January 30, 2019

Sold to the Highest Bidder

We met at the Enlisted Member’s Club in Georgia.  I was in the Army National Guard. He was active duty Air Force. I was upstairs where the Top 40 was playing. He was downstairs where the rock was blasting. The upstairs bar had a line around the building! I went downstairs where the line wasn’t as long. Billy Idol’s “White Wedding” came on and the next thing I knew we were dancing and talking while we waited in line.

His name was John O’Rourke but everyone called him “The Rock”. He was a fine-looking man with a gorgeous smile. His eyes were the color of Hershey’s kisses. We talked and danced and laughed. He walked me home.  He wanted to get intimate that first night, I declined.  We dated.

We married a few months later.  That afternoon, he sucked on my lip so hard it swelled and bruised. He got drunk in the living room with his friends while I cried myself to sleep in the bedroom on our wedding night.

We lived in a single wide in the sweltering heat of Georgia. We had one vehicle and no phone. I had no idea how to cook; so we ate macaroni and cheese with every possible addition: peas, hot dogs, carrots, hamburger, you name it. We read together. He went to work every day, leaving me in the trailer alone. When he was mad at me, he’d walk me over to a pay phone and call my mom to tell on me. Then he’d stand next to me while I talked to her, not able to tell the truth.

We spent an afternoon movie hopping, then roller skating with his friends. I fell and broke my wrist in two places, the hospital wasn’t able to give me anything for the pain because I was pregnant. I began to spot, the doctor told me they wouldn’t give me anything to prevent the miscarriage because this was a natural way for my body to get rid of a baby that was unwell. We were out to dinner at a steakhouse with friends. I went into the bathroom and miscarried in the toilet. I waited quite a while, but the bleeding didn’t stop. I went back to the table and told my husband what happened. I asked him to take me to the hospital, he said they’d just ordered. I explained, without treatment, I’d die. He took me, but you could tell he was angry about it.

We went to visit his family in Chicago. His father lived on the first floor and his mother lived on the second of the same tenement. I don’t remember his father. We stayed with his mother. His brother came to visit at the same time. He had a sister and her kids who either came to visit Mama while we were there or lived with her; I don’t remember which. His mother hated me because I was Caucasian and she didn’t want her African-American son to marry a Caucasian. There was nothing I could have done to change her mind.

We went out with his best friend from high school. We went dancing at a reggae club. It was nice. The music was good, the drinks were tasty, club was packed. Nice ambiance. We’re out on the floor, moving our stuff when the man dancing next to us steps on my foot. He apologizes. I accept. My husband doesn’t accept and gets into a physical altercation with this stranger in a reggae club. Hello!

We were at a house party. I was drunk. I was flirting with his friend, when his friend hit on me. I agreed to meet him. To this day, I don’t know why! Stupid. Young. Depressed. Abandoned. Controlled. Ugh! I’m thinking, well he won’t show up. He was drunk and won’t remember. He showed up. He wanted sex. I had sex with him even though I didn’t want to. Why? I felt so guilty. I thought about it constantly. Everything my husband and I did together felt tainted. I finally told him. I truly believed it was more honorable to tell him.

I told The Rock because I thought it was the right thing to do.  In hindsight, I told him to lighten my guilt. I hoped he would tell me he loved me anyway and he was sorry for not being emotionally supportive and we’d work it out.

NOT what happened. He took off to go talk to his best friend. I was terrified he was going to beat him up. It was worse. He brought him back to our trailer and offered to sell me to him. He tormented us for weeks.

He got orders to Florida. We packed up and moved and left his “best” friend behind.

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