Sliced meat and a new friend

My husband did not want to work anymore. I knew he hated getting up every day to drive that damn truck, but it never crossed my mind that he would do what he did next.

Why does that keep happening to me? I just never see it coming; constantly being blindsided.

So I guess it should not have come as any surprise to me the day he came home from work and informed me that he had quit his job, gone down to the local 7-11, spoke to the manager about me and got me a job.

I was to start Monday.

Stunned silence is how I would describe that moment.

I was so shy and introverted. At that point in my life I was not even capable of calling the pizza parlor for delivery. I just did not have the strength to speak up for myself or call and ask for a fucking pizza. The thought of going to this convenience store and announcing that I was here to start working, and actually being expected to interact with people, was beyond anything that I could physically do; let alone walk into an establishment and say, “here I am, my husband got me this job”.

It isn’t so much that I found the strength and courage to go; it’s that I didn’t have the strength or courage not to.

I thought that my life was going to be over.

Working at the bank was different, it was almost all phone work; I was comfortable there and I felt secure.

Up until that point, I hadn’t had my soul ripped out yet.

I did not think I could do it, but nothing came to mind as to how to get out of it. Getting ready for my first day was like slow torture. I was scheduled to be there at 4 pm. I don’t recall ever being that nervous. I didn’t have a choice though. I was so afraid of my husband at that point; I had to risk humiliation at the hands of a convenience store customer rather than piss him off.

I don’t know what I expected to happen. Hind sight tells me that I was not going to be randomly killed by a customer unhappy with their buttered roll, or laughed at by hoards of coffee-drinking patrons; but the fear was still there. I just could not shake that. Or was it the fear I had of pissing off my husband. I can’t imagine what he would have done if I had decided not to go, and forced him back to work. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

Since we only lived five blocks or so from the store, I would walk to work so Gary could keep the van. That first day, I walked slower than I ever have before. I kept thinking if I take my time, and really walk as slow as possible; maybe I’ll never get there. Wrong.

I showed up, stood in the candy isle and just looked at the floor, shaking so hard I could hardly stand up without falling, my legs were trembling so bad. It’s a good thing that the woman who was working there at the time was kind. Her name was Cheryl and she must have known who I was and why I was there. She called me over and asked if I was Nancy. Barely speaking above a whisper, I said yes, and proceeded behind the counter.

At that time, all 7-11’s had delis. So not only did I have to learn how to run a cash register, I had to learn how to slice meat. God I was not going to make it. Customer service, greeting customers and slicing meat, this was too much. I was a goner for sure.

All I know is that once I stated that job, I felt liberated. I missed my children very much, but it was a relief to get out of the house and mix with other people. And you know what; I was good at it.

Not saying much you say, well, I took pride in what I was doing. It wasn’t brain surgery, I didn’t need a college degree to do it, hell, I didn’t need my high school diploma to do it, but that didn’t matter. I was doing a job and I was doing it well.
I had pretty much lost all confidence since quitting my job at the bank. When you are slammed down psychologically day after day, you just can’t seem to see the light at the end. But this job let me start to see it. There was a light at the end and eventually, the kids and I would be ok and not dependant on Gary for anything.
The people I worked with were really nice. We all seemed to get along very well. It was one of the only times I actually relaxed.

It’s funny how things happen. I was so frightened to go to that job and now I couldn’t wait to get there. Little did I know that it would be a major turning point in my life. It’s there where I met Matt; the man who would become my best friend, biggest ally and future husband.

As it turns out, I loved running that cash register. Back then, you had to manually put in the amount and whether it was taxable or not. You remember those big ugly, and very loud brown registers. I can remember as a kid checking out at the A & P, watching the cashiers ringing up my mom’s items. That is what I wanted to do. So, there is yet another of my childhood dreams come true.

Convenience store shoppers are very interesting. Some can be so obnoxious that you almost stop believing that most people are good. There is a group of people, all ages and sizes and all colors and religions, that feel they are better than the average working person. They are, in my opinion, the lowest of the low. Trash if you will. Why some people feel that they are obligated to treat the working class like shit made my life miserable, but only until I realized that it truly was their problem and not mine, and thank God they were a minority.

I was starting to get it, life is what you make it, and not how you let other people manipulate or control you. You have the power to change it, even though those around you won’t.

I’m now 54 years old and still trying to remember that. Aghhhhh

Then you have the men that for some reason, feel that they are studs, when they obviously are not. I had one group of men roll in one early morning on their way home from the docks. Their boat must have come in sometime during the night, and they had had a few too many drinks before heading home. One of the fishermen approached the counter and proceeded to tell me what a great mouth I had and then felt the need to describe what he wanted me to do with my very voluptuous lips. I declined his offer, rang up his order, and he left unsatisfied.

I had finally progressed to the point of saying no to sex when I didn’t want it. No brainer you say. I shudder to think what I would have done a few years earlier. Would I have taken this drunken fisherman into the back room and man handled his mackerel simply because I didn’t think I could say no? We’ll never know, but God I hope not. That move would have graduated me from pathetic to hopeless.

Then you have people who are just plan decent; happy, friendly and pleasant, just looking to purchase their items and go home. The majority of the people that I met during my time at 7-11 were great. I formed some lasting friendships during those days in the early eighties that I still have today.

I hadn’t worked at the 7-11 more than a day or two when the man that would change my life walked through the door. His name was Matt and he was gorgeous. God I can still remember the way my stomach felt when he introduced himself to me. Butterflies would be an understatement. I still get them from time to time when he looks at me a certain way, after almost 30 years together.

Matt would come in for coffee every night. He knew the other people that worked in the store, so he always stopped to chat. He was a fixture there in the evenings. I started to look forward to his visits. He would stay an hour or so, just talking to all of us.

It is the friendship that I developed with Matt that would change me forever. I looked forward to going to work every day. It was hard to leave my children, most of the time with my parents, but I could get out of my house and away from my husband. I was safe there, and they really seemed to like me.

I had stopped caring what I looked like some time before. When you are browbeaten every day, and physically terrorized, you tend to stop worrying about the little things like giving a shit about how you looked, as long as you had on long sleeves to cover the bruising.

I had a new friend and I smiled again. As the weeks went on, we grew closer and closer. He would come in after work for his coffee and then again in the evening for more coffee. I could count on seeing him at least twice during the weekdays and three times on weekends. He would come in on his way home from the bar and tell me all about his evening. I was so interested in everything he said. One evening he was telling me about two women who he liked but didn’t know which one to concentrate on.

It never occurred to me that I was one of those women.

By this time, I was developing a very large crush on him. It was getting harder and harder for me to deal with my husband. Here was this man that I met at the 7-11 treating me better as a friend than my husband treated me as his wife. I was so confused.

Eventually, Matt and I became closer than he and my co-workers. He was becoming, in my mind, more than just a friend.

It seemed I could talk to him about anything. It was a pleasant relief to speak to a man who didn’t judge me, or call me names, and just seemed interested in what I had to say.

It was also very refreshing not to have canned goods, tables and lit matches hurled at me.

There were times when he would come back to the store when my shift had about an hour left and help me stock the freezer, clean up the place, and just be company for me.

It is those times that I started to tell him about my troubled marriage and what I was going through at home. I confided in him that I wanted to leave my husband, but was too afraid to. I was lost and didn’t know what to do. I was too ashamed to tell my parents or sisters how bad it was; they would worry and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be seen as a failure in their eyes either.

My family isn’t like that; they would have been supportive and loving, just like they have always been. It was my pride and immaturity getting in the way once again.
We spoke at length about what had been going on, and he urged me to try one more time to make it work. We had two children together and if I could just convince Gary that his behavior was not acceptable and his drug habits had to be addressed, and then we might have a chance.

On some of the evenings that I had to walk home from work at midnight, Matt would come in at about eleven, and then drive me home. I wasn’t allowed to use the van and remember; Gary had already crashed and ruined my little orange moped.

Now, I had told Gary all about Matt; how he was friends with everyone in the store and was just a nice guy. Gary was not threatened or intimidated. He thought it was great. Not that he would come and drive me home, but it meant that even if it was raining or snowing, he was off the hook. The kids could stay sleeping and he could continue to do whatever it was that he was doing.

On one occasion, when Matt pulled up to the house, Gary was outside, with a machete, swinging at the holly tree in the front yard. I cannot describe to you the look on Matt’s face. It was one of complete horror. Of course, Gary was just having fun, not meaning to frighten anyone; silly us. He came over to the car, shook Matt’s hand, introduced himself and invited him in for, you guessed it; a game of darts.
I was mortified, but Matt was a good sport and went along with it.

The darts were gathered, the line was drawn and the stakes were set. Gary announced that whoever won would get me. If I had had any sense of self worth at the moment, it would have drained completely from my being.

My husband bet me on a game of darts, priceless.

Matt, being the gentleman that he was, smiled, chuckled as if he knew Gary was joking and proceeded to kick my husband’s arrogant ass with his throwing prowess.
Matt won the game and went home, alone without his prize.

Much to my relief, I am happy to say that that event did not deter Matt from bringing me home in the future. If anything, it convinced him that maybe it was a good idea after all to leave my husband and try to start a new life, on my own with my children.

Upon his urging, Matt also convinced me to confide in my parents what had been going on and to ask for their help.

For the first time I actually had the nerve to consider the possibility that life could be better and that I might actually find the strength to leave him.

Jesus Christ if not for me, for my kids.