For those of you who were looking for the blog on my book...weird....I don't know why it wasn't there, but here is the excerpt again.....
The Father of my Child: A Creep
The following account was taken from a paper that I had written in my freshmen English class in college. I will elaborate more in regards to Ray and his alcoholism. While my step father's mother was an alcoholic, it wasn't something discussed among the family and I wasn't taught about it. People who knew Ray tried to tell me he was addict but I was in denial and refused to believe them. I relied on the feelings in my heart. All I understood about Ray was that he had a troubled past and a turbulent childhood. I knew what that felt like so I thought I could save him. I didn't want to change him to be the man I wanted; I simply wanted to show him that he could have a successful life without drugs and booze. I didn't really understand that alcoholism was considered a disease and addicts needed treatment. My inexperience in dealing with that disease combined with an idealistic heart lead me into the situation that I'm about to share.
The Girl in the Mirror
The sun was hot, and I was still recovering from my boyfriend's verbal beat-down from the night before. I sat alone in my hammock thinking about the events of the previous night. Ray came in shouting at me that I was no good to him and I was a horrible mother. It was all I could do not to breathe in the foul odor of whatever alcohol was on his breath when he was yelling in my face. His attacked turned physical as he made his point, this time with a plate of spaghetti flying across the room at me. I moved in time for the red sauce to miss me and splatter across the wall behind our bed. Ray passed out, and I noticed the time was 2 a.m. I scrubbed the sauce's crimson strains off of the white wall. Upon finishing, I slowly washed my hands in the sink and took a long look in the mirror. Ii did not recognize the girl staring back at me. The girl I saw was pathetic. Her eyes, once bright and full of life were now swollen and empty. Hair that was once long and shiny was now dull and matted. Her petite frame resembled her spirit – broken and lost. It was hard for me to believe I was the girl in the mirror, and as I looked at myself, I remembered being a girl who was so strong. I had survived falling down a flight of stairs and getting stitches in my skull when I was five. When I was in third grade, I beamed proudly when I won the school-wide story telling contest. On the day of my high school graduation, I stood proudly in my royal purple gown and gleaming gold cap graduating a one year early with honors. When my cousin called me to tell me that her boyfriend was beating her, I was the same girl who took pity on her. I gave her the most logical advice I could. I told her to leave him.
As I sat on the hammock in the heat, I allowed my mind to remember the person I was and the same question in my mind kept arising. I wondered when I had stopped being so strong. Cries from my daughter's room brought me back into reality. Holly had woken up from her nap. I sighed sadly because I had no strength left to be a mother. My eyes were sunken, and the circles under them from a lack of sleep were dark and bruised-looking. I grabbed Holly and entrusted her care to Ray, her father, who had been drinking. I collapsed on my bed and fell asleep from sheer exhaustion and a lack of will to go on. Upon waking, I was sticky and drenched because someone had forgotten to turn on the air conditioning in the hot Texas heat. The house was silent. Frantic, I jumped up to find an empty house and a missing car. Beads of sweat were pouring from my forehead from intense panic as I dialed Ray's mother's cell number. When Donna answered she informed me that they had taken my car for an oil change and would be home soon. She also assured me that Ray wasn't driving. Trusting her, I waited on my porch for their return. When my car pulled into the driveway, Ray was indeed driving. When Ray and Donna got out of the car, the smell of beer reeked from every pore in his body. Engulfed by rage, I mustered up every ounce of self-control I had and followed them into the house. An animal instinct took over, and all I wanted was to protect my five month old little girl. When Donna was finished with putting Holly down for her nap, I made my way in her direction. I began to yell at her, asking her how she dare allow Ray to drive my car and reminding her that he could have killed Holly.
Before Donna could respond, our showdown was cut short. Without warning, strong hands fiercely grabbed me and swung me around. Before I could blink, I felt the severe sting of Ray's hand slide effortlessly across my face. Ray picked me up and threw me on the bed. Straddling me so I couldn't move, he continued to slap me despite my cries. I gazed into his eyes, and with every ounce of love I had, I pleaded silently for him to stop. His brown eyes starred back at me loveless, lifeless, and void. I clawed and scratched to escape from his grip. As I ran, he grabbed me by my hair and swung me around again. Before I could get away, he kicked me in the stomach. I heard cries coming from Holly's room, and I fought Ray with everything I had so that I could get to my baby and comfort her. Like a storm, Ray continued to pummel me even though I had Holly in my arms. Having no choice, I passed Holly off to Donna and prayed for her safety. I found refuge in the bathroom and with phone in hand, I dialed 911. I spoke quickly in hushed whispers begging the operator to send help. Ray broke down the door and dragged me out by my hair. Furious at my evading his advances, he slammed my head into the wall. Slowly, like a dream, everything became black. When I regained consciousness, I heard loud blaring sirens piercing the air. The police and paramedics were in the house. Holly was safe and Ray was going to jail. It took all the strength in my body to stand up. Finding the wall, I desperately clung to it and trusted it would not let me fall. I was beaten, bloody, and bruised. I caught my glimpse in the mirror before picking up my daughter. I couldn't believe I was the girl in the mirror. As I wiped away my tears, Holly's eyes sparkled and danced. She cooed and laughed at me; I must have looked funny to her. Her little grip tightened around my finger. With a half-hearted chuckle I let out a sigh. When had I become the girl who let her boyfriend beat her? I stood there defeated and it was obvious that Ray had won the battle. I made the decision to win the war.
Ten months passed before my exodus came. My days with filled with school and my nights were filled with work. Exhaustion had become my middle name. I knew the time to leave him was approaching. The perfect day was April 26, 2002.
I worked at the bar until four that morning. As I drove home, the sounds of drunken people singing bad karaoke filled my head. Once I was home, I checked on Holly and then slipped into my cold king sized bed. Tired and alone, I drifted off to the safe place in my dreams I visited often daring to imagine a different life. Three hours later cries pierced the air and I bolted up from my sleep. Ray was taking care of the baby. I stumbled sleepily out to the living room to see what was wrong. He wanted me to wake up and take care of Holly. I needed my sleep though because I was due back at work in six hours. He gave me attitude about getting more rest. I asked him if he fed Holly and his best response was something to the effect of he thought she had some cheese. I told him it would be fine for him to get rest and asked him to sleep in the spare room because I had laundry to do and I didn't want to disturb him. Ray agreed and as soon as he went to bed I put my plan in motion. I grabbed only what I could which was a week's worth of clothes for Holly and her birth certificate. Muttering some excuse to Ray about going to the bank, I quietly slipped out of the house. Fear consumed me as I went about my business acting as if this was a normal day. I put Holly in her car seat and slowly drove my burgundy Saturn away. I starred straight ahead and when I was sure I was safe, I pulled over. I opened my wallet and counted a few crisp green bills. Two and half years of my life and all I left with was $968.00. Holly and I got on the freeway that day and headed north without anyone being the wiser. I never looked back.
Driving away, I thought about the beginning of my love affair with Ray. I reminisced about meeting Ray in Alaska. I had fallen for Ray the night I let me drive his snowmobile. I stepped on the gas and opened it up to ninety miles an hour. I had never felt this free as the cold wind brushed through my hair. Ray way cheering me on to go faster and I did. When I stopped, Ray held my frozen face with his mitten-covered hands and kissed me. He told me how proud he was of the way the drove the snowmobile. Even though it was ten degrees below zero the sound of his words melted my heart. At that moment, we looked up and saw brilliant colors dance across the sky. I never knew the Northern Lights could be so breath-taking. I remember what a great time in my life that was. Alaska was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and love was the only absolute truth I knew.
Love, however, is not an absolute truth. The further Holly and I drove, the quicker those memories faded and the easier it became the childish ideology that love conquers all. Driving away I looked in my vanity mirror and saw the girl starring back. The girl I saw was fragile but determined. Nothing was going to stop her and nothing was going to scare her. Her eyes which were once empty now showed a new hope. Hair that was dull now shone in the morning light. A spirit that was broken had now become renewed. It was hard for me to believe I was the girl in the mirror but I was and I was proud to be.
The Outcome
This story represents the worst part of Ray. Our relationship was damned from the beginning. I could tell stories of how he almost shot me when he stole a gun from the President of the Hell's Angels' house or how he'd leave me alone with all day morning sickness while I was pregnant with our daughter. He had an addiction to drugs and led me down a dark path to cocaine addiction. He told me that he was going to kill himself the day Holly was born, and he did not come home for the first three weeks of her life. This caused me to have to go back to stripping two weeks after having a caesarean section in order to put food on the table. Clearly his abuse was not only physical but mental and emotional as well which in my opinion are the worst kinds. I learned a valuable lesson from the time I spent with Ray. I learned how to know and trust myself. I have the drive to overcome any situation no matter how bleak it may look. Ray is currently sober thanks to medication but sobriety hasn't changed the man he is. I relocated back to Texas so that my daughter my have a chance to know her biological father. Ray was excited to be given a second chance. Sadly, in the end, he does not make any attempt to see his daughter. I can't say I am surprised.
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