by Ruby Monroe
“I don’t think the police will do anything about a threat. At this point, it is my word against his,” she argued. “I heard that one abused woman called the police but they only took her husband to the main sidewalk and talked to him.”
“Then what happened?”
“The police left. He came back into the house and just continued the beating where he left off.” She felt so small, almost invisible. “She ended up in hospital. She didn’t even lay charges, as she was afraid he would find her and kill her.”
“That’s unfortunate. I’m sorry. But not all of these situations end like that. Be brave, Ruby.”
“I appreciate your compassion and empathy. It was good to talk about my situation. Maybe the ice is cracked, and I’ll be able to broach the topic with someone else.”
Mr. Brown ended the one-hour free consultation with a supportive comment. “I’m here and would be pleased to handle the legal agreements and divorce. Please! You have to be very brave, as the situation may get worse. Keep in touch, and good luck to you.”
Ruby stood and offered her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Brown, for your support and suggestions. I see that I have a tough road ahead of me before I’m free from more physical and mental abuse and threats. Thank you, and bye for now.”
Without Ruby’s knowledge, her lawyer, Eric, wrote a red alert note on her file. It read: Ruby Monroe appears to be highly educated and a professional businesswoman. Unfortunately, the poor woman seems to be terribly ill-informed about her rights. Follow-up required—phone call end of this month for an update on her status.
Ruby walked out of the lawyer’s office with the nagging feeling she might not be better off with the lawyer’s advice. She felt more frightened now than she had before she revealed her situation. At least, status quo, she knew how to deal with Jason, even though she remained his punching bag. She had to find the courage to take on the monster. She was reminded of fairy tales from her childhood. She had to be the one to slay the dragon to get her freedom. She would need to be strong—oh, so very strong.
This new information took up space in her head. She was preoccupied with her thoughts as she drove to her meeting with George. She couldn’t wait until she was alone so she could spend quality time reviewing her situation and planning her exit from her marriage and the family home. She was confident that obtaining the documents would be fairly easy. A photo of her bruises would be a challenge. That was something she needed to work out.
Turning her thoughts to this evening’s meeting, she put her personal issues on the back burner. Compartmentalize, girl!
She had been surprised at George’s announcement that morning. She wasn’t sure what this would mean to her. She knew full well that she’d secretly had a crush on him for some time. Maybe she just wanted to be with someone who made her feel good about herself.
She reviewed their previous work-related encounters. Yes, she had developed warm thoughts toward him. She acknowledged to herself that she did like him. He was a very interesting guy. He had a lot of accountability and responsibility in his position, and from all reports, he did his job well. He was popular and always fun to be around.
George was slightly over six feet tall, with a solid but not overweight body. She’d never describe him as having an athletic body—maybe cuddly like a big teddy bear. Now that’s a better description. He was definitely a handsome guy, with little-boy puffy pink cheeks and a twinkle in his sky blue eyes. When George smiled, his whole face lit up, and his eyes sparkled.
He was a good manager. It was obvious that his staff liked him very much. She’d been told by several of his employees that they really enjoyed working for him.
She pulled into the almost vacant parking lot at Howard Johnsons and thought, Good choice, George. She was ten minutes late and hoped he didn’t think she had stood him up. She entered the bar and instantly became aware of the speakers that wailed out large steel drum Caribbean music. That sound had always been one her very favourites. Even though she had never been to Jamaica, she enjoyed the music. A trip to the Caribbean and specifically Jamaica was on her bucket list.
Quickly she surveyed the lounge. Mostly she checked for familiar faces other than George’s. Then her eyes settled on him. He sat at a small wooden table way back in the shadows of the dimly lit bar. He had already ordered a beer for himself and a glass of white wine for her.
When George spotted her walking toward his table, he smiled. “Thanks for meeting me again. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
Ruby knew George cared about her—more than he was prepared to admit. When she reached his table, he stood and gave her a warm welcome with a bear hug. She sat on the chair he pulled out with an exaggerated bowing gesture for her to join him. She accepted his offer and graciously sat. She acknowledged his playful invitation, smiled and said, “Thank you, George. Such a gentleman you are. Sorry I’m a little late. I had an errand to run first.”
They casually chatted about work and superficial subjects that gave them time to get accustomed to each other’s company outside of the office. It also gave George the time he needed to review exactly how he wanted to say what was in his head.
There were a few awkward quiet moments while they sipped their drinks and surveyed the lounge. Then George looked directly at her and started to cry. Tears ran down his flushed cheeks. His shoulders were hunched over, indicating how humbled and hurt he was feeling. It was obvious to Ruby that his heart was broken.
He blurted out, “Ruby, my wife has left me for a guy at her work.” Through his blubbering and mumbles, she was enlightened. “Our marriage was already on the rocks,” he said. “I don’t really know just which incident lately made me suspicious, but her recent behaviour has been questionable. We have become estranged. I don’t think we have had much to say to each other lately. I must admit that the divorce discussion this weekend wasn’t a complete shock to me, but it still hurt,” he continued between sobs. “I feel violated and betrayed.”
She reached into her purse and handed him a tissue. She watched while he wiped away his tears and blew his nose. Ruby all of a sudden felt very deep compassion for him. She so wanted to go to him, hug and comfort him, but they didn’t have a personal relationship, only an open friendly business one, and therefore it was “hands off.” Plus, this was neither the time nor the place for that kind of a blatant display of affection, even if they wanted it.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
“It’s my daughter, Tammy. She’s just 3 years old. That’s such an impressionable age. I love her so much. I can’t lose her. I just can’t,” he cried. He continued to confide in her. “Ruby, what am I going to do?”
“I’m so sorry that this is happening to you.”
“More important, I’m so afraid that she might forget me. I really do love that sweet little girl. You know, the father–daughter connection is definitely there for us. She cried and reached out for me when my wife tore her away from me and then bolted out of the house on Saturday. Tammy knew something was wrong. How do you explain this stuff to a 3-year-old?”
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to console him. She knew he didn’t know that she had her troubles too. “I’m sure it isn’t hard for a father who’s been faithful to get visitation rights.” She tried her best to take the high road when comforting him.
The back-and-forth conversation that went on for another hour was full of ideas, suggestions and what-ifs. “I’m sorry to unload on you like that,” he said finally. “I just had to talk to someone who I could trust and know they wouldn’t blab it all around the office.” He attempted to gain his composure and lighten up the conversation. Faking half a smile, he said, “So how was your day?”
“Not much better than yours.” She lowered her eyes and coyly smiled.
Ruby in her wildest dreams would never have guessed that they would end up commiserating with each other. But she h
ad to talk to someone. “The reason I was a little late for this meeting with you was, I took advantage of a free first consultation with a lawyer in town,” she said. She was determined to hold back the details of her conversation with the lawyer, at least for now. George had enough on his own plate.
“C’mon. You can’t do that. You’re making me feel guilty about dumping my problems on you. I’m a good listener too,” he said, encouraging her to share more details.
“I believe that you are, and I do trust you. I feel kind of strange saying this because we do not, or at least did not, have that kind of relationship before tonight. But here it is. I’m filing for divorce. Welcome to the club.” She grinned with satisfaction, as this was the first time she had actually said it out loud. She secretly hoped he was interested enough in her as a person to eventually let her tell her story. But she couldn’t unload the horrible details of her useless private life right now. She was sure those details would scare him away.
Being here with George was like an escape from reality for her. Being a male, he probably would take Jason’s side anyway. Men all stick together, right?
After all, she had become convinced that she probably deserved everything that Jason did to her; he had told her that enough times. On some level, she had started to believe him. She knew she desperately needed a trusted friend who she could talk to, but a female friend would be easier for her to share her pitiful life with. She was afraid to share too many details. There was just too much at stake. The specifics were way too embarrassing and humiliating.
Listen to me, she thought. I’m not ready to share with anyone. I hadn’t realized how pathetic I must sound. I’m definitely not ready for that conversation.
George reached across the table and put his hand on top of hers. “Please,” he said. “I can see you’re hurting. Tell me, please.”
“I think I’ll need another glass of wine to build up the courage to share those details with you or anyone else.” I’m not sure if even then I would be able to tell him how unbearable my home life has been for so many years.
They ordered another round. While waiting for the drinks to arrive, they chatted about people at work—mostly gossip. The thought immediately came to Ruby’s mind: who’s bedding down who or whom.
He asked, “Did you know our fearless leader and president is screwing the new sales rep, Jennifer?”
“Gee, and he’s so charming,” she said with a sarcastic sneer. Then, with the help of the wine she had just consumed, she added, “Last Christmas when he made the rounds to wish everyone happy holidays, he cornered me in my office. The dirty old man’s Christmas kiss was a tongue right down my throat. I thought I would throw up or at the very least choke. How do you tell the president to ‘Fuck off’ and still keep your job? You just don’t,” she said, pulling a face and waving the thought off with her hand.
“Unfortunately,” she continued, “he depended on that. He has the power. This is the environment we—meaning women—are forced to work in. My experience is that the cosmetics business is full of these creeps with egos the size of battleships. Whoa, I had better stop there, as I’ve already said way more than I originally intended.”
“Does the president always kiss the female employees at Christmas?” asked George.
“No, not traditionally. Just a dirty old man looking for some nookie or to shock.”
She was worried that George probably had a lower impression of her by now. She caught herself and stopped, because she knew better, but somehow she didn’t believe that she would ever be thought of as the victim. That was a new concept for her.
Regardless, she could not tell him about the personal hell she had lived in for so many years. She had never even hinted, never mind outright told anyone—friends or family—about the nightmare she lived every single day. One might describe her as a mentally wounded soldier. They called it post-traumatic stress syndrome. As a result of being a victim of her twenty years of war, aka marriage, she guessed she could be diagnosed with PTSD.
Ruby internally agonized over the decision to share her story. She didn’t know how to tell someone that she was the victim of an abusive man. How embarrassing it would be to actually say that out loud. Just how do you say, “My husband frequently beats me and is also an adulterer?” Wow, that would be so humiliating. No, I could never tell him. He would think that I must be the most miserable person on earth to live with. How do you tell someone and keep his respect? How?
Another round of drinks arrived. They casually sipped and chatted some more, and then finally he asked, “Well, are you going to share your story with me? I promise not to judge.”
Looking across the table at George, she hesitated for a moment to mull over in her mind the answer to that question. She so wanted to believe that she could trust him with her very private secret. But you don’t change in just a few minutes and start to trust again. No, it would take more time. Lots more time. It had taken twenty years to get to this place in hell, and a couple of drinks and supportive chatter would not change many, many years of fear and distrust. Through repeated betrayal, her perception was that there were always consequences of trusting. Thanks to Jason, Ruby had learned nothing good ever came of trusting a partner. Like it or not, this was her proven experience.
After a longish pause, Ruby finally responded, “Sorry, not this time. You have enough on your plate.” She wondered, Have I been brainwashed by Jason? Is he doing this just to keep me in the marriage? This may not have been a correct assumption, but it was what she got out of the meeting with the lawyer and how she felt.
Eventually, they exhausted the workplace gossip. Ruby said, “I really need to get home, as I don’t want to get caught in a lie to my husband. I told Jason that I’m interviewing some applicants for a vacant position. This wouldn’t cause him to be suspicious. Evening appointments are necessary for this job, because not everyone is able to attend employment interviews during business hours. So my lie is plausible.”
They walked to their cars. She said, “Good night, George. Sorry it was such a sad evening for you. Regardless, I enjoyed your company. Thanks.”
His eyes twinkled as he smiled and said, “Good night. Maybe we can get together again?” It was more of a question than a statement.
Silence surrounded them along with many unanswered questions. Secrecy about her constant abuse was a heavy load for her to carry; she had to put on a brave front for George, family and siblings. She couldn’t tell any of them because she assumed they, especially George, would think of her as foolish, stupid, or maybe even spineless.
Deep in thought, she drove home. During the drive, she wondered: Where is this all going? Is it going anywhere?
Chapter 22
1978: Another Problem
Ruby had just finished the family laundry when she got an unwanted surprise. She’d folded Jason’s clean underwear and socks as usual. While in the process of putting them away in his dresser, she was taken aback when she noticed a small brown prescription bottle. She reached for it and read the label. What is this? She had never seen this prescription and didn’t even know Jason had a prescription. She was even more surprised that it was prescribed for the treatment of herpes. What’s herpes? Is it a sexually transmitted disease? She knew deep down that his promiscuous sexual activity would eventually catch up to him.
She checked her medical dictionary at home and then searched the medical books at the local library. Her mouth dropped when she learned it was a highly contagious disease. The medical dictionary described it as commonly transmitted during sexual contact. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Jason had never mentioned anything to her about this, nor did he ever use a condom when they had sex. It was bad enough that he apparently had unprotected sex with his other female partners. She couldn’t get her mind around why he didn’t use a condom with her or tell her he was being treated for herpes. That was just fundamentally mean and inconsiderate.
Jason used to say he liked rough sex. She did not like to be pushed and shoved around during foreplay. In her mind, he was just plain crude. Maybe the other women he had sex with liked it rough; in reality, it was rape. No wonder she’d lost interest in him as a sexual partner. His advances did nothing for her. During this dry spell, he frequently got frustrated with her lack of interest and so he forced himself on her. Of course, he never ever wore protection.
Worried and unsure what herpes meant to her, she needed to pursue other avenues. Confident the best way to get accurate information about herpes would be their family physician, she made an appointment.
Following her complete body and mouth exam, her doctor took a vaginal and an oral swab. She asked, “Why my mouth?”
The doctor asked, “Have you ever performed oral sex on your husband?”
“Yes. Damn him, yes.”
“Ruby, you seem to have several bruises. How did you get them?”
“Oh, I’m kind of clumsy, always walking into something. I’m okay.” She gathered her clothes, dressed and left the doctor’s office, almost wishing she hadn’t come. It didn’t take a genius to see the doctor was not satisfied with her answer about the bruises. More humiliation. When would it end?
When she got home, she plopped down on the couch and sat there in a daze. She allowed her tears to escape. He just keeps doing it to me, doesn’t he? she sobbed.
The doctor’s office phoned a couple of days later. “Hello, Mrs. Munroe?
“Yes,” Ruby said cautiously, fearing bad news. She had tried hard to not feel depressed about this latest calamity. Ruby felt like she was being pushed over the edge of an abyss. She had been crying a lot lately and wondered if his cruelty and adulterous behaviour had finally brought her to a breaking point.