“You’re not going with him, young lady. You’re never going with him again,” Mom and her husband hollered as they tried to barricade my way.
Suddenly, Kenny clenched his fist and punched the window in the living room; blood started pouring from his hand. Running out the back door I jumped into his car, which was parked in the middle of the street.
As Kenny and I drove away, I swore I would never go back home again. During the drive to the emergency room we felt like lovers in a romantic, Hollywood movie. This had to be true love, I reasoned. After the doctor stitched up Kenny’s hand he eventually took me home. Where else was I going to go?
Mom and her husband were in the living room drinking their beers. I walked into my room and angrily slammed the door. I put my head on the pillows and sobbed. Nothing else was mentioned at home after that. I saw Kenny at school and snuck away with him when my parents went out drinking.
A few days later Kenny and I were sitting in front of his television set watching, The Wizard of Oz. I overheard his mom answer the phone.
“Yes, this is Evelyn. Are you sure? She is. Oh my!”
“Kenny come here,” his Mom called and whispered something to him.
Kenny came back into the room and ushered me outside. “That was your stepdad he told my mom that you are pregnant. I’m so mad. I hate that guy. Come on, I will walk you to your house.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her it wasn’t true.”
“What!” Now I was not only angry with my mom and her husband, I was angry with Kenny as well.
“Please tell your parents the truth.” I angrily turned and walked into my house.
My mom was waiting for me inside the door. “Why did you tell? Kenny was going to tell his parents.”
“He would’ve never told them and they need to know.”
I ran to my room, buried my head in the pillow and cried. Seems like I was doing a lot of crying these days.
21
Too Young to Marry
“Do not gaze at wine when it is red, when it sparkles in the cup, when it goes down smoothly! In the end it bites like a snake and poisons like a viper. When will I wake up so I can find another drink?” Proverbs 23:31-32
“Let your wife be a fountain of blessing for you. Rejoice in the wife of your youth” Proverbs 5:18
My stepfather kept calling Kenny threatening to press charges for the broken window. Since Kenny had had several run-ins with the law for unpaid parking tickets and illegal shocks on his car he was scared of going back to jail where he had previously spent a few hours. Finally, promises of marriage came immediately after my mom’s husband reassured Kenny he would not press charges for trespassing and breaking the window if he married me right away. We set the date two weeks after our high school graduation, June l6. 1973.
We went to Kmart and bought our wedding bands. My mother bought me a long, colorful wedding dress. Of course, white was out of the question. I hoped the dress would hide my bulging belly. Although I was self-conscious, I still felt ecstatic that I was getting married. My neighbor fixed my hair, and added a large, white lace bow. Monica was my maid of honor, while Kenny’s best friend, Rick stood up with him. We were married in the judge’s chamber at the Colorado Springs courthouse.
Our parents stood quietly by the door as our vows were exchanged. Kenny’s ring would not fit over his knuckle so my sister pulled out a pat of butter from her purse. We had joked about bringing butter hours earlier.
Taking a smidgen between my fingers, I rubbed the butter on Kenny’s ring finger and slipped on the wedding band and happily said, “I do.”
As soon as the short ceremony was over, both sets of parents left to throw together the reception in Kenny’s back yard. The four of us took our time getting home. We passed the batting cages and the guys got out of the car and hit a few balls. Monica and I watched and cheered them on. Nothing could change the unspoken joy I felt at that moment.
Arriving to see our guests, I was thrilled to see a wedding cake, balloons and party favors strewn on the tables. We cut the cake, fed one another, and his friends laughed when he smashed the cake in my face. He pulled the cork out of the champagne bottle took a swig and poured two glasses of the sparkling wine. I watched my handsome, young husband with his shoulder length hair blowing in the wind thinking how happy I was that my dreams had come true that day.
We spent our wedding night in his bedroom, where we would live for the next two months. He went to work the next day with his dad. I didn’t care that we didn’t have a honeymoon; I was just thrilled to be married.
Although my mom and siblings lived around the corner, I rarely went to visit them. Sometimes one of my brothers or my sister would come over during the day when Kenny was at work. I spent my days cleaning the bedroom, or laying out in the backyard, pulling up my maternity shirt trying to soak up the sun. There were many afternoons I spent feeling sorry for myself because I thought things would change after we were married, and Kenny continued to go out without me no matter how often I begged him not to.
One day I opened up the bottom drawer of his dresser and found every letter I had ever written him. Several were still unopened. When Kenny returned home from work that day I cried, “You didn’t even read some of my letters.”
“My dad went through my drawers one day and read them so big deal.”
“I can’t believe your dad read all the personal stuff I wrote to you.” I buried my head in my hands. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
“He said you probably got pregnant on purpose just so I’d have to marry you. Now I know he was right.”
Burying my head in my hands I cried uncontrollably.
“I’m sick of your crying. I’m going out.”
“Please take me with you,” I begged as I reached out and grabbed his shirt. “Please!”
Shoving me aside, “get out of my way,” he screamed.
I watched him walk past me, helpless to stop him from leaving. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m so stupid. Please don’t leave me.”
Sobbing, I fell asleep and didn’t wake up when Kenny got home. The next morning, I tiptoed out to the kitchen hoping not to wake his folks up; feeling embarrassed about the events from the night before. I was sure they had heard Kenny yelling at me, after all it was a small house. I was relieved to find out they were gone.
“Where are your parents?” I asked hours later when Kenny finally got up.
“My mom probably went to get her hair done and I don’t know where my dad is.”
“Were you drunk last night when you got home? Where did you go?”
“Don’t start with me or I’ll leave again as soon as I take a shower and you can go over to your mom’s house.”
I hid my feelings and pretended everything was okay. I made him breakfast and put a smile on my face. I didn’t want to spend the day without him.
Every day, I walked on eggshells afraid of saying anything that would prompt him to leave. I had gotten pretty good at burying my feelings. Two months later we had saved enough money to rent our own place. It was a one-bedroom apartment on the other side of town. He picked it out one day after work. Apparently, it was close to his job, but forty-five minutes away from our folks.
There was usually very little money left after payday and we still had not started shopping for baby things even though I was over seven months’ pregnant. We had one car. It was a stick shift and Kenny wouldn’t teach me how to drive it, so I was stuck home every day. Feeling lonely day after day I decided to decorate our furnished living room with knick-knacks Kenny had taken from his job. He was a furniture mover and he packed up people’s personal belongings and moved them from one place to another. I surrounded our small television set with stuffed animals that Kenny had won for me over the last two years.
Since we had no phone and I had
no one to talk to anyways, I spent my mornings watching hours of soap operas. Feeling isolated I was almost afraid to leave the safety of my apartment. But at least once a day I forced myself to go outside to the dumpster and throw away our trash. Every night I cooked dinner, never knowing what time Kenny would come home from work. I had no visitors. My sister didn’t have her driver’s license. My little brothers were all too young to drive and my older brother had joined the Air Force. My mother had a job and kept herself busy. I had no friends.
Kenny started smoking cigarettes, which really upset me.
“You never even smoked in high school. Why are you smoking now?”
“Everybody takes a smoke break at my job and I don’t have anything to do. I feel stupid standing around doing nothing.”
Kenny would drive me down to our hometown of Security where our folks lived for my doctor’s appointments each month. He never went in with me. He waited in the car. After the appointment, he’d drop me off at my mom’s house and leave me there all day and pick me up to return home. On the weekends we’d gather up all our dirty laundry, take it to his parent’s house and his mom would wash and fold our clothes. Sometimes he would take me driving around with him and meet up with some of his old high school buddies. Most of the time I sat by myself at my mom’s feeling left out while he went driving around. Never had I felt so lonely. On Sunday nights, my mother-in-law made a big dinner and I was surrounded with his family. It gave me a chance to get to know my new sister-in-law who was due two months after me with her first child.
I was so unprepared for having a baby. We didn’t go to any classes about childbirth. I didn’t read any books or even talk to anyone about what to expect. My mom just told me not to scream, it didn’t hurt that bad. Most of the time I wasn’t even thinking about a baby. I just wanted my new husband to love me and spend time with me. It was easy to forget I was pregnant, until I looked down and noticed my growing belly.
22
Jeremy
“My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.” Psalm 139:15
On September 11, 1973, I had just turned eighteen. Three days later I woke up with mild cramps. My baby wasn’t due for 2 l/2 weeks. I felt uneasy but I had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon. Luckily, Kenny would be home from work to take me.
“You’re probably in false labor,” the doctor explained. “If you keep getting pains you can go to the hospital.”
We decided to stay with our parents and not to return to our apartment. At 7:00 pm, the pains were getting stronger and we headed to the hospital. After the doctor checked me, he assured me I was in false labor. “If nothing happens by 10:00 you can go home,” he said.
Feeling angry and scared because Kenny had refused to go to a birthing class and not knowing what to expect, I remembered what my mom had told me. “Don’t be a sissy girl and scream. Everyone has babies. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”
I thought, she should know, she had six of them. Later I found out she had a spinal anesthetic, which caused her to feel nothing below her waist, for every one of them. Of course, it hadn’t hurt!
It was 9:30 p.m. and my mom decided I should get up and walk around the hospital to hurry the labor process. Thirty minutes later we all found ourselves standing in front of the nursery window, that is when I heard a pop and saw the words POP, in my head. Looking down I noticed water dripping down my leg. “What’s happening to me?”
My mom was excited, “Your water just broke.”
As I walked back to my room, unbearable cramps began to tighten around my abdomen.
Kenny stood around feeling uncomfortable and the nurse finally told him to leave and wait with everyone else in the waiting room. Mom walked in and out of the delivery room, but she wasn’t much help.
The nurse kindly held my hand, “Honey, pant like a puppy dog.”
I did and within two and a half hours our son was born. I don’t remember it being too painful and I was determined not to scream. I wanted to make my mom proud. She was!
My little bundle was finally placed in my arms, Kenny was called in to welcome our new son. I looked down at my baby, he was tiny; weighing only 5 pounds 10 l/2 ounces. Smiling at the little stranger making sucking noises, I instantly felt a surge of love and fear. I wasn’t ready to be a mother! The next day Kenny told me he was taking my sister to see American Graffiti.
I wish I wasn’t in the hospital so I could go, too, I whispered to myself as I watched the two of them walk out of the room. If I had been older maybe my thoughts would have been on my newborn baby. Instead I was consumed with Kenny’s attention or lack of it for me and I was jealous that my sister got to spend time with my husband and I didn’t.
Luckily, my mom and Smitty bought us a crib, diapers and some baby clothes, which they set up for us in our one-bedroom apartment. Jeremy was small and had wisps of black hair and bright blue eyes. I fed him his bottle and counted the hours until I could go home. Back to our small apartment with my baby beside me Jeremy and I became a team, while Kenny continued to go out after work and I never knew what time he would come home. Unfortunately, he didn’t take the loneliness away I felt and I desperately craved my husband’s attention.
Every morning I’d make sure I cooked a hearty breakfast for him no matter how tired I was. After preparing scrambled eggs, bacon and toast I’d ask, “What time will you be home?”
“I don’t know, just make sure you have dinner ready.”
“Okay, I love you.”
Sometimes he would repeat the words, other times he’d walk out of the house with only a wave. My mood for the entire day was determined by Kenny’s actions towards me. I would be depressed for hours if he had not said the words I longed to hear, “I love you, too.”
After Kenny left for work, I would sit the baby close to me while I watched soap operas and munch on salty potato chips and moist chocolate chip cookies. Early in my marriage I learned to console myself with food. With no phone and only one car (that I couldn’t drive), I spent long, lonely days at my apartment, cleaning up after the baby, watching television, and preparing dinner. I’d pop a bottle in my son’s mouth and share my fears, anxious thoughts and unhappiness with him, remembering my mom’s words, it doesn’t matter what you say, he just needs to hear your voice. I tried hard to do the right thing. Even though he only looked up and cooed or fell asleep, I loved having his company.
Jeremy was a content baby and seldom cried. The tasks of bathing, changing, and feeding him became routine. I rarely had a visitor and felt like nobody cared about me. Kenny hardly changed the baby’s diaper or even held his newborn son. Sometimes Kenny went out drinking right after work. I never knew when he would come home, regardless of the time, I always had a nice warm dinner prepared. As soon as he got in the door, I’d warm it up and wait on him until it was time to go to bed. Other times he’d come home from work start a fight with me, take a shower, slather on his cologne and leave.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going out with my friends tonight.”
“Please don’t leave we have a baby now. Can’t we go with you?”
“You can stay home and watch the kid. You’re the one who got pregnant.” He’d say, slamming the door on his way out.
Quite often I’d cry myself to sleep until the baby woke up. Kenny always slept through Jeremy’s cries at night. Sleepy-eyed, I’d get him out of his crib, walk into the living room, warm his bottle, feed and burp him. Jeremy was easy and he would go right back to sleep without a fuss. I found myself becoming resentful towards my baby because Kenny rarely took me anywhere. If only I didn’t have him then Kenny would want to spend time with me. Then I’d feel guilty for thinking those horrible thoughts. It seemed Kenny tried to avoid me as often as he could. Marriage hadn’t brought us closer, and having a baby drew us further apart.
Most weekends, Kenny would drop me and Je
remy off at my mother’s and show back up late at night or early in the morning after the bars closed. This was not how I had pictured my life. Our fighting consisted of me begging him not to leave as I stood against the door pleading. “Please don’t leave me. Don’t go out again. Why don’t you ever take me with you?”
He’d call me names, make accusations threaten me while shoving me aside. “Get out of my way.”
Sometimes he’d hit me in the mouth or slap my face or slug me in the shoulder then walk out with a smug look on his face.
Devastated, I’d throw myself on the bed and cry until the baby woke up. As I went through the motions, changing diapers, warming bottles, talking to him, my thoughts were always on Kenny. Why doesn’t he love me anymore? Why doesn’t he want to spend time with me? Why is he mean to me? I must be a terrible person. Most nights I tried staying awake waiting for him to come home, hoping he’d come home or worried that he’d be involved in some terrible accident and finally exhaustion would get the better of me and I’d end up crying myself to sleep.
The next day Kenny would act like nothing had happened. Sometimes he’d even apologize. One time when he hit me in the face and my eye was black and blue, he convinced me to lie to our folks. “Kenny threw a can of corn at me to put away after grocery shopping a couple days ago and I missed. I feel so silly.” I never told anyone he hit me.
When Jeremy was about six weeks old, I ran into a mutual friend of ours from high school. “Hey Deb, my birthday’s coming up. You want to go to that new nightclub Superstar with me? They serve beer to eighteen-year-olds.” Rhonda asked.
“Kenny would never let me go.”
Rhonda bravely approached Kenny a week later. “Can Deb and I go out to the Superstar with me tonight?”
He turned to me, “Promise you won’t dance with other guys? In fact, promise you won’t even look at another guy.”
Something About Those Eyes Page 14