Page 20 of Finally Mine
Aldo swore. He knew Luke well enough to know the man wasn’t talking metaphorical scars.What was it with fuckers hurting women?“And you’d do anything to make it better, but you don’t know how to help,” he surmised. Aldo was well acquainted with that brand of helplessness.
“Exactly.” Luke gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. “Fact is, I just don’t have room in my life for her.”
“You’ve got the room. You’re just too chickenshit to make it.” Checkmate.
Aldo had lived the last ten years in fear of doing something that would get Gloria hurt…again. And he planned to spend the rest of his life making sure no one ever hurt her again.
11
I’m here because someone—a friend—suggested I should talk about…it. I’ve never been to therapy before. Am I doing it right? Ha.
I don’t really know where to start. I mean. I know what happened. I know why it happened. But I really don’t know if talking about it is going to help anything… It was ten years. How can I summarize ten years?
I’m living with my mom. It’s temporary until I can find a job, a place to live. She bought all these books over the years about abusive relationships, the psychology of them, how to help, what not to do. She was studying up on how to help me when the time came.
My dad abandoned us. I get that I was hungry for strong male attention. I really get how slow and subversive the pattern of abuse can be. I was the lobster in the pot. I didn’t know it was boiling until all of my options were gone.
He was my first real boyfriend, and things were so…intense. I was a sophomore dating a senior. I was suddenly someone. He made me feel like I was the center of his world. And he was everything I needed. He slowly, systematically took the place of my friends, my family. He was so possessive and jealous, and I’m ashamed to say that, at first, I liked it.
I thought it meant he really cared.
He told me he loved me on our second date. God. Neither one of us knew what that word even meant. Istilldon’t know what that word means. But now I know what it doesn’t mean.
He hit me for the first time a few months into our relationship. It was the summer after he graduated. I don’t know what set him off. Though I eventually became quite adept at predicting what would set him off.
He was so apologetic after it happened. He cried, said it was an accident. Promised it would never happen again. I could make him feel better, by forgiving him. I had the power.
I didn’t have the right lines or boundaries. I didn’t know that hitting shouldn’t betheline. Restraining, pushing, controlling, being disrespectful should be the line. But by the time he hit me, I was already so isolated. My mother and I were barely speaking. She couldn’t stand watching me lose myself to this person. She woke me up the morning after Glenn hit me, put me in the car, and drove me to my grandparents’ house for a “spontaneous visit.”
I was terrified Glenn would think I left him. I called him as soon as we got there, apologizing. Telling him we were still good. I was so scared. I didn’t know what he’d do.
He came after me. He brought me flowers. He picked me up and drove me home. My mother watched us pull away… It was like we were saying goodbye.
He didn’t hit me again for two years. I thought we were in love. I believed that it was a one-time thing. He wanted me to drop out of school, said he couldn’t stand me being around all those other people. He wanted me to spend all my time with him.
We were having sex, and it was getting rougher. Less…romantic. He would put up a fuss every time I said I was going to a football game or hanging out with friends. It got easier to give in. We’d fight. He’d grab me, leave fingerprints. Once he tripped me in front of his friends because he saw me talking to one of them. But it was always easier to accommodate him. I needed him. He made me feel special, important.
I’d never been everything to someone before, not even my mom…
She’s so strong. So brave. Being just a mom wasn’t enough. She wanted a whole, colorful life. That’s not a statement on how she felt about me or my worth. I get that now. Being a mom wasn’t enough for her, but I made being Glenn’s girlfriend everything that I needed.
Things got worse after I graduated. All those old plans for college or fashion school or traveling? They were all gone. I remember everyone else in my class was talking about college applications and financial aid, and I was trying to perfect a fucking meatloaf recipe—sorry—because it was his favorite.
He got a job in the kitchen cabinet factory right out of high school. I moved in with him when I graduated. He made me miss the graduation party my mom threw for me. I was too busy unpacking my stuff in his trailer to see my grandparents and what few friends I had left.
It was around that time that I stopped being special. He had me at his beck and call 24/7. He didn’t need to pursue me anymore. He just needed to keep me locked away.
He timed me when I went to the grocery store or the bank, and if I was a minute later than I had been the last time, he demanded to know why. Who did I talk to? Who was I cheating on him with? Did I want to screw the guy behind the register? He broke my cell phone so I couldn’t talk to anyone. He’d hide my car keys unless I was going somewhere I had permission.
He hit me again. Apologized again. Always apologizing.
His dad drank and beat his wife, so that’s what Glenn did. He drank more, and things got worse. I couldn’t anticipate his moods anymore. He liked that. Liked having me constantly tip-toeing on eggshells. One day he didn’t want to hear me speak. The next day he’d hold me down and choke me if I didn’t say “good morning.” He was in control over another human being.
He raped me once.
I left.
I went to my mother’s and lied. I told her we had a fight. She didn’t believe me. Mothers can see that kind of spiritual damage on their daughter’s souls.
