Eschew Obfuscation: Married to the Devil: Rearing His Ugly Head, Part 2
Things were glorious at first. My gut was saying nothing now except that John was the right one. For two months we keep our dating a secret. That just seemed to throw more passion into the raging infernos inside us. We couldn't stand to be away from each other. All we did was go to karate and have sex. And more sex. The feeling was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I knew nothing like this for my first husband and I was blown away.
He made me breakfast in bed with mimosa to drink. He gave me full body massages everyday with special oils he would buy for me. Candies, flowers, and cards were the norm. He always opened the door for me, pulled out my chair at the table, and whispered in my ear continuously how much he loved me. I was treated like a queen. He worshipped my body like it was gold.
When we were not exploring each others bodies we were at karate. We ate, slept, drank, and breathed karate. It was the other love of our lives. John only worked part time at UPS in the very early morning hours. I had a part time job as a waitress during a lunch time rush. This left plenty of time for our two favorite sports. My children were very young at the time and stayed with my parents mostly. My parents were ecstatic about the relationship. They had met John and thought he would be the perfect husband for me. They did everything they could to help the relationship move along as fast as possible. The sooner we moved out of their house, the better.
At karate John and I would look across the room and smile at each other trying not to let on to anyone about our relationship. Some had questions anyway because we worked out so closely together. After class we would be the only ones to run together. After running he would teach me how to use the speed ball and the double end striking ball. He was one of the few in the school that could use his hands as well as his feet. Before long I was one of them too. When we sparred we sparred hard together. That was the way I wanted it. I wanted to be the best I could. There were a lot a women who came to the school and insisted the no contact rule be enforced but I was not one of them. I loved to get out there and mix it up with the guys. I wanted to be pushed so I would get better. I took a lot of licks for it too.
After two months we got caught kissing in public by another black belt and the cat was out of the bag. We got a good talking to from the head teacher at the school but John was too valuable a teacher to lose over our relationship. Shortly after I enrolled my kids in classes. John had no children but I had watched him teach the kids at the school and he was extraordinary with them. Always playing with them and making them laugh. My kids loved him.
Eventually the four of us started acting like a family. John's house was three bedrooms and we would spend weekends with him when Daniel didn't have to be in school. He was in first grade then.
He seemed like a natural father. A better one than their real father, who never paid child support and missed half the weekends he was suppose to spend with them. John read to them while they sat in his lap, carried them on walks around the neighbor hood with the dog, helped them to make friends with the neighbors, and even carried them to the park to teach them ball while I would be fixing supper or at work. Their own father had never done these things with them. All he ever did was run off with his hunting buddies to get drunk and stoned. A few days later he would show back up again.
I guess we had all been hanging out for about three months when I started noticing the little things again. John had old, ratty furniture. One day my son, Daniel, sat on the arm of the couch and John yelled at him to get off. This blew me over. It wasn't a big deal when he wanted me propped up on the arm so he could find a different position to have sex with me. I was so surprised it was like someone had literally kicked me in the gut. Daniel didn't weigh but seventy five pounds and was definitely not hurtingÂ the already torn couch. I'll never forget poor little Daniel's eyes. They got as big as grapefruits.
More and more I noticed how he would be fine one moment and then just blow a fuse the next without any warning. I just kept blowing it off. Mainly because it was always at me. I had explained to him the night he yelled at Daniel that you just couldn't go off on kids like that and that I wouldn't have it.
I could never pinpoint what sat the tantrums off. He would scream at me, stomp, and slam a door on his way out. Then in fifteen minutes he was always back apologizing. "I'm so sorry. I love you. It's not your fault. Blah, blah, blah." I fell for it every time. I wanted a family. I wanted a home.
After one year of dating, in July, he ask me to marry him. He wanted us to get married at once so Daniel would have time to settle in before school started. My daughter would still be too young for school but he would be able to watch her while I worked. I was more than ready and the four of us went to the court house that day. I knew my parents would be overjoyed. They could drink themselves into oblivion now. And they were way to far into their alcoholism to even try and bother with a wedding.
A few months into our marriage I finally received my black belt. Saying I was elated is an understatement. It was a large school with hundreds of students and black belts were highly respected. Then it happened. One night John and I were sparring like we normally did. Hard. Of course he always blocked or dodged everything I threw. I guess he had been training me too well, though. That night my side kick actually slipped past his block and landed against his ribs. Barely touching him. But people were watching and awed because someone, his wife of all people, had managed to get one threw on him. I was so happy and thought he would be the same because he had taught me so well. NOT. I stood in shock with a smile on my face for just a second and WHAM! It was all a blur. He kicked me so fast and so hard with a side kick in retaliation that it knocked me back quite a few feet, taking the wind out of me. I had taken a lot of hard licks at that school and never cried before that night. But this time he was my husband. He was kicking me out of pure spite and my guard was down. His precious ego had been hurt. The next day when I still found it difficult to breath I went to the doctor and got an x-ray. My first broke rib.
He came home from work with his head hung low. Not knowing how I was going to react. At this time I still had fight left in me. He inquired how I was doing and I gave him the cold shoulder. He cried for a first and then did his usual song and dance. I told him to go to hell. He promised it would never happen again and that we would just spar other people. I knew this was a cop out. When I addressed him on that his eyes glazed over in anger. I didn't appear to be the dumb blond he thought he had married as rational verbiage spewed from my mouth. For the first time I honestly became frightened. His blond eyebrows glowed like smoldering embers about to burst into flames against his crimson face. I was lying on the couch. He started pacing the living room. First he punched a whole in the wall above the television. Then in the wall beside the fireplace all the while babbling complete nonsense. Walking toward me, my heart sped up as he leaned forward and swung. Thankfully punching a whole in the wall right above my head, barely missing the couch. I did not understanding what he was trying to say. It was like he was talking in tongues almost. I laid there looking at him perplexed and silent. I began to clarify by asking questions when he eschewed obfuscation by walking out the door and running home to momma. Momma lived five miles down the road.
To be continued where the real violence starts.
If you missed the beginning read, "Married to the Devil: The Dating Game".