CHAPTER THREE
Getting Hitched ‘Again’
One day we were sitting on the couch and he said so you wanna? I said what? get married again and he said yeah. And so it began again. We went downtown and got another marriage license. I made an appointment with another Justice of the Peace and we went on my lunch break from the pharmacy and got married. No one invited, no one knowing… we just did it. Second biggest mistake of my life, huge! We were right back where we were the first time, still living with my parents, still poor as church mice, still as naïve as newborn babes. It’s ridiculous when I think back on it. We didn’t fall on bad times, needing to be taken in by relatives. Oh no, we created those bad times by not being responsible for ourselves. Mind you, I’m not against helping my friends or relatives when they need it, but I really wish someone would have talked some sense into me. Thinking back, there were probably many hints and most likely some downright honest comments made, but love is a powerful thing, making even the strongest person weak in the knees.
Of course living with anyone at the beginning of a marriage is hard, but especially the second time around when the only thing that has changed is your age and the sleeping arrangements. It wasn’t long before we decided we needed our own space. We found one of those hotels that you can rent by the week or month and moved in there. Finally, our own little piece of the world, sort of.
We started off happy enough. I think it was more like playing house. Then over time, we decided our little pie in the sky was haunted. Stay with me now… weird, unexplainable things happened in that apartment. Some things clearly had explanation. It was a seedy, fly-by-night hotel that had one side of apartments and was near a college so I assume that was the usual band of people who stayed more than a night. For us though it was a means to an end. Cheap monthly rent, all bills paid, furnished with the basics… a newlyweds dream.
More like nightmare! Many, many times we would come home to find things moved around. Nothing missing per se… just moved from where we kept them. In particular, I had a tiny bronze frog in a plastic box. Probably some trinket he picked up for me at a gas station but in those lovey dovey days it would have been like getting straight up gold bars to me. Anyway, I digress… the frog… the box had one of those snap openings and I always, ALWAYS, kept the frog facing out and snap closure facing back. We would come home and the frog was turned. Not just once or twice… this same was happening pretty much daily, but it wasn’t just the frog. We had a large dresser in the bedroom. He had one side, I had the other. We came home many nights after work and the sides were switched. And, since this wasn’t creepy enough, we stayed. If I hadn’t seen this stuff, even I wouldn’t believe it.
He got up and left early, probably 4:30 a.m. for guard duty one weekend and me going straight from daddy’s to there, I’d never really stayed alone so I kissed him goodbye, locked the door and then proceeded to move the giant chair in front of the door so nobody could get me. Whew, that was close! Happily now safe, I went back to dreamland. I woke up a while later, doing my morning activities… went to the sink for a drink and there was hair everywhere! Not hair like the drain backed up and it left junk in the sink, NO… real hair and piles of it. It literally looked like someone stood at my sink and cut their hair. It wasn’t beard hair. It was long strands but in locks. Needless to say, I decided an overnight with the folks would be a great idea. No way was I staying alone in Haunted Apartment 118.
He got back from weekend duty and we decided to do a test. We placed money, not a lot, but small bills totaling around $20 on the dresser next to his things. We went off to work and at the end of the day, our dresser sides had been changed and the money was moved — to his ‘new’ side right next to his cologne. I never stayed there alone again.
Then it was on to a trailer in a seedy trailer park in Belton, your average trailer dwellers. I by no means want to offend anyone, but you know the type of place I’m talking about. Everyone is barefoot, always a little dirty and more than one person is missing a tooth! All kidding aside, the trailer itself was actually quite cute. We were both making decent money, and by decent I mean we thought we were way richer than we were, at the time and were able to afford a few dollar store amenities and we made that trailer into a home.
Then life happened. Our high on the hog living was over. One truck was repossessed. No money for gas for the trailer. No money for anything really. I remember hanging blankets in the hallway to close off the living room and us sleeping on the sectional sofa so we could stay warm. The water was hot but the bathroom was cold. Food was scarce and many times I added a little water or ketchup to stretch that hamburger helper just one more day. We had food mind you, just not always what we wanted. But we were living on our own and doing what I thought was the best we could.
He applied to work maintenance at some really nice apartments in Temple and got the job. Part of his pay was a hefty break on an apartment rental and we moved in and things started looking up once again. We lasted there for nearly a year but he decided he needed something better. So, he gets a new job selling vacuum cleaners door to door. Don’t laugh just yet. He was very good at it. The very characteristics I would grow to hate in him made him a top notch salesman. He was a smooth talker, charismatic, able to lie at the speed of light… and became sales manager in no time. Good living, money and we were once again on top of the world!
Then one day that world comes crashing down. He was accused of Sexual Harassment! Really? This can’t be true. Not my husband. He loves me far too much to ever jeopardize our marriage over some girl at work. Oh, but it was true, very true in fact. And it was TWO ‘girls’ he was supposed to be training, each with a similar story. He took them out for drinks after sales calls. Neither of them was even old enough to drink. He ordered pitchers of beer and as they say, one thing led to another. His version of course was much more rated G. There was no sex, just drinks and they flirted with him… those harlots! Sorry, a little sarcasm there. Now, their version was much more disgusting and sadly, credible. It was a classic story, you scratch my back and I scratch yours. Like I said, their story was more credible and I wish I had walked away then, but of course I fell for every word that came from his lying hole. He got fired, we ended up in court over some unpaid wages and we lost. Another huge red flag but my sweet husband would never do something so awful to hurt me. So much for top of the world~!
He began to drink more and talk less. And the drinking only made the problems worse. Why people with no money take up drinking is beyond my comprehension. Drinking is EXPENSIVE. With each new drink came a new personality. One day he would be just fine and normal and 30 minutes later, he was some other person… someone I didn’t know and didn’t want to know. His verbal tirades were bad enough until the day they became physical.
CHAPTER FOUR
On the Move
From here we moved again, this time answering an ad in the paper about a little country house in Rogers. We made arrangements to meet the man and once in Rogers we did and then followed him for what seemed like an eternity. I was convinced he was taking us somewhere to murder us! Thankfully he didn’t have any sinister intentions… but what he did have was a small house on 20 acres with a pond out back. I was skeptical at first. The outside was pretty worn looking but the moment I walked in the door I knew I wanted to live there. Nice sized living room and for the first time an actual dining room! Sure the carpets were mismatched and the house had that familiar grandparents smell but it was a measly $275 a month in rent. Its major flaw that we could find was it was so far out of town. But it could have been filled with killer bees and I would have still loved it. We lived there quite a few years.
My nephews would come and spend nearly every weekend with us. They weren’t really my nephews, 2nd cousins to be exact, but to this day those boys still call me Aunt… I love that. They had 20 acres to run and play and hunt and fish on. We would take walks and explore the old abandoned farm houses around. We found many treasures in those old houses. I guess I fooled myself that the boys never saw anything or knew anything. Later my older nephew said he wished he could have helped me but he was just a kid. That statement alone was enough to break my heart. Those poor boys! I thought they were always having a good time and loving hanging out but in their own special way they were there to protect me. And protect me they did. He would still throw his tantrums and scream but they were old enough that they might tell on him if he wasn’t careful.
We started going to church. It was a little heaven on earth. Everything was looking up again. At least that is the mask I wore to the world. Because you see, it was far from perfect. My once loving, attentive husband was becoming more moody, withdrawn and had a different personality every night. There was even more drinking. I’ve never been a drinker. I don’t like the taste of hard alcohol and I don’t like not having control of myself. So I was always there to make sure he didn’t take things too far. We continued living there and going to church and drinking… just a normal young couple. The church was mainly older people so the minute the preacher’s daughter and son-in-law moved back to town we glommed on to them like kids on an ice cream truck. We became fast friends. So much so that she talked her father into letting us put a trailer on his property right next to theirs.
This is where the real ‘bad’ things started. Whenever anything with moving didn’t go right, which if you’ve ever moved you know it doesn’t… he would throw a tantrum. I call it a tantrum because I liken it to a 3 to 4 year old child not getting a toy at the store. He would literally bite himself until he drew blood. Self-abuse is one thing, but then he moved on to me. Over the years there had been the verbal abuse and occasional grabbing of the arm but he loved me so much and told me over and over if I would just learn not to push him he wouldn’t have to do those things. So, as you can plainly see, it was “all my fault”. My fault that the pole for the electricity didn’t cement in just the way he wanted, my fault that the water department wanted a fortune and a half to run water, my fault that the lines he installed kept busting… it was clear… all my fault! He told me many times to just leave him alone. Leave him to drink his bottle of whiskey or finish off that 12 pack he brought home. If only I would listen to him. Stay out of his way. Don’t push his buttons. Learn to shut my mouth… I’ve heard them all. He conditioned me to believe I deserved every single thing he said and did to me. Do not mistake my words here… I am also to blame. I knew in my heart he wasn’t treating me right. I knew I didn’t deserve to have my hair pulled or my arm twisted behind my back, but I was determined to stand by my man. A sure fire way to commit slow suicide.
There were numerous holes in the wall and ceiling. We had a pool table and he missed a shot so he jammed the pool cue into the ceiling… you know like any grown man would do in the same situation. Doors would be kicked open leaving holes in the walls. I remember most of the initial physical damage he did was in that trailer… the one right next to the Preacher himself. I can recall being drug around the living room by my hair because some kid at church told me I had pretty lips, which was clearly my fault for wearing any form of makeup out of the house. I remember being at Lowe’s once and walking out as some random guy was walking in. The guy, a Texas guy, tipped his hat and said hello. I said hi and went to our truck. And the race was on to see how hateful he could be to me before we got back to Rogers. I was a slut because I said ‘hi’ back to the guy. I was a whore for wearing a pair of shorts. Demands were made as to how I knew the random man. I swore I didn’t know the guy. I begged, I pleaded, I cried, I promised… I did not know the man. It was just a man walking into a building. I don’t think he every really believed me but he finally let that one go.
It seemed like he worked non-stop. We didn’t have any time together which wasn’t always a bad thing. He never got a break. He had to work overtime, all the time. We never went anywhere except church. He would come home from work and sit. I would make his plate, bring it to him on a tray and then make my food. This was how a good wife was supposed to act. For years if he rattled his tea glass I was there to fill it. I did absolutely everything for that man. But my everything was never enough or good enough. The food was too hot or too cold. He doesn’t like such and such even though we had the same thing a week before. He told me I needed to learn how to cook something other than in a microwave or out of a box.
When he was home, I never knew who would be there. Would it be the funny, sweet, handsome man I fell head over heels for? Or would it be the mad, distant, grumbling man I’d seen him become so many times before?
I will admit here and now I was lonely, very lonely. Not for sex or physical touch because that was pretty much expected every night. There was no lack of mechanical intimacy in our marriage but a definite lack of emotional intimacy. I craved it so much I began chatting on line. General stuff with general people at first, but then someone caught my attention. I realized I was spending literally as much time talking to him as I was working. Was this emotional affair the right thing? I know now that it was not and cheating, albeit, via a computer is never the right choice but I was truly messed up in my head. I don’t excuse it, but I understand it. Maybe I’m the only one who ever will understand why I did what I did.
I carried on with the same man over chat and telephone for many months, many more than I had been engaged to my husband. He sent me cards and letters in the mail. That was as tawdry as it gets. There was no phone sex or face to face meetings. It was all talk and mostly done on line. I did make plans to leave my husband at this point. This would have been roughly 14 years into the total marriage time.
I had finally managed to get the nerve to do it and was in my truck driving to my parents’ house to talk to them when I got a phone call that would change everything.
It was my brother. Our mom was in the hospital throwing up blood. The same mom who gave birth to me, nursed me when I was sick, held my hand when my engagement broke off, sewed my wedding dress… it was ‘mama’. I was never really close to my mom. No, I was a daddy’s girl through and through but when you hear the word CANCER, it doesn’t matter if you are mad at them, haven’t seen them in 5 months, or argued the last time you did see them… none of that matters. My mama was sick. I had no problems.
The doctor’s gave her less than six months to live, and in typical my mother fashion she completely denied being sick. Said she had a bug of some sort. I practically lived in her hospital room with her. I was there day and night. Mama didn’t want anyone else with her. Finally the doctors had done all they could do and decided she needed to go to a nursing home. HELL NO! I promised my mom and dad from an early age they would never go to a home. EVER! I told the doctors I was taking her home to her house to die because that’s what she wanted. They told me I couldn’t… they said you can’t possibly take care of her. They greatly underestimated me. I asked them which one of them thought they were stopping me… they inevitably decided she could be discharged to my care. Home we went. I moved some clothes, my work computer and my beautiful dog in to mom and dads’ once again. Don’t believe it, it’s not true, you can go home again. I was still determined to leave my husband; it was all just timing and logistics now.
The back bedroom which was my daddy’s room now was turned into a makeshift office for me. I took over running that house and taking care of my mama. There were many days in a row I got little to no sleep but I kept plugging. I got all their bills paid and current, had the house cleaned and still worked my 8 hours a day. I kept a baby monitor in mama’s room and any inkling of trouble and I was at the front of the house pronto. I put up signs about no smoking and oxygen in use and made it clear to everyone visiting that NO ONE smoked around my mother. For heaven’s sakes I can’t see how you can come visit your relative dying of lung cancer and see the pure torture on their face and then go outside and light up. Addiction is a terrible thing.
Mama was good for a few weeks. I was doing everything in my power, including pretending to still be a happily married woman, to keep my mama well. I made dinner every night and my wonderful, loving, supportive husband (insert gagging noises here) came every night to eat with the ‘family’. Mama would eat maybe 2 bites and be done. I tried to make all her favorite things, I tried all the protein drinks, puddings, ice cream – anything to keep something going into her system but she couldn’t eat. It wasn’t her fault. She tried. It is shear torture to watch someone wither away like that, but I was determined. Every night I kept up appearances by going through the motions with my husband. I walked him to the door, said goodbye and kissed him as he left. Even now the thought of doing that makes me a little sick deep inside, but I was keeping this up for my mom’s sake. He even begged me several times, on his knees even in the street in front of my parents’ house to come home. I would just answer that my mom needed me. He knew it was over.
These family meals went on for weeks… until mama wouldn’t eat at all. Mama wouldn’t talk. Mama couldn’t … she just couldn’t. I set my alarm every 4 hours to give her breathing treatments through the night. She wasn’t even aware I was in the room. Hospice was coming more and more. We had the most amazing Hospice team anyone could ask for. The nurse even brought mama a stuffed baby sheep that she named Hope. Hope was buried with mama that March. One day I went in to check on mama and she was awake and alert, at least to the untrained eye. She smiled at me and said ‘help me grandma’. My heart literally ripped to pieces that very minute. But somehow I held it together. This was a Thursday. I called my office and told them my mom didn’t have much time and I was taking Friday off to just sit with her. I did just that. I stayed next to her in bed most of the morning. We drifted off to sleep, me right next to her. I woke up, she did not. That was the very last memory I have of my mama. Falling asleep next to her for a nap and then she was just gone. I can promise you this; if you ever get the chance to nap with a dying loved one, take it!!… it is something you will never forget. If I were to become a millionaire tomorrow, it would pale in comparison to spending one last day with my mama.
As painful as it is to lose someone like that, it is also a relief. Not just relief to the physical body of the caregivers but to the mind as well, knowing they are no longer suffering and will someday greet me at Heaven’s gates. I waited about 5 minutes, composing myself before going into the dining room. I didn’t know but mama’s brother and sister-in-law had come to see her and were sitting having coffee with my daddy. I walked in and told them and instantly saw my strong, can do anything, daddy completely lost. To that point in my life, I’m not sure I ever saw my daddy cry… Thank God there were other relatives there, I needed them just as much as my daddy did. I called Hospice and told them and they sent out the team right away. My mom was in the hearse ready to leave and we had all gathered out front to see her off and we all made a circle to say a prayer. The ambulance and hearse both waited until our prayer was finished before they took mama.
I was in zombie mode. I didn’t know which way was up or down. I had a routine down of taking care of mama. Now, we had a funeral and burial to plan and get through. Relatives came and went… lots of food came and went. I didn’t. I stayed. I kept telling the husband that my daddy just wasn’t ready for me to leave yet, when in truth I never expected to leave, never wanted to leave. Finally after a few weeks I sat down with my daddy to talk. I told him everything, about the abuse, the drinking, the online affair… everything. I told him I didn’t want to go back to my husband and that I wanted to move my cat and dog in with him. He told me I could do whatever I needed. I was overwhelmed. I was so happy. It had been a long time since I felt happy.
I decided it was time to tell him it was still over. I went to Rogers to get my cat and in a true moment of pure weakness, I let my guard down again. I was emotionally wrought. I don’t even think I had defense left. He was tender, loving and saying every last thing I desperately needed to hear, that I’d wanted to hear for the last year! We ended up in bed together and once again the charmer has charmed! I confessed to the online affair, promised it would end and that it was him I truly loved. To be honest, I don’t know who or if I loved anyone at all. I was as lost as lost can be. The things I had been through in those last few months would cause anyone to question their sanity.
I went to my dad’s and explained we were giving it another shot. I packed up the belongings I had there, got my dog and we went home. The first few weeks were great. He was very attentive husband, always helping and telling me he loved me, begging me to have his baby. I thank God to this day that He never let me have a baby in that marriage. I have always wanted to be a mommy and truthfully still do although Mother Nature said it’s past my time. He knew how desperately I wanted a baby so he used that as a hook to keep me reeled in. We tried to have that baby. He would walk in the door, drop to his knees and pat my tummy asking if his baby was in there yet. I don’t know if it was stress or the good Lord above but thankfully no baby ever came.
I tried ending my online affair, but I didn’t. I was having my cake and eating it too. I won’t sugar coat it. I knew I was playing with fire and enjoying myself doing it. One could argue I went a little ‘crazy’ after my mom passed away. I would probably agree. Until! He found an email from my ‘friend’. I completely know I was in the wrong for that entire mess and even though he had no right to hurt me physically, I took that punishment.
To an extent I did deserve, or felt like I deserved, what I got on that deal. I should have ended it with one of them. I felt so wronged for so long that I justified it in my own mind. I did put an end to it this time, for good. But once you lose trust like that, it’s never really yours again. Another lesson learned.
He questioned every call I made or received. He asked why I had on so much makeup. He would randomly search my phone and computer. This part I did deserve… but once you get to the point of going through each other’s things —searching to find something, you should realize it’s already over. I know some get over and move on, but no matter how hard you try or what you even say… it will always be in the back of your mind.
Can I blame him? No, I can’t, but I can say without a doubt that I never physically cheated on my husband. I will have people who don’t believe me and I am okay with that. There’s only one judge for what I have and have not done and He is not on earth. I will answer for all my sins someday, but I won’t answer for them to anyone here.
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