SCARRED (Scars) (8 page)

“Goodnight mom.”

“Goodnight Jordan.”

A Ω A Ω A Ω

No matter how hard I try I absolutely cannot sleep. I toss and turn all night. Every time I close my eyes I see her. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. It doesn’t feel real. None of this feels real. I try to sit up in the bed but feel like a boulder has been laid across my body. I have got to get up and walk around. The longer I lay here the deeper my thoughts go.

Why me? What have I ever done to deserve this?
Is this what I’m destined for; a life of death, sorrow and pain. I am not even twenty-five years old and I have experienced more pain and loss than most people ever experience in a lifetime. What am I supposed to do now? I cannot go back to how I was after Aiden. I have two kids I still have to be here for. God, Please, Somebody kill me. Put me out of my misery.

A Ω A Ω A Ω

For once in my life I am thankful for my mother and my sisters. There is absolutely no way I could have gotten through this past week. They helped us take care of the kids and make all of the funeral arrangements. I couldn’t do it. I have closed everyone out, and built that wall back around me. Greg has no clue how to deal with this. Every day, it seems like we are drifting farther and farther apart. I am not sure if it is me sinking back into that void or if he is pulling away from me. Either way, this has crushed us. I feel lost. I feel dead again.

CHAPTER 8

Three Months Later

“I am so fucking sick of this!” I scream as I gather my composure, walk across the kitchen floor, plant my foot and swing, landing a right hook against Greg’s jaw.

“I have been at work for the last twelve hours and just want to go to bed. I have been nowhere else and the last thing I want is to come home to be thrown around the house being accused of God only knows what. I am done! Get out!” I scream again as I reach for the telephone.

“I am not going anywhere.: Greg states walking towards me.

“Yes you are!” I wince as I pick up the phone and dial 9-1-1.

“Hello, yes, I need help, my husband has assaulted me. Please hurry.”

Greg tries to take the phone away from me but I slip out of his reach. Giving the 9-1-1 operator my name and address I watch Greg in utter contempt.

“Yes, I’ll stay on the line.” I know that if I hang up the phone I am in for it. As long as I have the police on the phone there is no way on earth Greg would hit me again. I take the phone with me as I step out on the front porch to wait for the police to arrive.

While waiting for the police to arrive, I think about where I will go from here. Though I know this is the e
nd of my marriage, I am also aware that this will be the end of the abuse; the abuse I have suffered for three years now; three years of absolute Hell.

A Ω A Ω A Ω

When I met Greg, he was my downstairs neighbor. In the beginning we only spoke in passing; in the parking lot, at the pool in the apartment complex where we lived; it was always friendly. I was getting over a recent breakup with yet another asshole whose life was even more fucked up than mine. Greg was a single dad who had a little boy about the same age as my daughter who was the only silver lining in the demented playbook that was life.

Over time
we became friends as our children would play together in the pool or at the local playground. He seemed like a decent guy so when he asked me out to dinner one afternoon I thought “Why not?” Over the course of a year our friendship bloomed into a romance leading us into marriage.  That was when the true horror started.

The night of
our wedding, Greg had had way to much to drink which all came out on the way home. When Greg started to argue with me about senseless stuff all I could think was “What the Hell?” It was apparent that Greg could not handle his alcohol, which I had seen at a few parties we had been to throughout the course of their relationship, but this was different. Greg was different and things only got worse once we got home. As soon as we got settled in the house, I received a backhand across my cheek. 

“What the fuck was that for?”
I asked cradling my cheek in my hand.

“I saw you flirting with that punk at the gas station.”

“I was not flirting with anyone. I was pumping gas because you couldn’t even stand up, much less pump gas without getting it all over you.”

“Are you saying I am a liar?”

“No, I am saying you have had too much to drink and need to go to bed.”

“Whatever, you can sleep on the couch.” Greg yelled as he slammed the door to the bedroom. 

It wasn’t long before I could hear him snoring, glad he had passed out so I didn’t have to deal with him the rest of the night.

Some dream wedding, huh?

When I woke the next morning, Greg greeted me with fresh cut roses and pancakes. He sat on the edge of the couch and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. The same cheek he had backhanded the night before and was now swollen and purple.

“I am so sorry baby. I don’t know what got into me. I promise you I will make it up to you and it will never happen again.” He whispered as he nuzzled my cheek again. “Let me get you some ice for that.”

It was almost a month later before he hit me again. A year after that, he held a knife to my throat while I stood over my infant son in his bassinette. Although no woman should ever have to deal with abuse, I deal with it. I do not want to be divorced when I am not even a quarter of a century old. Fighting for my own sanity I stick it out, it does get better, or shall I say bearable. But there are times when it gets way, way worse. I managed it and kept it hidden….that is until Renee’.

A Ω A Ω A Ω

Greg and I stand alone on opposite sides of the courtroom reviewing the events of the night I got home from work later than normal. I am dressed in a white button down shirt and black slacks while Greg is wearing an orange jumpsuit. He has been in jail for the last forty-eight hours on assault charges and we are currently discussing a restraining order.

“Your Honor, does anyone not see that she,” he points his finger at me across the courtroom, “ punched me in the jaw but I am the one that got locked up?”

“I was defending myself!”

“Defending my ass, you walked across the room and punched me for no apparent reason.”

“Really? No apparent reason huh?”

“Yeah, you came home in a bad mood from work and woke me
to start a fight.”

“You were waiti….”

Bang Bang

“Enough!” booms the judge. He turns to Greg, ”Son, you do realize that the State of North Carolina has a zero tolerance policy on domestic violence.”

“She won’t press charges sir.” Greg answers, absolutely sure of himself.

“She doesn’t have to press charges in this state. The district attorney has that option. We do this because there are many times that victims are coerced out of filing.” The judge explains to him.

I stand quietly waiting for the judge to come down on me for my actions that night. Greg glares across the room at me before turning back to face the judge.

“She hit me too. Why does she not get arrested. Why is she not sitting here in this God awful jumpsuit?” He asks.

“’Too’ that is a very scathing word son.” The judge scolds.

“What do you mean?”

“Well son, ‘Too’ insinuates that there were multiple parties involved which leads me to believe that you laid your hands on her also.”

My mouth gapes open.

“And based on what I see in this room, this young lady was most definitely defending herself. You are at least six inches taller than she is and pack at least fifty more pounds. If you were hurt when she hit you, you deserved it.”

“But…”

“No ‘but’ in this equation. I grant the restraining order for a period of one year. Son, you will be released based on time served with the stipulation that you abide by the order of protection placed against you. At no time will you visit her place of employment not her place of residence. You are to remain a fifty foot distance from her at all times. I will send this case to a counselor at Social Services so that we can arrange parental visitation for you without violating the order.”

“Can I at least go get my clothes from the house?” Greg asks.

“Yes you may, with a police escort that I will assign, bailiff please escort the gentleman to processing so that he may collect his things.”

That’s it?

I’m Free!

C
HAPTER 9

Fall,
1999

             
Happy Birthday to Me!

              It’s my twenty-fourth birthday so I choose to celebrate it at the restaurant I work at. I feel safe here after everything I have been going through due to the separation from Greg. I don’t have to work and came up there to have a few drinks and enjoy my night out without the fear of Greg stalking my every move. Even though I have a restraining order out on him, he always seems to conveniently show up at many of the public places I attend; but not here. Since I work here, the employees know to look out for him and to call the police if he even thinks about pulling into the parking lot. 

              As my night begins to come to an end I sit at the corner of the bar and play one of the trivia games and drink some Mountain Dew and snack on chips to level out the buzz I got from all the shots everyone kept feeding me. I am talking with Corinne, the bartender about all the problems with the judicial system and my restraining order when an extremely bright light blinds me through one of the side windows of the restaurant. I raise my hand to shield my eyes and walk to the window to see what was going on. The bright light turns off when I reach the window and it is then that I notice a dark vehicle parked beside my car.

             
What the Fuck?

              “Hey Corinne, I’ll be right back.”

              “Now Jordan you know you should not be walking out alone, this late at night.  Let me get one of the cooks to go out with you.”

              “I’m fine. I don’t think Greg would be that stupid.”

              “Want to bet?’ Corinne answers with a hint of a chuckle.

              “I will be ok, just time me. If I am not back in five minutes, call the police.” I call over my shoulder as I bound out the door before Corinne can protest any more.

             
As I stumble out across the parking lot, I begin to recognize the sedan parked beside my car.

             
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask as I approach the window of the unmarked police car.

             
“I figured you would need a ride home seeing you have been here celebrating your birthday all night.”

“Have you been stalking me?”

“No, just checking on you to make sure you are okay.”

“I’m fine.” I retort.

“I can see that, you cannot even stand there without swaying.”
Gavin snorted trying to stifle a laugh. “Plus I would like to talk to  you about something.”

“Am I in trouble? I am not driving so I know you cannot give me a DUI, so what gives”

“Just get in the car.”

“Let me go get my pocketbook and let everyone know I am ok and that I am leaving. I’ll be right back.”

I run back into the restaurant to grab my stuff and tell Corinne that I’m leaving and have a safe ride home, then hurry out the door to the escort who is waiting for me.

Hopping into the passenger seat I wave at Corinne who is standing in the window shaking her head as Gavin pulls off.

“So what am I in trouble for? It’s my birthday and I stayed out of trouble.”

“I needed to talk to you about something.” Gavin replies.

“I heard you got married last week, so what do you need to talk to me about?”

“That is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You got married, that should be the end of it.”

“I want to make you understand.”

“What is there to understand, you got married. What I want to know is; why? You don’t love her, you have told me that a million times over the last few months. You also told me that after what you went through with Cheri, you would never get married again. So what changed?”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“That is not a reason to get married. That sounds more like obligation and guilt, not love.”

Gavin pulls the car into the parking lot of a secluded park so I can get some fresh air and so he can concentrate on the conversation.

I get out of the car and walk down to the picnic tables to sit for a minute in an effort to steady my balance as well as my thoughts. Gavin walks up and takes a seat beside me.

“You don’t understand Jordan. You’ve had too much to drink.”

“Oh I understand perfectly fine. You married her out of some sort of guilt because she was there for you after the accident when Cheri left you. You were alone and in a partial body cast and she wormed her way in.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t? I have seen the two of you together. I have seen how you two act towards each other. Well more the way you act toward her. You act more like she is your sister than a lover. I have also seen the way you look at me.  So have other people.  People have told me about how you look at me. Like you are a tiger ready to pounce on its prey. The fiery gaze that you get n your eyes. I have felt it too.  I have felt your eyes burning my clothes off me. Does she know? Does she know about us, about our past? Does she know that no matter how much distance there is between us and no matter what happens, we always end up back in each others arms? Does she know you will always come back me?  Does she know that you are here now?” I ask.