much and now I am scared. How do I tell him he is too drunk to drive? I don't!

We finally are leaving and I mention that I would love to drive for a change. "Bitch, you drive like and idiot!" He quips back at me.

I expected his words, but I'm scared. "I promise to drive good. Give me the chance?" I am pleading. Watching my words carefully so as not to tip him off that I know he shouldn't be driving.

He opens the drivers door, looks at me "Get in the fucking car before I leave you". He holds his hand out to Jude, who hands him the joint he is holding. JP draws it up to his lips, takes a large drag off of it and hands it back to Jude. Waves his 'salute' as he is still holding his breath and gets in the car.

My brain scrambles to weigh its options. I have no money for a taxi, I am 45 miles away from home, its dark, It's Oakland and I am a blond female! The engine to the car revs up and I race to get into the passenger seat. The tire squeals off as my door is shutting and I hurry to get my seat belt on. Pulling the belt tightly across my chest I hold on to it!

JP exhales, "Who the fuck you are?" His accent thick and his words slurring.

It is the sentence that I was praying he wouldn't say. It's the sentence that says I am stupid and I should have known better then to insinuate he was to drunk and stoned to drive. Let alone to say this in front of his friend. I am doomed. I am locked in a car going 85 miles an hour down 880 with a man that is stoned, drunk and determined to show me who is boss. I sit as still as I can, my face turned to the side window as I watch the stars in the sky.

"Who the fuck you are?" He screams again. Did he think I didn't hear him? I don't dare answer. He wants to fight and I am to tired. I will myself home. Please God, let me get home in one piece.

We can't afford for him to get stopped again. He already has a court date tomorrow for his other tickets. When is he ever going to learn? What will the officer say to me if they stop us, when they realize that I am sober and in the passenger seat? Would they let me whisper to them that I tried? Would they even believe me? Would they take me in also for letting him get behind the wheel like this? He is going 105 now, passing cars like they are standing still and swerving through all the lanes. Please, Someone please help me!

I can see JP turn to look towards me. "fuck you!" he says as he raises his right hand up and pushes my shoulder into the passenger door. I raise my hands up to my head as quickly as I can in hopes to protect it if he pushes me again. "fuck you, bitch" He yells at me again as he places his hand back on the steering wheel "fuck, you're not worth it."

I sit frozen with my hands up. Realizing he is done. His point has been received. I was wrong and should have never said anything. I broke rules #1, 2, 3, 8, 9 and 10 all in one moment. I put my hands on my shoulder, holding myself, as if I am cold. In reality I am shaking. I stare at the stars, willing the tears not to come. They are welled up in my eyes, one blink and they start to fall. I can't seem to get it right. I'm not giving up, I can get this right I know I can. My mother was married for years to my father. I can do this.

I wish I was on a star, looking down at this moment, like it was a bad dream. I will myself to forget, and concentrate on what I can do to be better. Tomorrow will be better. I turn my head as if to look behind the passengers door and wipe my tears. Turning back I look straight forward, my shoulder's relax for a moment as I see our exit. Hamilton Avenue is right in front of me, we are only 5 minutes away from being home. We drive in silence till we get home.

Sunday, September 27, 1987

My birthday came and went with nothing. Not even a card. I got one each from my parents. Mom's came a few days before and I was sure to put it on the entertainment center. He couldn't have missed it! I wasn't asking for a gift or a lot of hoopla. Really, I would have been happy just to have a card handed to me! Just remember me!

I went to the store and bought Chrissy a catnip mouse. She is adorable as she is running around the apartment looking for the mouse. She makes me smile watching her play. I could probably say she is my best friend. If it's possible for a person to have a cat as there best friend. I'm going to say it is. I couldn't live with out her.

Chapter One - Never The Victim

2009-04-15T12:01:00.000-07:00

Thursday, September 10, 1987

I sit staring out of the dining room window at the Bank of the West building, towering in the distance. The words no longer flowing, the stories have ended. I could ask myself how I got here, but that would be stupid and break rule #10 and probably lead to breaking rule #8. Quite possibly lead to #2 and #9 coming into question and then be reminding of #1, #3, #5 and I could go on. Besides, I know how I got here! I made the decisions that brought me to this point. I am not the helpless victim, I chose this life.

Lately, Jon Paul has had to remind me far to often of the rules. So here they are (let's not forget them):

10 Rules I Must Follow

1. Do not speak unless spoken to.
2. Do not say anything stupid
3. No one cares about what you think.
4. Remember you are ugly and fat.
5. You are lucky to be married.
6. No one else will ever love you.
7. Always keep the house clean.
8. Never argue or disagree.
9. Always do what you are supposed to do.
10. Don’t be a bitch or stupid.

Remember the rules! He shouldn’t have to remind you over and over about them. They should just be second nature.

I give up on the thought of writing and put away my pen and paper. I have to start thinking of making dinner before Jon Paul gets home. I wonder what he would want to eat tonight and I am again left with no idea's. I could call his work, but he would get upset I bothered him, tell me it's a stupid question, that he wants steak and fries. I will once again remind him we don't make enough for steak and fries 7 days a week and it will lead to another fight. I could wait till he gets home and ask him, but he would get upset it wasn't ready when he got home, start yelling at me for being a stupid idiot and launch himself onto the couch to call out names to me while I am left to cook a dinner while he yells he is hungry and I am once again - Stupid Bitch. My only other option other then driving to the store for the 'steak and fries' (of which we do not have the money) is to guess

I peer into the cupboard and rummage into the fridge. The findings are slim but totally workable. Since I have determined that no matter what I do I will be in trouble I make what I would like to have for dinner. Frittata.

I mix the eggs and take the left over tri-tip out of the fridge and began to cut it into chunks. I use the left over vegetable's from the previous dinner and am proud of the wonderful meal that I have prepared. It's lovely! Sitting in the skillet waiting for Jon Paul to come home.

Today is the day he will walk into the door, see the dinner, smile wide while grabbing me by my waist and tell me that he loves me. That I am the only one he ever could be with. That me making dinner for him (for us) just proves to him how much I love him and he loves me!

I sit patiently at the dining room table. We were married in May and shortly after that moved across the street to a 2 bedroom apartment on the second floor. Much nicer and a little pricier then the 1 bedroom I had had on my own, with both our salaries we could afford this. Besides, the memories of the other place weren't optimal. This was our chance for a new start.

I watch the dinner on the stove, getting colder as the hours pass by and I am once again reminded that he won't be coming home anytime soon. I know better then to call his work or friends and try to find him. Instead I make myself a plate and sit at the large wooden dining room table, alone. It's better this way. I don't get yelled at for making the wrong dinner. Well, at least for now I don't.

It is 10 o'clock and he still isn't home. Since I have to go to work the next morning I clean up the kitchen the best I can and place his dinner in the fridge. I am worried beyond belief at not knowing where he is, but know from past moments, that it is non of my business and I am best to go to bed. Sleep however doesn't come easily, it never does when this happens. I toss and turn till I hear his car drive up and park in front of our garage. My body tenses, I pretend to be asleep while I assess the situation. Will he be tired from working? Was he with friends and drunk? Is he Stoned? Is he going to be mad if I am awake or should I pretend to be asleep?

His key is in the door and I am still playing my options. Should I get up to warm his dinner? When I realize, I am frozen! The possibilities and variables are endless and I am scared of making the wrong move. I don't want to fight, Brain please, what should I do? Give me a sign!!!

The front door slams shut and I am sure all the neighbors are now awake (don't tell him to shut the door more quietly!). I can hear him throw his keys on the kitchen counter. I can't hear his breathing and he hasn't said anything from under his breath yet. 'Come on, give me a sign!!' I hear him walking into the bedroom. He throws something down, probably his jacket. I hear water, no, now he is peeing in the bathroom. Still no sign! The toilet flushes and I hear him walking into the bedroom. "Fuck" I hear. My sign! The lights come on. "Fucking can't see a damn thing!" I am now frozen! My body doesn't move an inch. I steady my breathing to be what I would believe it would be if I was asleep.

Please let him think I am asleep. 'Don't move Samantha, Don't move!'

He opens and slams drawers shut, and then, throws something. I hear it hit the wall, but I don't dare move. I am asleep. Yes, it dawns on me at this point that he probably knows I am not really sleeping. But lets weigh my options here. He is mad now. If I get up, he will have me to yell at! I won't get to sleep at all tonight. He will have left me into a crying ball of stupid. He won't talk to me for a few days. Till he wants sex. If I stay in bed, pretending to be asleep, he will continue to be angry and will either finally come to bed or shake me till I wake up. I have a no win situation. I'm playing asleep!

He finally flips off the light and crawls into bed. Rolling over and trying to take off my pants, his breath smells of alcohol as he begins to kiss the back of my neck. His hands come up to my shoulder, trying to pull me on my back. That's when I smell it, the smell of nicotine mixed with marijuana. Oh, great! This is totally a no win situation! What do I do. My brain goes into hyper speed as I weight the options I have.

I can pretend to be asleep. He will continue to get what he wants.
I can wake up and tell him I'm not in the mood. This will not go over well. 1 week of pure hell at the least.
I can wake up and at least go along with it. I would rather throw up in all my shoes!
I can moan and groan and pretend I am having a bad dream and hope he stops!

I choose the moaning. I wiggle my body, pretend I am asleep, mumbling under my breath about how busy I am and I'm burning the cookies! I slowly move around and pull up my underwear and move to my stomach. I hear him mumble. "Fucking Bitch, all you do is sit home all day while I work hard. Fuck you!" I don't move. I lay flat on my stomach, my legs pressed tightly together my head facing away from him and my arms carefully protecting my breasts! The hardest position for him to penetrate and the safest for me! I don't comment on what he says. Nothing I could ever say would make me win this situation. I remind myself to pick up the items he threw in the bedroom in the morning and I will myself to sleep.

At least he is safe!

Friday, September 11, 1987

I wake up, my eyes still closed, his hand draped over my waist and I listen. Listen for a sign, something to go on. I hear the traffic outside, the morning bird chirping most likely at the neighbor cat, and I hear his breathing. His breathing is rhythmic, as if he is still asleep. I begin to roll my body towards the edge of the bed, my cat Chrissy feels me stirring and I hear her jumping off the bed. I put out my hands as I brace myself from hitting the floor. My legs fall off the bed and I am now face down on the floor. I need to add vacuuming under the bed to my to do list. That and I need to find a more graceful way to get out of bed in the morning!

I pick myself up and tiptoe to the end of the bed. There on the floor was the stack of my magazines that he threw last night. I contemplating on picking them up but decide it can wait. I don't want to wake him and magazines are not a quite thing to pick up and put back. The risk is to great! I quietly grab my clothes and close the bathroom door behind me. I move in lightening speed. I figure I probably have a good 5 minutes at the most to get myself in and out before he wakes up. My goal - Get out of the shower and dressed before he wakes!

I am in and out of the shower in under 7 minutes. I run my time through my mind as I try to pull up my pantyhose over my still wet legs. I give up, I don't know how I fell behind in my time in the shower, and on top of that, I'm tired of the struggle it takes to put on pantyhose over wet legs. They are half on and I vow to fix them once I get to work.

I walk into the kitchen, grab a bowl from the cupboard and spoon from the drawer and pour myself a bowl of cereal. I check the date on the milk before I pour it and carry the cereal to the second bathroom in the apartment. I quickly take a bite followed by putting on my eyeshadow, a bite and then eyeliner, a bite and then mascara. I finish my make-up and cereal in sync of each other, drop off the bowl as I walk through the kitchen, grab my purse and head to the door.

When I hear him. "You leaving already?"

In my rushed voice I say, "Yes, sorry, I'm about to be caught in traffic if I don't!"

"What?" He asks again. He always has me repeat everything twice.

"I'm going to be stuck in traffic if I don't leave now, so sorry!" My hand on the door I leave as he is walking toward me.

I made it! Out the door without a touch! It feels as if I won! In reality, I will be 40 minutes early to work.

I head out into my car and drive to northbound on ramp of 880 to wait in line.

Once to work I can let out a sigh. I drive into the parking lot of B C Produce, wondering if anyone will be here this early again. The controller strolls in around 10 till and the president won't get in until just after eight. The sales crew is usually getting ready to make there sales calls right about now.

I walk in through the glass door. It flaps back and forth behind me as I head to my desk. A large wooden desk with a counter on the front for people to lean on and look down on me. This is my domain! Where I shine! Where all the troubles are gone and everything is within my control. I am the receptionist, if you want to talk to someone in this building, you have to talk to me first! I put my purse down on the desk just south of the door. A large plate glass window is my view to the outside, where I watch the people as they walk up to the entrance. The president's office just behind me, where he can hear everything I say, except on the rare occasions he closes his door. My bosses office is next to his, where she can see my everymove! I walk over to the window, reach beind the copier and flip the switch. "Good morning copier! It's Friday, price sheet day!" Meaning, we will be working hand-in-hand today so no quiting on me today.

I look at the clock, I still have 20 minutes. I go to reach for my lunch bag and realize I left without making lunch. I go through my purse pulling out my wallet. One dollar! I shove my hand into the bottom of my purse digging for change! The chances of me finding enough change to afford something to eat in this side of town would be slim. Right now, I have enough for a couple candy bars. While it's not healthy, it will have to do. I find another fourty-five cents floating in the bottom of my purse, add it to the dollar and tuck it into my wallet. I open my desk drawer to place my purse in it and look into the back. I try to keep a hidding stash of food in the back, today, saltine crackers are on the menu. My only hope is that one of the drivers that come's to do his daily check-in will bring me something that fell off his truck while he was out delivering.
Sometimes it happens.

Introduction

2009-04-15T11:51:00.000-07:00

February 1987

It was an instant. In that one moment he was across the room and the very next second he was on top of me. His hands wrapped around my throat. My body falling backwards only to hit the bed behind me as the world slowed down to a crawl. I could feel every second pulsing through my heart. His blue eyes starring at me, were now black with red shooting threw them.

I screamed, “Let me go!” I think I screamed ‘let me go’.

He clenched his fingers tighter around my neck. The smell of the nicotine from them burned into my memory. I prayed ‘God please where are you?’ My thought’s ‘stay in control, stay in control.. Escape!! Escape!!’ I started wiggle my body throwing my legs over the end of the bed. If I could just get my legs over the end of the bed I could use the bed as leverage to pull myself off.

He must have realized what I was doing. As I got partway off the bed he pulled me up close to him holding me by the neck starring at me in the face. “I will make you love me!” His voice odd, each of his words dripping with his Walloon accent. In one movement he pulled me up to the top of the bed throwing me down. His body now straddling over mine, as I’m pinned helpless to the bed.

“I will make you love me!”

I screamed, this I know for sure. “Get off of me, get out of my house!” The anger now meeting up with my fear, brought me clarity. I remember my mother taking me to a self-defense class at our local police dept with I was 13 in Visalia. In that moment I take a deep breath and in one fluid movement bring my hands up in between his arms that are around my neck. Using my forearms I push his hands away from me and I roll onto my stomach. He is off guard. It is just an instant I know he will be coming after me. I back up to the end of the bed, falling on the floor and I continue to back up watching him as he is trying to get to his feet. I turn and run to the door. My body telling me to get out and get help!

I tell myself if I can make it to the door I just might be able to live. ‘No no, you can do it. Get to the door, when you get there, you can make it, don’t forget the door is locked. Remember you have to turn the knob. Get the door open and run. Run and Scream!’ I repeat what I was to do 10 times in my head. The apartment is small. It is a one-bedroom apartment in the silicone valley, barely big enough for my cat and me. My brain is moving at hyper speed. I’ve never experienced this, and I’m scared.

I get the door open. He is closely behind me. I start to scream, “Help me!” And I see him back away back into the apartment. Why isn’t he coming after me? Why isn’t he pulling me back in? I am grateful that he didn’t reach his hands out and pull me back in. But they are questions that I later would learn answers to.

I pounded on my neighbor’s door begging for them to open up. 2 doors down a gentleman and his wife opened their door. They allowed me to call the police. I stood in their living room, out of breath, tears falling down my face, my hair a mess my clothes barely hanging on and my life in shambles. I am only 19.

‘What the hell am I doing?’

The police arrived moments later. Had they already been called? Had my neighbors heard our fight inside the apartment? Were they just around the corner when I had called?

Jon Paul had written a broken English note saying he was killing himself if he couldn’t have me. The police show it to me and ask if I knew he had written the note. I told them I had never seen it before. I hadn’t. They told me that he was being taken to the hospital. Apparently, he took all the medication that I had in the apartment in his attempt.

“How do I get rid of his stuff?” It was all I was concerned with. I wanted him out of my life. That included the few items he had in that apartment.

3 days later, after receiving a call from him, I agreed to meet him in the parking lot of his sister’s apartment complex. His clothes and guitar in the passenger seat of my 914 Porsche, as I drove into the complex I saw him standing there. I got out of the car, with my no care attitude I walked over the to passenger door and removed his items. I placed them in front of his feet and turned to walk away.

“What can I do to get you back?” he asks

I flip around “Do? I think you’ve done enough!”. That’s when I saw it. His blue eyes were back. The ones that said he was sorry. That he would never do it again.
3 months later we were married.

Welcome

2009-04-15T08:35:00.001-07:00

I hope you enjoy reading Broken Bunnies. Please let me know what you think. This is a work in progress. Being created as you read! In hopes that someday it will be available in bookstores for all to see and teach us all about the women (and men) that live behind the front doors of domestice violence.

All my love!
Tab