Shattered Essence (11 page)

Lately, it seemed like I couldn’t
wake up in the morning without first thinking of Drew. Was he dead? Did he fall
madly in love with someone and is now happily married? Did he remember me? Did
he ever think of me? I placed my hand over the ache in my heart and wondered if
Drew ever thought of me.

It must be my body adjusting to
being pregnant that has me dreaming of Drew every night,
I thought as I
rubbed my belly. Or maybe subconsciously I was sad because I wasn’t having his
baby. These dreams had to stop before I drove myself nuts. Drew was part of my
past and I had to keep him in my past. I hated to think of what Jake would do
or say if he knew the dreams keeping me up at night had to do with my one true
love. I knew he’d go ballistic. He was such a jealous man. Besides, I didn’t
need another hole in the wall to match the one he put there a couple of weeks
ago after I told him I had lunch with a male coworker. It was best if I kept my
dreams to myself. As far as Jake knew, my dreams consisted of me being chased
down a tunnel. I never told him he was the one chasing me.

I forced myself to get out of bed. I
headed to the shower, hoping to clear my head before heading to the office.

Espe

Last week I discovered I was in my
eleventh week of pregnancy with twins. I was still experiencing fatigue and all-day
morning sickness. When I got home from work I was exhausted. I placed my keys
and purse on the table next to the door, heading straight for the couch. I
needed a little nap.

I wasn’t sure how long I was asleep
before I heard Jake yelling from the kitchen. “What the fuck Espe, I thought
you were going to the grocery store today.”

“I’m sorry Jake,” I said yawning as
I walked into the kitchen. ”I’ve been so tired lately. These babies are taking
all of my energy.”

“You’ve been complaining about being
tired for weeks. If you ask me I think you’re using your pregnancy as an excuse
to be lazy,” he barked.

“Screw you Jake!” I snapped back.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he
snarled.

He was starting to piss me off. “Why
do you have to be such an asshole?” I asked in an annoyed tone.

Jake stood still in front of me.
“Just make me something to fucking
eat
!”

“What do you want?” I asked while
searching the refrigerator.

Poison, cyanide, your balls on a
platter,
I thought.

“Jesus, can’t you just make me
something to eat without me having to tell you?” He pulled a kitchen chair out
from underneath the table and sat down.

Okay, so his temper wasn’t
cooling.

“I was only trying to please you.” I
tried to say calmly as I placed a couple of chicken breasts in an iron skillet.

He looked me up and down with
hateful eyes and said, “If you really wanted to please me, you’d drop to your
knees in front of me.”

I had never seen that look before;
it scared me. A knot started forming in the middle of my gut. I’d be damned if
I would let him speak to me so hatefully.

“You are being a complete prick
right now Jake, and are currently out of your fucking mind!”

“The only mind I will be fucking is
yours when my cock is sliding down your throat,” he snickered.

“No need to let the loco out,” I
balked as I pulled a can of peaches out of the cabinet.

Jake quickly stood up, sending the
chair he was sitting on crashing to the floor. Before I knew what was happening
my face was in his chest. He wrapped his hand around my hair and pulled.

“Don’t you
ever
call me
crazy.”

I stood my ground. I was not going
to show him any weakness. Even if I was scared shitless.

“Let go of me, Jake, before you do something
you’ll regret.”

Still pulling my hair with one hand
he raised his right fist punching me hard in the face. “Don’t you tell me what
to do, devil woman,” he roared.

My face was pounding. Before I had
time to think I tightened my grip around the can of peaches. I pulled my arm
back and with every bit of strength I had I swung my arm around, substituting
the can of peaches for my fist. I hit him on the left side of his face. Jake
stumbled backward before tripping over the chair and landing flat on his back.
I ran up to him and kicked him as hard as I could in the balls.

“
Fuck
,” he hollered as he
grabbed his groin.

As Jake lay in a ball on the floor I
alternated kicking him repeatedly in the ribs, chest, and gut.

“Don’t you ever, ever try to fucking
hit me again!” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Do you understand me Jake?” I
asked kicking him with everything I had in the face.

I didn’t wait for an answer. I ran
to the front door, exchanging the dented can of peaches for my purse and keys.
I slammed the door making certain I didn’t look behind me.

I jumped into my car, started the
engine and stepped on the gas, speeding out of the driveway and the
neighborhood. I didn’t get far before I had to pull over. The adrenalin rush
surging through me when I was fighting with Jake had passed. I was shaking violently.
I couldn’t keep the steering wheel straight enough to drive safely. I stared
out the window afraid to move, afraid to cry.

I sat in my car for what seemed like
hours, going over the events that had transpired over the evening. First, I
couldn’t believe Jake hit me and second, I couldn’t believe I hit him back. I
knew he had a temper but never in a million years would I have thought he’d
turn his anger on me.

What if he had hurt me? Worse, what
if he had hurt the babies? What if he’d killed me? The dream I had of Drew
warning me flooded my memory. I rubbed my belly, wondering what I was going to
do next. I wanted to pick up the phone and call Drew’s parents and ask them for
his number. He would know what to do. I covered my mouth with my hand. I
couldn’t call him. He had his own life now and this was my problem.

What if I hurt Jake? What if I broke
one of his ribs or his nose? What if instead of being the victim of abuse I was
actually the abuser? Should I turn around and check on him? I’m pretty sure I
saw blood on his hands. Was it mine or his?

I looked in the mirror and noticed
my swelling eye and the knot on my check. I was definitely going to have a
bruise in the morning. I looked at the back of my hands then flipped them over
to inspect my palms.
Not my blood,
I thought. I should really go check
on him. Touching my check and feeling the burn, I couldn’t believe I was
thinking of his well-being.

“Fuck him,” I shouted.

I was an emotional wreck.

The anger I felt indicated I sure as
hell would not be returning home anytime soon. I thought about heading to my parents’
home in Manitou Springs. Except I wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more
drama. With no place else to go I opted to check myself into a hotel for a few
days.

Espe

It’s been eight days since I walked
out on Jake. I was finally ready to speak to him after dodging his calls all
week. The only person I had spoken with was my mother and our conversation was
short. I let her know I was okay and I needed a little bit of time to sort
things out in my head. I didn’t want her to know how bad the fight between Jake
and me had been. If she were to find out Jake had hit me, there was no doubt in
my mind my dad would be sitting in jail right now for murder. I needed to talk
to Jake. In case he was still angry, I felt it was essential to meet him in a
public place.

I decided to call him when I knew he’d
be at work. I opted to leave him a message on our home phone. I asked him to
meet me at seven in the hotel’s dining room.

A tall lanky waiter who couldn’t be
over sixteen was asking him about the stitches under his left eye when I showed
up. I winced, trying to forget I had given him the five stitches he was
sporting. Jake stood up and waited for me to take my seat before he sat back
down. I noticed both the waiter and Jake looking at the now greenish yellow bruise
I myself was wearing on the right side of my face. I saw sadness in Jake’s eyes.
It appeared as if he was also trying to forget the events from eight nights
ago.

After the waiter took our order for
a glass of two percent milk and one iced tea Jake said, “Thanks for calling me,
Espe.”

Looking him in the eye, “Thanks for agreeing
to see me.”

Jake reached across the table for my
hands. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I will never be able to forgive myself for what I
did or for the way I behaved. It’s something I’m going to have to live with every
day for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll be honest with you, Jake. Part
of me is disgusted with what happened and thinks the best choice is to say
goodbye. For both of us to go our separate ways.” Taking a sip of water, I
swallowed and continued, “Another part of me isn’t ready to give up on us.
Heaven knows we have a lot to learn from this experience.”

Looking at me with puppy dog eyes he
said, “I can’t lose you.”

“What’s going to be different, Jake?
You could have seriously hurt me, not to mention you put your children in
danger. I can forgive you for what you did to me, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be
able to forgive you for putting your unborn children in harm’s way.”

“I hope you can understand. I’m not
a perfect person. I hate myself for the things I did. I know I have anger
issues. I never thought I could lose control the way I did. I know I need help.
I know I need to change.” His voice sounded fragile. “More importantly, I found
a reason to change—a reason to be a better person. I never meant to hit you much
less hurt you. I was upset with what was going on at work. I needed an outlet. I
loathe myself for making you that outlet. I know what’s at stake. Please give
me another chance. I can change,” he pleaded.

“I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“I know it’s going to take some time
to get you to trust me again.” Rubbing the back of my hand with his thumbs he
added, “Please, just give me the opportunity to show you I can be the man you
need me to be.”

“If I decide to return, and please
be aware I’m not saying I will, I have several conditions.” I looked at him
thoughtfully. “One, if you ever, and I mean
ever
, raise your hand to me
again you will never get a chance to apologize. I mean it, Jake! I am not going
to be anyone’s punching bag and neither will my children. Second, you need to
get your anger under control. Start seeing a therapist immediately. Finally,
this all started because I didn’t go to the grocery store. It will never be a
problem again because if I decide to return, grocery shopping will become your
job.”

Was I really considering staying
with Jake? He destroyed me. He destroyed us.
I must be out of my god damned
mind.

“I know I can change. Give me a
chance, please. I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” Never breaking eye contact
he said further, “I don’t think I can go on living without you. I know there
are plenty of reasons for you to leave. I beg you to find just one reason to
stay.”

“I need time, Jake.” I had a lot to
think about. My mental state was shooting out in every direction.

He was a good man; most of the time
he put me first. Then why would a good man hit his wife? Why would a wife hit
her husband?

“You can even hit me with a can of
peaches every day for the rest of our lives.” I could see he was trying to hold
back tears. “Please tell me what I need to do to keep you here with me. I love
you with all of my heart, Esperanza.”

Tears started falling from the
corners of his eyes. “Please baby, please, don’t leave me,” he pleaded, his
voice breaking in pain. “You are my whole world.”

I felt comfortable with Jake but I
wanted to feel home. I needed to feel safe. I wasn’t going to live in fear. I
wasn’t sure I wanted to be a single mother, either. He looked so sad and
miserable. The guilt I felt for making him feel this way was breaking my heart.
There were numerous times he’d made me feel special, loved even. At times he
was irresistible and I loved him.

“Promise?” I winked at him from
across the table. “I can really hit you with peaches, again?”

“Promise,” he replied wiping his
eyes with the palms of his hands.

Squeezing his hands, I said with a
guilt-ridden voice, “Jake, I am sorry I hit you with them.”

“I’m not. I deserved it,” he said as
he raised my hands and brushed my knuckles with his lips.

Summer

Drew

I scanned the crowd looking for
Paige. She’d promised she would come to Megan’s soccer game.

Why did Paige insist on making my
life a living hell?

Megan only had eleven games this
summer. Paige hadn’t made it to a single one. She had ensured me she’d be at
Megan’s last game of the season. It didn’t really matter anymore—there were
only two minutes left in the game. I sometimes thought of my life and just
wanted to scream. I was doing everything in my power to make this marriage
work. It is damn hard when it feels like I’m the only one putting in the
effort.

When I got home after the game I made
Megan a grilled cheese sandwich and while she ate, I told her I was going to
find her mom to let her know we were home.

I found Paige near the pool painting
her toenails. I walked up to her with my hands in my front pockets. “Where were
you today?”

Her eyes never left her toes when
she said, “My parents never went to any of my games and I turned out just fine.
Why do I need to go to Megan’s games? Besides, you were there.”

I didn’t want to get upset but it
was damned hard not to. “It is not about you. It is not about what happened to
you.”

Paige didn’t say anything, just continued
painting her toes. When I couldn’t stand the silence any longer I asked her,
“How did it make you feel, your parents not supporting you, not showing up to
any of your events?”