This week instead of doing my normal Poets&Writers prompt, one of my good friends suggested that we write along the topic of women being oppressed. For me this would be easy, or so I thought, because my friend is male so I figured I’d have an upper hand on this one.
Over the week I wrote and crossed things out, I loved but didn’t want to sound like those old women writers. Virginia Woolf A Room of Ones Own, came to mind, Abigal Adams Absolute Power Over Wives, Mary Wolestonecraft Vindication for the Rights of Women, and Sourjouner Truth Keep Things a Going While Things Are Stirrin, are all great reads on this subject but I wanted to think and take it out of the box.
I wanted to write something from my own experience or from an experience that another women shared with me. Writing this piece became more difficult than I had planned, but the finish story was great. Read and let me know your thoughts and feelings below.
I went home after another long day with him. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I had a day of rest, a break, kind of.
“I’m thinking about buying us tickets for this concert, want to go?” He said.
“What day is it?”
“June 8th, it’s going be in the park, everyone’s going and the tickets are still cheap.”
He remembers nothing I tell him. He doesn’t bother to look at the post it on his wall with my flight information or the itinerary I printed out and stuck on his fridge. I leave to New York in 6 days to start my internship as a PR for this really great magazine. If it goes well I’ll be staying, and if not… we’ll let’s just hope it works out.
“Babe, I love you. But again I will be going out of town for a while, I leave June 4th.”
There had been a long silence.
I watched his face and waited for a response.
He turned pink, then red, he bit down on his bottom lip, and then looked up at me with watery eyes.
“Why do you want to leave me?” He looked down at his hands then up at me.
I tried to keep myself from showing any emotion as I stood there in silence.
I thought about all the times that he hit me with his fist. I thought about all the times when, “Nyla baby” became “Bitch”. I thought about yesterday when he pinned me to the ground with his hand around my throat and his fist in my side. I thought about how I struggled to get away, my head banging back and forth against the cold tile floor. “Stop it, you’ll kill me,” I might have yelled in between gasps for air as he picked me up off the ground by neck. He shouted mean, nasty things as his hand flew freely across my face. “God! Stop it!” I yelled really loudly and he let me go. I shoved him and ran out of his front door. No shoes, none of my belongings, just my life and luckily my house keys.
I thought about how I cried myself to sleep that night with a never ending ringing phone. I thought about pills I took to relieve the headache and the tea I managed to swallow while sitting on my bedroom floor in the dark. I thought about how I promised myself that would be the last time I allowed him to hurt me.
He stared at me puzzled.
“Sweetie,” I said holding his hands in between mine, “I love you, but I have to do what is best for me I-”
He cut me off, “I can be what’s best for you,” he said throwing my hands down, tears coming down his face much faster.
These tears, they are so fake, I trust them just about as much as I trust him, very little. This situation could’ve gone two ways, but my body just couldn’t handle any more.
I walked out of his room and to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Last time I gave him a glass and my fall across his table broke it into pieces cutting my wrist.
“Drink this and let’s talk.” I shouted, not noticing he was standing behind me.
“What are you doing,” I said, memories of last time were all too fresh.
He fell to ground on his knees in hysterical tears. He grabbed my hand and started kissing it then wiping his damp face with it.
I looked down at him; I rubbed my other hand through his long curly black hair, in attempt to calm him down. A sick part of me almost liked him this way, begging for me to stay, helpless. At least I know I did something right. I was never as horrible to him as he was to me.
“Nyla baby, please! I need you, you are my world, my life, through everything I’ve loved you, I’m so sorry,” was his plea.
Who the fuck did he think I was? I thought. Did he think that I was supposed to stay with him any longer and just take the beating, and just take the abuse amongst his infidelity and lies? Does he not remember that two years ago, when we first started dating, that we said that if any kind of abuse starts to happen in our relationship we’d end it? Does he think we can work things out after all of the shit he put me through? I mean, does he really mean and believe what he’s saying?
I was sure I wanted to leave Dr. Reuben, but to see him so hurt about it was something I wasn’t prepared for.
“Baby, you don’t understand,” I said very softly, “I’m not leaving you, I may come back if it doesn’t work out there. I’ll-“
“No you won’t come back, you won’t. You’ll like it out there. You’ll meet someone new. You’ll forget about me.”
He looked up at me; he face was red covered in sweat, slob, and tears.
I felt bad for him.
“Babe, please get off the ground, let’s just go lie back in bed and get some rest, you have to go to work in 3 hours. I love you, let’s make good memories from now on and cherish the time that we have left together. Can we do that please?”
I scraped him and his heart off the ground, grabbed his hand and lead him to his bed. We crawled in and he placed his head on my chest and wrapped his arms around my waist. I inhaled deeply, he exhaled, and we breathed together rhythmically.
I wiped his tears and kissed the top of his head. I rested my head on top of his and began to cry silently as I desperately prayed for a way out.
“Nyla, I’m afraid our session is over, please be careful and do come back tomorrow.”
“Ok Dr., if god willing, I will see you tomorrow.”
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