Love's Suicide

by Jennifer Foor

  I hated the word marriage, because it reminded me of a time that I wanted to bury and never speak of again. “Bobby, we can’t.”

  He got down on his knees on my kitchen floor and looked up at me. “Like I said before. It ain’t ideal circumstances, and that you’ll probably never feel the same about me, but we’re friends and I want to help. You don’t have to move or anything. It will all be on paper.”

  I looked at the paper and then back to Bobby again. “You’d do that for me? Just to save me money?”

  He’d asked me to be with him before and was kind when I’d turned him down.

  He nodded. “I told you before that I loved you. I know it’s too soon and I don’t expect anything more than an arrangement between two friends. Just let me help you. I don’t want to see you sufferin’ with money when you don’t have to. God knows I’ve paid that damn company enough money through the years. They need to start kickin’ it back in my favor.”

  I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Are you sure? What if you meet someone else that can give you what you need?”

  He shrugged. “Katy, I doubt that will ever happen.”

  I leaned in and kissed him tenderly on the lips. He was an honest man and I felt blessed to know someone like him. “I guess I can’t take long answering?” I was due in one month.

  “It’s going to take a couple weeks for you to get added, so I wouldn’t wait too long.”

  “Can you give me a few minutes by myself?”

  Bobby stood up and walked outside. I watched him out the window, picking up one of the children and twirling them around. I closed my eyes and pictured Brooks doing that with our daughter. It was apparent to me that it was just a dream. He’d never be the father that she knew and I hated myself for it.

  Then I opened my eyes and focused on Bobby. I hadn’t known him long, but he was willing to do so much for me. He’d told me that he loved me, even knowing that I didn’t love him back. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him, because I did. I cared deeply for him, but that’s all it was. I could never give him my heart when I didn’t have it anymore. I’d left it in that hotel room with Brooks and I wasn’t ever going to ask for it back.

  I looked down at the medical bills and knew that if I wanted to be able to afford things, Bobby’s offer was the best way to make that happen. It was obvious he’d take care of me and treat my daughter like she was his own.

  After getting up from the chair, I opened the door to wave him back inside. Bobby stood in front of me with his hands in his pockets.

  “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll marry you, and I’ll try my best to make it up to you and make you happy.”

  And there it was.

  In less than a year, I was engaged for a second time and this one was even more shameful than the first occurrence. This time I aware I didn’t love him and that for my own selfish reasons I was doing it anyway.

  We were married at the courthouse four days later, after our license was approved. Sarah and Dave were our witnesses, and we celebrated afterwards with our normal card night.

  Bobby knew it would be too much stress on me to move in with him right away, so he opted to stay the night with me. I still couldn’t believe that I was married. It felt surreal and sad at the same time. It was as if I knew I was closing a chapter of my life even when I didn’t want to.

  When it got late, Bobby grabbed a pillow and started to get comfortable on the couch. I felt so bad because he wanted more and I hadn’t given it to him. After lying in my bed alone for nearly twenty minutes, I walked back out into the living room and reached out my hand. “Bobby, you’re my husband. We’ve been messing around for months, and I feel like it’s time for us to consummate our relationship. I can’t let you sleep on my couch and feel right about it. You belong next to me in my bed.”

  He looked down at my belly and touched it with both hands. I ran my hands through his hair when he kissed my bare stomach tenderly. “You don’t have to, Katy. I can wait for as long as you want me to. I didn’t do this to push you into movin’ forward. We’ve got plenty of time to be together.”

  I cupped his face into my hands, knowing that he was the best I was ever going to get. “You should never make a bride beg for it on her wedding night.”

  For the record, I wasn’t considering how difficult it was going to be to be intimate at nine months pregnant. Bobby climbed into the bed beside me and pulled me into his arms. I expected him to undress and get right to it, after making him wait for so long. Instead, he kissed me slowly and pulled away to look into my eyes. “This is all I need tonight.”

  I wrapped my arms around him and felt safe. Bobby was going to take care of us and it was the most important thing to me.

  My due date was September 10th and I was in a nervous wreck when I hadn’t gone into labor yet. One thing I was happy about was that the baby was without a doubt Brooks’.

  As I prepared for my first year without the Valentines, on the anniversary of my parent’s death, I knew if I could just get through the day in one piece, I’d be okay. My biggest fear was going into labor on a day where I was haunted by death and despair.

  My water broke that morning, and six hours later I was pushing out a seven pound, seven ounce little girl. With Bobby and Sarah by my side, I was able to get through it while being completely grateful I wasn’t alone.

  After they’d done her measurements and gotten her cleaned up, I saw them walking her back in my direction. My heart was beating so fast, knowing that I was moments away from feeling her for the first time. I held my arms out and watched her being set inside of them.

  She was the most beautiful thing that I’d ever seen in my life. Her head of hair was light but was still apparent and her gray eyes, that I knew would change, were alert and looking right up at me. “Hi. I’m your mommy.” I was a babbling mess and she just kept blinking and looking at me. “I love you so much. I don’t care what I have to do, I promise to make you happy. I’ll do anything for you.”

  I hadn’t discussed her name with anyone, because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I knew once she was there, they couldn’t argue with me.

  Brooklyn Micheala Valentine was born at four in the afternoon on September 11th and I knew my parents were with me in that hospital room. She was a gift to me from them and believing it made the moment the most special experience of my life. For a day that had held so much pain for me it was immediately replaced with something so much more powerful.

  Named after her birth father, she was healthy, with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. I knew I had to share, but I couldn’t stop holding her and looking at every wrinkle remembering the night that she was made. She was a real life miracle and I’d never felt so blessed before.

  Out of tragedy I’d been given this beautiful gift and I was going to spend my whole life giving her everything she could ever want.

  Bobby took on the responsibility of being a father just as I suspected. Even though I wasn’t working, he still took turns with late night feedings and diaper changes and I admired him for loving us when I knew he really didn’t have to.

  Brooklyn became his princess and after one month he lived and breathed for her. I think that’s when I started to really fall for him. I’d held a wall up, unable to accept the things that I couldn’t control. Bobby had saved me and through the fire, he’d brought me peace.

  Seeing him with Brooklyn reminded me of how lucky we were and I knew it was time to let go. I wanted to love Bobby and be a family, but for some reason whenever I felt like I did, my mind went back to Brooks. I kept telling myself that time would heal my wounds, but then again, I’d loved him my whole life and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to stop.

  Chapter 19

  May 2012

  “Hey, it’s me. We’re out of milk. Do you think you could pick some up on your way home from work?”

  Bobby said something under his breath. “Anything else?”

  “No. Just milk. I’ve already started dinner.” I�
�d been trying to have it ready every night when he got home from working all day.

  “What are we havin’ tonight?”

  “Meatloaf. I figured I’d use that ground venison that you’d thawed out.”

  “What?” He was angry. “That was for me to make chili for when we get back from turkey huntin’. That’s just great, Katy. Thanks for askin’ first.”

  “I’ll just get another two pounds out of the freezer. It’s not a big deal, really.”

  “It is a big damn deal when I had it out for a purpose. Can you do anything without pissing me off?”

  I hung up the phone before he could say anything else that was hateful. We’d been married since August and for the first six months everything was perfect. He was a good father and did anything for me that I’d ever asked. But lately, something had changed. I knew what it was, but didn’t know what to do to make things better.

  A couple months ago he’d come home with flowers. I greeted him with a long kiss and soon we were both shedding our clothes. Bobby was good lover, as long as he was being equally pleased. He wasn’t the type of guy to get between a woman’s legs, give her a good time, and then call it a night. Bobby was about pleasing Bobby first.

  That particular night he was extremely horny. He practically ripped off my clothes before we’d made it to the bedroom. I was lifted up against the wall in the hallway, feeling his stiff erection pushing against my entrance.

  Since he didn’t come home like that often, I figured I’d go with it and give him a good time, after all, we’d been living as husband and wife for a while and things were good between us.

  Once he’d carried me into the bedroom, he jumped on top of me and looked me right in the eyes. “Tell me you love me.”

  I hesitated, because, up to that point, I’d only felt a deep admiration for him. I could see me loving him, but it still hadn’t happened.

  I felt his large hand coming across my face before I could respond. “I said tell me you love me, bitch. How long do I have to wait?”

  I started crying and reached up to touch my burning cheek. He pulled my hand away and got up in my face. At this point I was getting scared. He’d never laid a hand on me, and to say that I was frightened would have been an understatement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Chapter 20

  September 2012

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

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

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

  He picked her up and kissed her on the cheek.

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


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

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

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

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

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

  I walked by him, heading into the kitchen. He followed and was waiting for an answer. It was hard being around him, even though he wanted us to get along. “If you could watch her while I decorate the cake, it would be a huge help.”

  “Sure.” He walked B into the living room and I could hear them playing.

  Bobby wasn’t always offering a hand to me. When he found out I’d left he began threatening me, saying I could never make it without him.

  Then he found out about my money.

  I didn’t blame Dave and Sarah for not being able to keep a secret. The money that I’d given them had paid off all of their bills and they were in the process of upgrading their kitchen.

  When his shock wore off, and he realized that without money to hold over my head, he had nothing left to barter with. He knew that it was my choice if I wanted him to see B at all.

  Since then he’d put himself into therapy and was doing everything he could to get back in my good graces.

  The thing was that I knew that what Bobby wanted was for me to love him; something I knew I’d never be able to do. It hurt me to watch him in so much pain. No matter how he’d acted to me, B was everything and without her he seemed lost.

  Since the separation, he’d stopped hanging out with Dave and spent most of his time alone, drinking. In some ways I felt responsible for his downfall and it was the main reason that I’d asked him to come over for the party.