I’d never seen such hate in his eyes before. The weak part of me briefly wonders what occurred in the office today for him to be in such an awful mood. The strong part of me knows that it doesn’t matter what happened in his day. There is no rhyme or reason to his anger toward me. But if he keeps it centered on me and away from Jack, I will take it on forever.
I have still barely spoken, trying not to engage him and make his anger flare up even further. I have learned over time what makes these moments worse.
“You,” he spits, the smell of whiskey strong, causing my stomach to churn. He knows how I feel about alcohol because he witnessed first hand what it did to my mother. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. Nothing you do is right. Maybe I should just take Jack and find him a new mom. He’d be better off without you. We both would.”
I narrow my eyes as his hold on my neck loosens just slightly. A sinister smile takes over his face and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to not spit out the angry words that are resting on my tongue. “Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do. Even one of my whores would be a better mom to him than you,” he says with such pride and arrogance, like it would hurt me to hear that he’d slept with other people while he’s been married to me. As if I didn’t already know, or assume, anyway. When in fact, it’s the one single reason why I insist he continues to use condoms. I told him my doctor didn’t want me on the pill anymore because it messed up my hormones too much and in a shocking moment of caring, he said it was fine. Though, if I think about it, it was probably his own selfish reason.
I don’t know where the strength comes from, or why I choose this moment, probably from the threat of losing Jack, because I will do anything… anything… to keep him safe. He is the only good in my life. But for the first time in years, I find my voice. The one in the back of my mind that’s been screaming for attention.
“Over my dead body,” I said with as much power as my voice would carry.
“That would be a blessing,” he says with a smile that makes my stomach churn. He’s never spoken to me with this much hatred before. Shock isn’t a strong enough word for what I’m feeling in this moment.
Instead of hitting the mark he obviously aimed for, having me cower and succumb to his words and tuck my tail, it’s like someone switched a light inside my head, opening my eyes and making me realize this doesn’t have to be my life. I can change my life course. I can stand against someone who gets his rocks off belittling another human being. I can demand something better for myself and my son.
I still have fight left in me. I just didn’t realize it until he pushed that final button. I’m like a sail that was once falling limp against its mast, and suddenly a gust of wind blows, the material billowing and propelling the boat forward. It spreads my wings and gives me the strength I need to move on.
I reach up, grab his hand that’s still wrapped around my neck, and push him off me before he realizes I’m not going to let him win this round. I yank my other arm free of his and spit in his face. “You bastard. You think you’re some big man? You want Jack to treat his wife like this someday? You think this is the way a man acts? You’re nothing but a coward.”
He looks stunned for a moment. Whether it’s because I spat at him or I was finally finding my voice, I don’t know. But it allows me a moment to take one more step away. Too bad it isn’t far enough.
“You bitch!” he shouts at me, and before I can process what is about to happen, he backhands me with such force my head jerks sideways, and I see stars. The pain radiates through my head and down my arms.
When I turn my head to face him once more, the anger I had seen in his eyes earlier that I didn’t think could be matched is only burning hotter.
“See what you made me do?! You know, I didn’t think you could be more pathetic than you already were, but now you’re proving me wrong!” he shouts in my face.
My heart pounds, my head throbbing in pain, but the fear that I feel down to my bones in this moment was something I have never experienced. Not even when my mom picked me up from school when I was fifteen years old, completely wasted. I pleaded with her to let me drive us home, but she kept driving as if she didn’t even hear me. I almost kissed the garage floor when she pulled us in safely.
But the rage I see in Vince petrifies me, not only for my own safety. Because when I move my eyes from his face just slightly, what I see makes my heart stop and bile rise in my throat.
My precious boy, my Jack, at thirteen years old, is standing on the other side of the room with shock and fear and a little bit of confusion in his eyes. Jack is an early bloomer, already a few inches taller than I, and a good twenty pounds heavier, but right now, he looks far younger, far smaller, than he is. I have no idea how long he’s been there, what he has heard or seen.
Everything happens so fast. Before I can reassure Jack, or tell Vince that Jack is there to get him to stop, he grabs me by the neck once more, but this time with more purpose. He lifts my body off the ground and with more strength than I realize he possesses, he presses my back up against the wall, my legs hanging lifelessly. I scratch at his arms, only causing him to become angrier with me, to use more force. He swiftly moves, and the next thing I know, I’m landing with a thud, the pain that I felt earlier not a match for what I am feeling now. He threw me halfway across the room, my head barely missing the corner of the brick surrounding the base of the fireplace.
Three thoughts cross my mind. First, Jack and I have to get out. Second is Jack just witnessed that. The third? Never. Again.
“Mom!” Jack screams, coming to my side and touching me with gentle hands. I can hear terror in his voice as he holds my limp body against his trembling one, whispering and mumbling words close to my ear. I try in vain to sit up, but the pain is radiating through my entire body. I had never imagined the one to make me feel safe would be my teenage son but, I have never felt safer.
Still I know, deep down, that if I stay, if I don’t fight for us, it will never end, and eventually it will turn on Jack. Part of me, the nasty part, feels a little grateful Jack had seen it. It makes me feel stronger, that much more determined, and honestly, I don’t know if I would have found the strength otherwise. I fear I would have endured anything in order to keep Jack safe, to keep his life normal.
Still crouched beside me, Jack turns his body toward Vince. He holds up his hand when he sees Vince advancing in our direction.
“Get away from her,” Jack says in a voice much stronger, deeper, louder than I have ever heard from him. “Get the hell away from her!” he repeats louder. “You don’t touch her again. Ever!”
“Jack, we were just messing around,” my idiot of a husband says with a wave of his hand and roll of his eyes, trying to explain away his actions.
“Really? That’s the excuse you’re going with right now? I don’t see you crumpled in a heap after being beaten by someone over twice the size of you!”
“Boy…” Vince starts toward my son, and that is when I know. Like a wrecking ball had toppled over every last bit of hope that I have for my marriage, with Jack’s help, I stand on shaky legs and turn to face the man I once pledged my life to.
“You touch him… I’ll kill you. I won’t hesitate. You bastard,” I say with a shaky voice that I try to will away, but my body’s reaction to everything that just happened can’t be helped. “We’re done. Never again. You won’t touch me again. You won’t speak to me again. You won’t speak to Jack…”