I began to study my bible while Nel was at work. I began to talk to my sister and learn, for the first time in my life, the truth of God’s salvation and grace, a concept that seemed so out of reach in my mind. Though, I could say with much ease, “This is what I believe…” and have much aligned with what the bible teaches, my heart was far from understanding and accepting to these truths, and my doubt in God’s love for me was such a second nature that I, myself, couldn't even detect it.
What a heart, so full of foolishness and betrayal, I had within me. I can’t remember the exact moment that I finally surrendered, ultimately, to Christ and His great mercy, but I remember there being a great change. I could no longer lay next to this man that was not my husband. It was as though I was drowning when I sinned. With my faith still weak, I also didn't feel like I could leave him, as I had two little babies and no job, it didn't seem practical in my mind.
My compromise was to remain in the home if he would go to church with me, and also that we get married. I didn't want to spend my life with this man, but as I already felt trapped, I felt like a marriage would at least solve some of the immorality of the relationship. (There I go, "solving" my own problems again.) He said that we would marry “soon”, and to just be patient and not press him about it. My response was that in the meantime, there would no longer be any physical relationship prior to marriage. He disagreed, and in my ignorance, I thought that I would simply avoid him until we were able to marry. As this was such a faulty plan, he simply took from me what I was no longer willing to give him. It wasn't until then that my eyes began to truly see him for what he was.
He was a predator. A darkness hid behind his eyes, and yet got bolder every day, and I became fearful that this darkness would overtake me. His power over me grew, as did the wounds in my heart.
There were several times over the year or so that I spent with him that I would pack up, asking my parents to come and get us, as I had no car. (His promise to buy me a new car was never fulfilled. I would later come to find out that he was the one who had been responsible for my car being vandalized soon after we began dating, and water being poured in the gas tank, rendering it useless as I had no money to repair it. He wanted me to be in need, so that he could easily make himself into the one that I needed.) Between my fear, and his
Finally, N was born. I had a c-section. Nel and I had already talked about how I would be unable to perform the usual tasks around the home, and he acted completely understanding about that fact. I remember the day that N and I got to go home. I was looking forward to the rest, home from the hospital, cuddling this sweet little baby, and watching B love on his new baby brother. I walked in the door and sat down, holding both B and N in my lap, having it sink in for the first time what a situation I had in front of me… two babies, and no husband. I wasn't sitting for five minutes before Nel came in the door, set my bags on the floor and said, “You know, this house is looking like a mess. Maybe you can take care of that for me, sweetie.” He winked, and left the room. I wasn't sure if he was serious, until he came back and confirmed that, in fact, he was, and that it was almost time to start cooking dinner. My heart sank, hitting me in the gut, pulling a dark cloud over my head. I felt as if I had just brought this brand new baby into a home filled with darkness. It didn't take two days of cleaning and cooking, nursing N, and chasing after B, before my incision had broken open, a pain beyond anything I could ever imagine, and yet, still, I was told to “stop letting the house get so messy”. He finally allowed me to go to the doctor, and only then did he believe that I was, in fact, in need of rest, and he backed off a bit.
It wasn't long before the drinking began to pick up again. It would last for literal days at a time. He was a binge drinker. He would remain sober for no more than 6 weeks at a time, and then a solid 2-4 days of pure, aggravated drunkenness would ensue. Soon enough, the sober periods grew shorter, and the drunken rages became worse, wrecking cars, and hiding waitresses phone numbers in his wallet, spitefully waking the children throughout the night, wanting to take them for a drive. He was becoming so aggressive that I couldn't sleep at night, even when he was sober. I felt as though I had to "stand guard", sure that he had plans to hurt myself or the boys. It was a feeling I couldn't shake.
Time dragged by as his drinking became worse and worse, he was often driving drunk, coming home and telling me stories of the harm that he had done to the men that he had fought with any given night. I was becoming afraid, confident that he was capable of acting on his threats, though his aggression hadn't yet turned violent.
However, six weeks after N was born, he let me know that he was ready to get married. By this time, I was already deep in prayers for an escape, even though my feet were still unwilling to move, and his “proposal” not only came as a shock, but also a disappointment, as I was truly hoping that he would tire of me and just throw us out on his own accord. Apparently, that wasn't his plan. He intended to marry me and move us all to Guatemala, his home country. After much fighting, we finally went for a marriage license, and the following Saturday, we went to meet with a Justice of the Peace who was willing to marry us over the weekend. As we arrived, my two sweet boys in the back seat, I couldn't even get out of the car. We were parked right beside the Justice of the Peace and his wife, who had just arrived to his office a moment before us, and I began to sob uncontrollably. I was trembling. I was so afraid, my heart screaming, “You don’t have to do this.” As I unraveled, Nel got nervous that someone would see me, and so he backed up the car and drove around to the other side of the building. I begged him not to make me do this.
He took a deep breath. He was grinding his teeth, but wouldn't say a word. Finally, he shifted in his seat and turned around to look at the boys… my boys… and, after another deep breath, he looked me in the eye and calmly said, “If you don’t want to marry me, then I won’t make you… but, you need to say goodbye to your boys, because they stay with me, whether you like it or not. You can leave right now, but you will never see these boys again.”
Again, I wasn't sure how serious his threat was, until I challenged it. He smiled as he informed me that he had already told his family in Guatemala how many problems he was having with me, and that his mother would be happy to raise my children as her own if it came to that. This man came into the country illegally, and in my heart, I felt very sure that he was not afraid to leave that way, with my boys in tow.
Twenty minutes later, we were married.
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment