He Loved Her... - Writers Forum

adela · 07-08-2007, 12:13 AM

He Loved Her…

He felt numb. It was not because of the cold winter air which he left outside as he walked through the doorway, letting the heavy wooden door close behind him; the numbness stemmed from his lack of feeling due to his state of mind, and essentially his state of health. This undoubtedly was not his first visit to the locale and he was certain that it would not be his last. His boots scuffed against the floor as he made his way over to the tall stool, and upon taking a seat the bartender stood before him. He removed a folded bill from his coat pocket and slid it across the bar and muttered “Rum, and keep ‘em comin’.”

The bartender obliged and placed the drink in front of him. Without saying another word, he wrapped his calloused hand around the glass, lifted it to his lips and emptied it as quickly as the bartender had poured it. This process repeated until finally the clank of his fifth glass returning to the counter seemed to jolt him from his daze. He glanced down at the drink, only to see the ice rattling from the shaking of his hand. He closed his eyes, trying to recall exactly why he had come, what he felt, and how it had gone this far. He asked those questions time and time again, yet never found the answers. Unsatisfied with his incapability to answer the questions that crossed his mind he ordered another drink. This time, when he raised the glass to his lips, he was not doing it because he was void of feeling, but instead because he was attempting to numb the pain. He gazed around the bar room, his eyes rarely meeting those of another sullen face which frequented this place.

He needed to leave and get some fresh air before he fell into a drunken stupor and remained there all night. He stumbled out the door and onto the street. The cold wind made him clench his tattered jacket closer to him. With glazed and foggy eyes he tried to spot a cab. He finally succeeded in flagging down a taxi. Once he told the driver his address, he sat and leaned his head against the cool window. While driving down the busy street they passed many couples walking hand in hand. He couldn’t help but think about his own beautiful wife whom he had left crying at home. Oh how things had changed since the beginning of their love. His mind drifted, recalling that wonderful, yet fateful night.

It was a Friday night; they were at the company Christmas party. She looked stunning in her long red dress; he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Three years had passed since they fist met and his love had only grown stronger. His hand reached into his jacket pocket and grasped the small box he had been carrying for weeks. ‘Tonight is the night’, he thought to himself and made his way over to his love. When he found her amongst the crowd of coworkers and friends, he took her hand and smiled. At that moment the music changed from upbeat, and she pulled him onto the dance floor. Wrapping her arms around his neck she couldn’t help but lean up to him and give him a kiss. As other couples crowded around to share the slow dance as well, he pulled away from her and dropped to one knee. She let out a gasp. The people closest to them stopped dancing and soon after the music was turned low.

She had tears in her eyes as he took her hand and began to speak the words which he had rehearsed time and time again. “Rachel, with you I am at peace with myself, and the world. I could not make it through one day without your love. Will you marry me?”
There was silence, he held and opened the small box revealing a beautiful diamond ring and waited for her to speak. Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh Chris, yes, yes I’ll marry you.”

He stood up and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him and kissing her deeply. Everyone in the room clapped as the newly engaged couple held each other close.

Over the years things had changed drastically; he’d be a fool not to recognize that. His compassion changed to cruelty. His support became overbearing control. He loved her, he was sure of that, but his love was no longer comforting. His wife had lost the sparkle in her eye that she used to have every time she saw him. She no longer waited eagerly for him to return home, but instead dreaded that moment. Almost everyone, friends and family, were blind to the abuse that took place time and time again in their home. She turned to no one for help, and no one reached to her. In hopes to maintain their marriage, they started a family. For a short time it had helped, in some ways. The physical abuse dwindled, yet the emotional abuse amplified. Last night had been evidence that in the end, it had been a failed attempt and her body was marred with reminders of that. He trembled slightly as he recalled the all-too-familiar occurrence.

“I’m tired of it Chris! I’m done! I’ve let you treat me this way for too long and I will not stand around and let the kids go through the same thing!”” she screamed as she grabbed the bottle from his hands and threw it to the floor. It shattered leaving puddles of liquor and shards of glass in disarray.

The children sat at the top of the stairs, watching the shadows of their parents travel throughout the home. The twelve-year old boy held his little sister’s hand trying to calm her and stop the tears.

That wasn’t the first fight they had witnessed, but it was certainly the first time they heard their mother stand up to that monster. Half the time, they didn’t view him as their father. All the other children’s father’s didn’t yell all day and drink all night. They weren’t scared of going over to their friends’ houses. To them, he was a monster, one they wanted to hide in their closet. They never talked to, or about their dad.

The boy, Michael could handle these brawls more than his younger sister could. She would cry and shake every time, and he spent many nights holding her hand as she tried to quiet her mind and go to sleep. He often wondered what his dad was like before he started drinking. Would he have been proud if he known how grownup and strong he had become for his sister. Did he really love them? Did he love their mother? Was he sorry? Was he aware of what he was doing to them? How much he had hurt them all? Was he ever going to change?

“You aren’t going anywhere!” he barked as he grabbed her by the arm and pushed her against the wall. “They’re my kids too and you know I have never laid a finger on them!”

“Bull shit! Just last week you smacked Michael until he screamed! You can’t do this Chris, not anymore! I won’t let you. I won’t let you ruin us more than you already have!” she retorted.

“Stop screaming!” he said as he struck his wife. Her eyes closed tightly as the sting of his hand covered her cheek. “I wouldn’t have to act like this if you were a half decent wife and mother!”

“Fu——” The words didn’t have a chance to pass her lips before his hand landed against her face once more. She sobbed and fell to the floor. He wasn’t done yet. He reached down, grabbing her long blonde hair and threw her against the table legs. Plates and the remnants of the dinner she cooked to try and please her husband fell to the floor. He knelt down and grabbed her throat.

“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again! You aren’t going anywhere! You’ll have no one! No one’s gonna want a bitch like you, and I’ll take those kids from you in seconds, then we’ll see who’s sorry.” His voice was hoarse and the smell of alcohol sickened her when he spoke.

When he let her go, she crawled away from him and watched him storm out of the house. As the door slammed her children ran to her, clinging to her feeble body. Her son wiped her tear stained face as he worried about how soon his father would return.

His eyes welled with tears as they drove into the quiet suburban neighborhood. His alcohol induced high was beginning to fade and he was filled with remorse and anger towards himself. He hated so much to return home and see his family, afraid of him. His own children trembling whenever he moved too near to them. Every time he became sober he was filled with regret for what he had done. He couldn’t blame them; however when in his drunken rages, he could never hold back the abuse in hopes to save what little chance his family still had left.

He gazed out the window at all the homes they passed. Each of them seemed to possess something which declared just how normal the family sleeping cozily inside truly was, until they reached his house. As the cab stopped, all he could do was stare. In that very moment he realized that his home held something as well; however it was not an indicator of how normal the family was, but instead, of how dysfunctional it had come to be… it was him.

How could he have been so blind for years? He was digging himself a grave and pulling them down with him. ‘Bastard’ he mumbled to himself and sat in the backseat, still and silent. What could he do? Was he really going to walk into the home reeking of alcohol and going about life as if things were fine? Did he really believe that it wouldn’t happen again? How long would she put up with it before he lost everything he had?

He couldn’t do it anymore, and he knew that now. He loved his wife and children to death, but he could not walk through those doors knowing that it may come to exactly that; death. That newfound revelation made him decide to step away, and let his family, the family he had been destroying for years, finally get a chance to fit in, and be normal. He had no idea of what lay ahead for him, but he knew a brighter future would be waiting for them. With tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat, he told the cab driver to keep going. He never looked back.