I am about to confess something very few people know, I am not sure if my brothers know or even some of my close friends. I think I told my mom at one point but I figured it was about time to confess something that happened to me that changed the way I look at relationships. In order to tell the story I have to go back to about 1987-1988.
I was about 19 and I had been dating Terry for about two years. Ours was a strange relationship and, at times at least toward the end, rather volatile. Alcohol was always part of the equation as were his friends. We very rarely went out alone and when we did, the evening always ended at the bar with his friends or at someone’s house with a six-pack or a bottle of vodka. I started drinking very heavy by this point, as did the rest of the guys, and it was nothing for us to go to the bar anytime during the week and drop $20 each on the table. We would drink until it was gone and throw out some more cash. One night a week soon became five or six. I was working, but I never had any money. I was drinking so heavily that I started blacking out. I would wake up in the morning hung over and unable to remember where we had been, what we had done, or even what time I had come home.
It was at this time that a group of friends started reaching out to me. We would go out for coffee and discuss the church youth group, as they were members and wanted me to join. But, inevitably the evening would end with Terry and his friends joining us because, unbeknownst to us, he and the guys would follow us around for hours. These were the days of cruising main street, which everyone did, so it wasn’t hard to find anyone and keep out of their sight. My friends became concerned about my drinking and my relationship and tried to get me to come to meetings. I refused. I was confused. I couldn’t figure out why they thought I needed to go some religious meeting. I didn’t realize that the youth group was a place where I could just hang out and have fun. Yes, religion was a big part, but so was friendship which I desperately needed.
This all came to a head in December of ’88. I was drinking so much I was making myself sick. I wasn’t eating, I was calling in sick to work, I was arguing with my parents about why I never had any money. Terry had a brother whose leukemia had come out of remission and it was making him act so “weird”. I was angry with myself and everyone around me. I was angry with God for not being there for me. I was angry with my parents for not understanding that drinking was the only way I could control what was happening in my life, or so I thought. I was alone that evening (mom and dad had gone out). I had gone out drinking with Terry and his friends in the afternoon. He was drunk and kept telling everyone that if his brother died he would kill himself (I thought it was only alcohol but soon learned it was more than that). He had turned to me and said “If I go, you’ll be there with me right?” It was at this point his friends took me home as this made us all uncomfortable. When I got home I decided I wanted to end it. I wanted it to be over. I wanted everyone to hurt the way I was hurting. My relationship, my life in general, was not all roses and happy feelings like TV made it out to be.
I went into the kitchen and got a knife and the only pills I could find, a bottle of extra strength Tylenol. I pulled out a bottle of some kind of booze to wash the pills down with and I was ready. I was going to end it all. That’s when things got really weird. I had the TV on and I was sitting in the living room, with my cat on my lap, crying and trying to figure out which way was the fastest when I heard a voice say “Call her.” I turned down the tv volume and picked up the knife and I heard the voice again, louder this time “CALL HER”. Call who? Was what I was thinking. I picked up the pills and this time it was like someone was inside my head yelling “CALL HER”. I was crying, yelling out “Call who?”, my cat was looking at me like I was nuts and just then the phone rang. I answered it and it was my friend from the youth group. She asked if I was okay and I told her no. Her next words were “We (she and another close friend) were sitting here and all of a sudden both of else felt the need to call and see if you were okay. We will be there soon.” I put the knife, the pills and the booze away, hugged my cat and waited. We went directly to the church to a Youth Group meeting and everything changed from that time forward. I have always been told that the Lord works in mysterious ways and, if you believe that as I do, then you know that the voice I heard and the feelings my friends had were from someone who wanted me to survive.
I joined the youth group and I continued to date Terry. His brother had passed away during this time and he changed, mentally. His attitude toward both myself and his friends changed. We would all go for days without hearing from him, and then he would just pop up or call out of the blue. He became quiet and withdrawn, would talk to himself, or he would become violent at the drop of a hat. He would say he would pick me up at 7 pm and either not show up at all or show up at 11pm. No apologies, no explanation, nothing. On the nights he would pick me up, we would go out in silence. There would be no talking unless he didn’t like the way I “looked” at another guy. Then the questions would start…”Do you know him?” “Did you go out with him when I wasn’t around?” “When did you sleep with him?” I started backing off. He was so different then he was before. I couldn’t go out with my friends without him calling me the next day telling me he knew where I had been, what I had done and who I had talked to. Valentine’s Day, 1988, was the beginning of the end.
He had called me, told me he was sorry for the way he had been acting, told me that he was having a very hard time dealing with his brother’s death and that he wanted to take me out for a wonderful Valentine’s Day. He picked me up at five wearing a suit and tie, he handed me a box of chocolates before I left the house and there were a dozen pink and red roses waiting for me in the car. He had also bought me a CD and a necklace. We went to the Tower Restaurant for supper and he couldn’t have been more attentive. It was when we left the restaurant that things changed. We started driving around looking for his friends at about 9 pm. We passed each other numerous times, but instead of trying to get their attention by honking or waving, he simply got more and more angry. When I asked what the problem was he told me to “Shut the F*** up!” Without thinking I reached over, the next time I saw his buddies, and honked the horn to get their attention. He flew off the handle. He hit the brakes in the middle of the road, leaving cars skidding and honking at him, only to look at me and say “If you do anything like that again, I’ll hurt you so bad!” Needless to say I was both shocked and scared.
We met up with his buddies about 10 minutes later and he acted like nothing had happened and held on to my hand so tight I thought he would break my fingers. We went to a friend’s place to play cards and have a few drinks and he kept disappearing out back with a few guys I had never met. I know, I should have realized the signs of drug use right? I was naive and stupid. This guy, whom I loved, quit doing drugs the night he met me because he heard me say I would never date a guy who was high, right? How was I to know? Anyway, he took me home and on the way he kept apologizing. It was at this time he said he had a confession to make. He had smoked pot at his brother’s wake and was out smoking weed the nights he didn’t show up for dates. He was smoking weed this night as well but he would quit if I wouldn’t leave. Again, being naive, I said I wouldn’t if he promised it was the last time. He did and things started getting better, or so I thought.
About two months later we went to a party on somebody’s farm. It was a grad party in a quonset and everyone was there. I would say at least 200 people if not more. It was busy and I didn’t really like crowds so I hung out with some people in the corner while he hung out with his friends. He wasn’t drinking that evening, but at one point he came up to me and a small group of his friends very glassy-eyed. He was standing there, staring at me, clenching and unclenching his fists, I could see he was angry but didn’t know why. I asked what was wrong and he told me to “Shut the F*** up.” One of his buddies asked what his problem was and he accused me of trying to sleep with him. When I asked what the hell he was talking about, he accused me of sleeping with all his friends and all the guys in the place. It was at this point that there was a lull in the music and of course everyone heard. I was embarrassed and started crying, and no, I wasn’t drinking. Fortunately for me, one of his friends talked him into taking me home, but wouldn’t let him take me alone. He refused to let anyone else drive, so I sat in the middle while his buddy sat in the passenger seat. We took off out of the yard like we were in a race, I asked why he was mad and made the accusations he did and he didn’t answer. So I finally said he needed to pull over and let his buddy drive that’s when it happened. Out of nowhere, he looked at me, made a fist and tried to punch me in the face, had his buddy not put his arm around me and pulled me toward the passenger seat I would have been hit in the face and not softly in the arm. He stopped the car and got out, challenged his buddy to a fight, his buddy knocked him to the ground and put him in the back seat and drove me home apologizing the whole way. Blaming everything on his brother’s death.
That was a turning point for me. I had never been in a volatile relationship before (he was my first boyfriend) and wanted to get out but how could I do it without making him more angry, without hurting his feelings or hurting me. I started distancing myself from him slowly. I would lie and say something was up if he wanted to go out as just a couple but I would go along if there was a group, always finding a way home by myself. I had accepted a school friend’s invitation to be his escort for a family wedding and because my boyfriend was out-of-town I jumped at the chance. Little did I know this would come back to haunt me. Terry and I went out the following weekend and I decided to tell him I wanted to break up. We went out driving around and I told him I wasn’t in love with him anymore and that I had no more feelings for him. He kept asking why and said he had to make a confession. That’s when he told me he had been buying vials of coke as well as smoking weed. He had been drinking and had been “talking” to his dead brother who had been telling him to end his life. I felt sorry for him but what could I do. I told him I never wanted to see him again and that maybe we could remain friends if he straightened out his life. He said we were meeting up with his friends and begged me not to tell them we were breaking up, because he wanted to do it. I did what he asked, went to a movie, went for coffee, went to play cards and pretended we were one, big happy couple. At the end of the night, as he was taking me home, he had the audacity to ask when he would see me again. I asked if he forgot that I didn’t want to see him anymore and he replied with “you’re not serious, you were just angry, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I told him no, I didn’t have feelings for him anymore and not to call.
For the next three weeks I received many phone calls. Most were of him begging me to come back and telling me he was sorry. Some were just him crying, I could hear him sobbing but he wouldn’t talk. He sent me letters and poems telling me he was going to kill himself. One of his friends actually called and asked if I would meet with him to talk so I did. Terry told me he knew about me going to the wedding and that one of his friends had seen us “together”. He said that he had been following me and proceeded to pull out a notebook. He could tell me where I had been at any given time, who I talked to, what I wore, who I was with and even what I was talking about. It scared the crap out of me but it also made me angry. I told him my friend was just a friend and his buddy was lying because he wanted to cause trouble. I also told him I had moved on and was looking forward to going to school in the Fall. He told me he loved me forever and was ready to let me go. I don’t know why I never called the police or told anyone. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was my naiveté, or maybe deep down I knew he would never hurt me. I was so done with everything.
This wasn’t what I had intended to write about when I sat down at the computer today but my fingers simply wouldn’t stop. It has been 28 years since we broke up and 25 years since I last saw him. I never had that “what if” moment some people say they have, at least not a good “what if” moment. I know what would have/could have happened had I stayed so I don’t dwell on it. I have heard over the years that he had conversations “from beyond” with his brother. That his brother would repeatedly tell him he was better off dead. He had some deeply hidden secrets, some very dark secrets that he told me and that I have never shared with anyone and I won’t today. I firmly believe that it was because of these secrets he was the way he was and I hope he has found some sort of peace with his past. I found peace when I broke up with him in April of that year. I met my future husband that July and never looked back.
This is MOM WITH WORDS and I am outta here.
momwithwords 