After a while, he loosened his grip a little, sat me up and holding me in his arms, he began stroking my hair. All I could do was cry. He whispered that he was sorry over and over again, and he himself began to weep. What was happening to me? What was happening to us? I don’t know how much time passed before Danny released me, but everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I felt like I was in a cloud and this was all unreal. It was all a bad dream. It had to be. Husbands don’t try to kill their wives in real life. This sort of stuff only happens in movies and on television. Not in real life. I was a good person and didn’t deserve this. What have I gotten myself into?
After several warnings not to run, Danny released me. We got up and walked back to the car. There, Danny apologized again and again. My head was saying, he’s apologizing, forgive him, but my heart was broken in two and his words were meaningless to me. On the ride home, he rambled on and on about how he drank too much and that I made him jealous by flirting with Chris. I should know better and shouldn’t push his buttons like that anymore. It was my fault? I couldn’t believe it, he was blaming me. I sat there numb. I listened to him talk, occasionally shaking my head in agreement. He promised that he would never hurt me again. He promised.
That night we made love. Actually, we had rough sex. For the first time since we were married a few weeks ago, I realized that we have never made love. We always had rough sex. He never even kissed me on the lips during the act. Danny couldn’t even be nice to me during lovemaking.
A couple of days past and things were quiet. Danny would come home every night from work and we’d enjoy a quiet evening at home. I made sure dinner was cooked and the house was clean so he’d have no reason for complaint. After a few weeks passed, things began to change a bit. Danny began to come and go as he pleased. I never asked questions for fear of repercussion.
One evening, out of the blue, Danny came home from work and announced, “The band has some gigs the next few weeks, so don’t expect me to be home on the weekends. I’ll be getting in late on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights.”
I was almost afraid to ask, but I did, “Can I go with you sometimes?”
“No,” he replied coldly, “remember the last time we tried that. I’m not giving you the chance to mess up again. You are not going to embarrass me in front of any of my friends ever again. Especially the band, they already think you’re a nut job with a short fuse.”
“Danny, I didn’t flirt with your friend,” I said quietly, “I swear it.”
“Whatever. Let’s not start that conversation over again,” he said, abruptly leaving the apartment. I sat alone in silence with my thoughts for the rest of the evening. That night, Danny came home around 3am reeking of alcohol. I’d hoped that he would go to sleep without bothering me. I pretended to sleep, but he took me anyway. It was useless to try protesting, because as the weeks progressed, when he wanted me, he didn’t ask. It didn’t matter whether I was in the mood or not, if I wanted to or not, all that mattered was that he wanted it. And there was no saying ‘no’.
I counted the days as the weeks passed. I felt like I was slowly going to lose my mind, I was so lonely. Day after day, I spent time by myself. I had no visitors and Danny spent little to no time at home. I began thinking that if I had a little part time job or something, then I wouldn’t go stir crazy. So, one evening, I decided to brave it and ask. Danny was in a very good mood, so I waited for the right moment and asked, “Honey, I was thinking, maybe, if it’s okay with you, that I can get, like a part-time job. You know something simple like waiting tables or something?”
For a few moments Danny just stared at me with a blank stare. It was almost as if I’d disturbed his conscience by asking. He replied, “What the heck do you need a job for?”
“Well, I’m a little bored and I thought that it would be nice if I could make a little money. You know, for the little things we need here and there,” I said hopeful.
“You’re bored,” he said sarcastically, “I’m sure that I could find a lot of things around here for you to do. And what do you mean by little things here and there, what things do you need?” I could see his entire facial expression changing from sarcastic to malicious. “Don’t I buy you everything that you need?” he paused and continued, “What? It’s not enough that I work two jobs so that you can have all the luxuries of life? For those little things here and there.”
“No, honey, that’s not what I meant,” I said trying to mend the situation before he became more confrontational. “I do appreciate how hard you work, and I know that we don’t need the money. It’s just that I’m a little lonely. I have no girlfriends or anything and it would be nice to be around other people on occasion. I spend so much time here alone.” I thought that maybe he would remain calm, but in my heart, I knew it was too late. “I thought that...” I backed away from him and continued, “Never mind. It was just an idea. I’m sorry, I was just thinking out loud. I won’t mention it again”
Within seconds, he was in my face, in my personal space, looking down at me. He was pointing at me with his finger right at my nose. I didn’t make eye contact. I kept gazing down at the floor respectfully. “What are you telling me? That I’m not company enough for you? Don’t you think that I get bored with you and your constant whining? You need money? I give you everything you need, isn’t that enough for you? Of course not, Miss I Grew Up In Huntington needs more.” He walked over and picking up the telephone went on, “You want to make money…I’ve got a job for you.” He began dialing a number and continued speaking, “Since you want to work, you’re going to make me some good money.” He walked away and began engaging in a conversation with who ever it was that he had called. He was mumbling and I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I held my breath, not knowing what was coming next. He began speaking more loudly saying, “Yeah buddy, it’s going to cost you though. I’m not giving her to you cheap.” He paused listening to the speaker, “Two fifty will be just fine.” My heart sank. He can’t be seriously thinking about prostituting me out.
I tried to grab the phone from him, but he quickly put me into a headlock. When he ended his telephone conversation, he tightened his grip around my neck and whispered, “Now you’re going to make me some good money.” He threw me down to the floor and laughed. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He turned and said, “You want to work…you’re bored…you’re lonely…kiss my behind…I know you…you only want to meet guys. Now you can meet guys and make money at the same time. Go put on something decent. My friend will be here in a couple of hours.” With that, he turned and left. He didn’t return until two days later.
For two days, I sweat it out, not knowing if someone would actually come. Thank goodness, no one came, but I was mortified at the thought that he would send one of his friends to have sex with me for money. When he finally returned, he acted like if nothing had ever happened. I never mentioned working again to him. It was then that I knew that my dream of someday going to Medical School would never become a reality. Not while I was married to Danny.
As the weeks passed, my husband began drinking more and more often. I convinced myself that his temper came from inside the bottle, but I knew better. He slapped and punched me without batting an eye. The apologies always followed, along with the reasons why I was to blame. No matter how hot I got, I covered the bumps and bruises I sustained with long sleeved blouses and long pants. Whenever possible, I would use make-up to cover bruises to my face and hands. I began to fear that someone would find out the truth, so I slowly detached myself from Jenny and Paul, the only two friends I had left. When Danny’s friends came by, I would make sure that they never saw any of my cuts or bruises. I wouldn’t even go to a doctor when I was ill, for fear that I’d have to get undressed. I’d never be able to explain. Within a few months after marrying Danny, I had successfully managed to isolate myself from everyone I knew. Big mistake.
Danny worked daytime hours and played with the band nighttime hours. I spent most of
my days and nights alone. Every morning I’d walk over to the calendar and mark off another day. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and months into years. My life revolved around fearing Danny and only fearing Danny. He never asked how I was, what I thought or how was my day. All of our conversations were about him. He talked about his job, his parents, his friends and his band. He even bragged about his nightly flings, but I didn’t believe he was messing with all these girls. It was impossible, because he’s always bothering me for sex. During our talks, if I interjected during our conversation, he ignored me and continued speaking or he popped me one.
He knew I was lonely. He must have. I just think that he didn’t care. I missed my mother so much. One day, Danny came home and caught me looking at some photos of her. He sarcastically informed me that he had recently seen my mother. “I saw your mother a few weeks ago,” he said haughtily. “What a creep. She barely said two words to me.”
“How is she? I miss her. Did she ask for me?” I asked hopeful.
“Why would she ask for you?” he replied sarcastically and then added, “She doesn’t care about you. Besides if she doesn’t like me, she has no right to see or talk to you. And let me tell you something, don’t you dare go behind my back and try to contact her or I’ll have to teach you a lesson about loyalty.” He showed me his fist and then continued talking about nonsense, the band or something. My heart was broken in two. My own mother didn’t even ask about me.
A few days after that conversation, Danny provoked a disagreement and after giving me a deserved beating, he disappeared for one of his weekend outings. Before he left on Thursday night, he nailed down the windows, locked me in and then boarded up the doors to the apartment. I was a prisoner in my own home and by Friday night I was literally going stir crazy with no one to talk to and no way out. Danny usually comes home and even though his conversations are one-sided, at least it was company. I couldn’t even watch television, because there was no reception. He must have disconnected the cable from outside. I also couldn’t call anyone because he even took the telephone with him. On Saturday morning, I was over it so I decided to brave it and sneak out. I crawled out of the one window that wasn’t nailed shut, the bathroom window, and ventured off for a drive.
I didn’t stop driving until I ended up at Jones Beach. I took my shoes off and walked up and down the beach, enjoying the sand. It was early October so there weren’t that many people on the beach. There was the occasional sunbather here and there, but for the most part the beach was abandoned. It was a little chilly, but I was very comfortable in the khaki Capri’s and yellow tee I was wearing. I wasn’t cold and my bumps and bruises were concealed perfectly. I walked down by the water, which I might add, was quite cold, and enjoyed the smell of the ocean air. The sound of the breaking waves was extremely soothing.
Walking along the beach reminded me of happier times. I remember when I was a little girl, I would run up and down the beach, running away from the waves that seemed to be chasing me. Were the waves chasing me today? I think that they were, but not the same way they did back then. If you listen real hard, there is so much you could learn from the waves breaking on the beach.
After hours of walking along the beach and enjoying the fresh air, I decided to take a ride to Huntington Village to do a little window-shopping. I walked from boutique to boutique, and after a while I found myself at the entrance of a woman’s shelter. I stood there frozen staring at the door. What was I doing? Was I crazy or something? Danny’s going to kill me if he finds out I was here. Someone could see me standing here. I was frozen with fear, and couldn’t get my feet to walk me in through the door. I just stood there like a statue. After a few minutes, a nice black woman peeked her head out, greeted me and introduced herself. Her name was Tracy. She stood out there and talked with me about nothing. She was really sweet, and after a while she convinced me to come inside with her. Once we were in her office, she offered to get me a cup of coffee or some hot cocoa. I just shook my head ‘no’. She gestured that I sit down a moment while she stepped out to get some paperwork from her assistant. I didn’t remember seeing an assistant outside her office, but who knows, I was so paranoid and was beginning to panic. I knew that the longer I sat there, the greater my chances were of being seen. The few seconds I sat there felt like an eternity. A surge of fear overcame me and I just had to get out so I bolted, grabbing one of Tracy’s business cards on the way out.
I would remember Tracy.
1489 Days Left
It sure was great being out of the house on Saturday. After I left the shelter, I stopped at a delicatessen and ordered a roast beef hero with the works. I sat on a bench in front of the deli and ate. I hadn’t done that in over a year. It was a great thing. I really missed being out among people.
As I ate, I watched some children playing in the park across from the deli. They were so peaceful, smiling and giggling as they ran around the playground, rolling around together in the grass. In this miserable world, they had no worries at all. They were in their own world. A world filled with peace and security. A world that had no prejudices, an extremely kind world, there was no difference and no superiority between gender and race in their world. The children played so well together, they almost seemed to be able to read each other’s movements. Even though they all were individual, they were synchronized, equal in some levels as children. The boys, even though aggressive, played gently with the girls, who clearly were more delicate. At one point, one of the little boys inadvertently pushed one of the little girls into the dirt and she began to cry. When he realized that she was crying, he tried consoling her with hugs and kisses. He even tried to help her wipe her little dress that now was dirty.
My heart felt sympathetic to her pain, and I immediately began to long for a little girl of my own. She was so adorable and precious. I suddenly felt ashamed thinking that I could ever raise a child with my monster of a husband. What was I thinking? Craziness, that’s all. Little did these children know that in the real world of grownups, there are men who mistreat women.
When Danny returned on Monday night, life continued the same as it had been. As far as I could see, he had no idea that I had ever left the apartment. I was pretty confident that no one had seen me. Well, at least I hoped no one had seen me. As the days passed, he never mentioned anything, so I assumed that nobody had and he had no clue.
Later that week, Danny was being really nice. He bought a couple of bottles of wine, which we drank over the next few days. The funny thing was that even though I would only have one glass and would drink it really slowly, every night I would get really drunk. Each morning Danny had to give me some aspirin along with my vitamins and my birth control pills. I was so hung over that I was really out of it. It’s as if I was being drugged or something. I don’t think Danny would do something like that. Would he? What would be his reasoning behind it? The wine must have been a really strong one. That’s all.
As the months passed though, I began getting ill. I remember waking up one morning very dizzy. When I tried getting out of bed, I got a head rush and began losing my balance. A weird sensation came over me, and I had to make a run for the bathroom. I began immediately vomiting. For days, the same thing happened repeatedly and the worst thing was that I couldn’t hold anything in my stomach. I didn’t have a fever or any cold or flu symptoms. I started becoming afraid, and asked Danny if I could go to a doctor. He flat out said ‘no’. Two or three months passed, and I was still feeling the same. Everyday he reminded me that I’d live. I rapidly began losing weight because I was always vomiting and had no appetite for any kind of food. I was getting scared for my life.
Over the years, I’d seen so many television movies where the husband would kill his wife by slowly poisoning her. I started getting paranoid and thinking, what if Danny was poisoning me? It is possible. I mean, he is capable and he wouldn’t let me go to the doctor or anything to see what was wrong. We’ve been together for over a year and maybe he’s tired of me. Ma
ybe he figures, since no one sees me around anymore that he can get rid of me and no one will ever miss me.
Stop it, Marilyn, you’re thinking crazy now. Am I?
It’s not so far fetched. Is it?
One evening, I was serving Danny dinner when I began to feel really dizzy. I asked him if I could sit down a moment because I wasn’t feeling well. “Serve me first and then I don’t care what you do with yourself,” he grunted.
I prepared his plate, and while I was taking it to him, I became dizzy, lost my balance and dropped it. I didn’t fall, but his plate full of food did and shattered into a hundred pieces. I heard him screaming at me, but I felt like I was in a tunnel and it was all going black. I was beginning to lose consciousness, so I walked over to the kitchen sink, leaned over it and splashed some cold water on my face. The coolness of the water refreshed me for a brief moment, but then my stomach twisted and I began violently vomiting into the sink. Danny was still screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear him. When I stood back up, it all went black.
Counting the Days Page 7