Guns, rage and the Fourth of July

I can look back on a lot of events that happened between Gary and me and laugh.

Keeping one's sanity forces that.

Time has a way of easing the pain and the fear and with that time comes a sense of humor.

Some things though are never funny, even after 30 years.

I had been married to Matt for a year at this point, and after a long day, I was trying to relax in the bathtub when Matt came in, newspaper in hand. He had the strangest look on his face. I thought someone had died.

It seems that Gary had made the news.

He then proceeded to tell me that Gary had been arrested for terrorist threats, weapons possession, and more in a very dramatic stand off on the beach Fourth of July weekend.

I knew that Gary had serious issues, but never in my wildest dreams did it occur to me that he could do anything like this. Looking back, we all should have realized it, especially me. With all the guns, knives, and violence that went on in my own home, why on earth would it stop there?

Maybe he never did it outside of the home because he got it out of his system with us. Who knows? I know I don’t, and since I am confident that our paths will never again cross, we will never know what was going through his head that day.

What could have possessed him to decide that that would be the day he would become Rambo?

What could have motivated him to load a .30 Saginaw US Carbine, put a dagger in his pocket and proceed up the block to the beach? Can you possibly imagine what must have gone through the minds of his neighbors when they glanced out their window as he marched down to the beach, armed and ready for war.

Could the backfiring of a car have caused him to turn and shoot, possibly a mother walking her child? What would have happened if a father, with his children playing in their yard, came out and confronted him?

Thank God that didn’t happen and no one was seriously hurt, but the stage was set for what could have been a very deadly day in the history of Point Pleasant Beach.
Things like this just don’t happen in our town. I don’t think there have ever been a murder here, let alone a standoff on the beach.

The scene must have been surreal for the dozen or so people that ran off the beach when they saw him approach that afternoon, gun in hand. I shudder to think of the panic and fear that they must have felt. Would today be the day that I am going to die, just because I wanted to go to the beach? Do you run, walk, freeze where you are standing?

What do you do in that situation?

These people ran, and for whatever reason, they were obviously not the intended target that day.

The police that responded to the scene were faced with a man, quite possibly under the influence of alcohol or drugs with either homicide or suicide on his mind. What other conclusion could you come up with when you are faced with an armed individual who had no intention of robbing anyone?

In his mind, I would assume, he wanted someone dead.

What kind of training is required to handle such a situation? I realize that crime happens in small towns, it is everywhere. But to think that you would be faced with a situation such as this in our little seashore town, might not have really occurred to any of the officers that responded.

When the first officer arrived on the beach and saw Gary sitting very calmly under the lifeguard stand, weapon in hand, I would imagine that a mixture of fear, tension and anxiety must have flowed through him all at the same time.

One policeman already on the beach, more coming from the other side with Gary in the middle, it must have looked like a scene from Hill Street Blues.

He was ordered to lay his weapon down; he refused, stood and faced the officers. Drawing his gun to waist height, he pointed it at the first officer who had arrived at the scene. Told again to drop his weapon, guns drawn by all and he still refused. He told the officers that he couldn’t and wouldn’t drop the gun.

With that he proceeded to walk towards the ocean, all the while walking in a slow circle to insure that he would have a clear shot at at least one of the officers at any given moment.

The tension at that moment must have been incredible.

It took a split second decision by one of the police officers when Gary’s back was turned to him to holster his weapon and charge him, tackle him into the surf in an attempt to disarm him. The gun flew out of Gary’s hands and landed under him as he and the officer wrestled, the other officers rushing to assist.

For the officers, it must have seemed like eternity, but in actuality, it was only a matter of minutes. When it was all over and done with, no one was hurt and Gary was in jail. Still as arrogant as ever, threatening the officers that he should have finished them off when he had the chance, and screaming that they should go into his cell one at a time so he could finish what he started.

That incident still haunts my mind from time to time.

What if he had come to our home instead of the beach? Would we be alive, would he have killed me and Matt and taken Shayne and Brittany? Thoughts like that need to put away and kept away.

That didn't happen so I can't dwell on it; although I did for some time after that.

I sometimes wonder if Gary really knew the magnitude of what he was doing. Not that he was incompetent, but he could take roll playing to the extreme. Was this just another act of role playing gone too far? Was it suicide by cop? Did he want to die in a very dramatic way? Maybe he really did want to harm those police officers. If that was the case, I think he was very lucky to walk off that beach, and not get carried off in a body bag.

It also have to selfishly wonder, if this had turned out with a fatal ending for anyone that was involved, what affect that would have had on my children in the years to come?

Thank God it didn’t.

A short time later, I was at the salon of my friend Lisa when her sister-in-law told me that she had heard that Gary had been screaming while being taken into custody that his wife had stolen his children from him and that’s why he was on a death wish.

I left the beauty parlor in tears, convinced it had been my fault.

That comment bothered me for years.

Was I responsible for this man’s rage against the world? Had I somehow unhinged him even more when I took my children away from him? Was this on my shoulders?

I finally realized that it was not my fault. Gary had made his choices and was responsible for them; all of them.

For his day at the beach that fourth of July, he served two years in our Ocean County Jail.

A rumor that I had heard, but can’t confirm is that he and a female guard fell in love during his time in confinement.

As the story was told to me, when Gary was released from jail, his lady-friend guard left her family and her job to travel to Florida with her new love.

Once there, I was told that she was killed after stepping off the sidewalk and being struck by a truck.

If this is true, it’s horrific for all involved. I find no pleasure in his misfortune or her tragic end.

It is moments like this that force me to ponder the existence of Karma; and if it does and that story is true, was the wrong person killed that day?

Another wedding

Planning for wedding number two was about to commence. Matt proposed to me about three and a half years after we started dating. It made sense. I had to finalize my divorce. I also had two children.

Matt loved my kids, and me, but it was big step for both of us. He had never been married and wanted to make sure if he did marry me, it was for keeps. There were two children involved, not just us. As for me, the thought of getting married again and having it end up in divorce was more than I could stand.

So, one night while Matt and I were at out to dinner at a restaurant that I had grown up going to, Matt proposed. Ring in hand he asked me to marry him just before dessert was served.

My parents were so happy for my children and me. It was a dream that they had had for a long time. That their daughter and her children would find someone who would love them and take care of them; and not be a psycho.

Well, maybe the psycho was the main criteria, but hell, who cares, I was getting married and we were all happy.

So, the decision was made, we would be married after a year and a half engagement.

Can you guess who wanted to walk me down the aisle? And it wasn’t my dad.

Yup, it was Gary. He thought that it would be great to show people how we overcame our differences.

Jesus Christ, can you imagine? If I had agreed to that, I don’t think that anyone from my family would have attended the wedding, let alone me.

Needless to say, Gary did not walk me down the aisle. My very proud father did. I am also happy to announce that when I got to the church with my dad, I did not cry, blubber or sob in any way, shape or form.

I was actually confident that this was the right decision.

When the Reverend came to welcome me into the church and to see how I was doing, I did ask him if Matt had gotten there yet. Deep down I was so afraid that he wasn’t going to show up.

It was a foolish fear; he had gotten to the church with his Best Man over an hour early and had a glass of wine with the Reverend in the waiting area. We were both very nervous, but confident in our decision to get married.

It was a beautiful ceremony, with Shayne and Brittany in the wedding party.

Matt and I were so nervous it was ridiculous. Standing at the altar; our knees were shaking so badly, I was not sure who was going to fall down first, Matt or I.

Leave it to Brittany to break the ice.

There we were, all standing so regal at the altar, solemn and reflecting on our love; you could have heard a pin drop.

Out of the silence you could hear an angelic voice saying, “Mom, what is that you have on the heel of your shoe?” It was Brittany, and on my beautiful new shoes was a piece of fuzz from the carpet protruding from my spiked heel.

It was priceless. You could not have scripted that. Everyone laughed, the ice was broken, and the ceremony continued.

Out of the mouths of babes.

The reception was perfect. Matt paid for the entire affair, as my dad had paid for my first marriage. Come to think of it, we all paid dearly for that first wedding.

With Matt paying and planning the entire wedding without any input from me is something that bothers me now, years later. This is something that I would look back on and realize now, that I was still living without a voice or mind of my own if you will.

It never occurred to me to ask to be part of the wedding planning or preparations. Matt was paying for it so he decided everything. I never once disagreed or thought that I should or could have a say in any part of the planning.

But the reception was perfect and a good time was had by all.

After the reception we stopped off at another function where Matt’s bowling banquet was being held. His team had placed, so we went to collect his winnings to take on our honeymoon with us. We made our appearance at his parent’s house for the after wedding party, and then at my parent’s; and to kiss my children goodbye. They would not be coming with us on our honeymoon.

Then it was off to St. Martin for five days. It was so relaxing, and if it weren’t for the near sun poisoning that I got the second day, it would have been perfect. I didn’t want to believe anyone when they told me the sun was hotter there than it was in New Jersey. I always seem to learn the hard way.

I got so burned that I sent Matt off to the casino the second night there, hopefully to win us our future fortune, because I simply could not walk. My ears literally burned and peeled. That had never happened to me before, and never since. I looked ridiculous, but by the third day I was better; my skin was growing back at an alarming rate and I could actually walk.

We had such a good time, but I missed the kids more than I had anticipated, so much so that the one night when we called to talk to them, I cried so hard that Matt had to take the phone from me, I just couldn’t get my breath long enough to speak.

Our honeymoon was dull though, compared to my first one that is. I didn’t get strip searched or anything on this trip. No horror museums or ice storms for us. Just intimate dinners, days lying on the sun drenched beaches and time alone.

I even had sex with my husband, often, so that’s a step in the right direction; isn’t it?

Now, that’s a novel idea, isn’t it?

The ice has finally melted

As if I didn’t’ have enough on my plate being a single parent and in a new relationship, the thought of being intimate with a man was beyond frightening to me. I was a young woman and figured I’d be celibate the rest of my life.


As you might remember, when I left my first husband I was as frigid as you can get, and my fear radiated from my body like a beacon.

It isn't the easiest thing to talk about with a new propective lover. "Hello, I want to be with you but, well, I'm as frigid as an polar bear's balls on an iceberg."

I don't think so.

Thankfully, Matt was the perfect gentlemen. He knew not to rush me into something that I really wasn’t ready for. The thought of having sex with someone, even Matt scared me to a point where even if I did consent to it, I was sure that he would be so disappointed with my performance that he would just get out of the bed, laugh and leave.

I am not saying that we didn’t get physical; we got pretty hot and heavy in his car. Jesus Lord, I was a grown woman with two children and I was making out in my boyfriend’s car. We were acting like a bunch of high school lovers. Oh wait, lovers go all the way, we did not. If Matt minded or felt unsatisfied in any way, he never let on, which I thought was pretty special.

It didn’t help the fact that I had never really enjoyed sex like I later found out that you should. My introduction to sex had been way too early and the sex after that was more out of fear or just going through the motions, without any of the passion or closeness that I believe I must have needed to have satisfying sex.

One evening after about three months of being together, we were in the car driving around and, for whatever reason, it hit us both at the same time. Call it pent up sexual frustrations if you like, but we looked at each other and decided without speaking that we needed to have sex and we needed it now. It was so comical. Matt pulled up to the beach and we started to get all touchy/feely and as great as it was, we were like animals. We were like sharks in a feeding frenzy. It was hysterical; like we were going to die if we didn’t “get it”.

Matt decided that the car was not the place for us to consummate our relationship so off we go, all sweaty, trying to find a hotel room. Alas, it was not in the cards to happen that night, no one had any rooms available. So we did the next best thing. We planned for the following Saturday night to be the night that we would bring our relationship to the next level.

Our plan was to go to the Barber Shop for some drinks, relax and unwind before our big evening. Although it was something that I really wanted, I was still scared to death that I was going to suck at it. Figuratively that is. .

It was that night that Matt gave me my first shot of Sambuca. The entire time we were there all that was on our minds was that we were going to finally be together. It’s funny, I make it sound like we had been together for years and never had the chance to be intimate. It seemed like forever to me. I had not had sex for quite a while, and before that the sex that I had was more like the House of Horrors.

Matt had been in a serious relationship with a girl after high school, but that didn’t work out, and that had been a very painful time for him. He dated, but Matt was not one to jump into bed with a woman on the first date. It was just not something that he thought was the thing to do. What a gentleman.

Anyway, I had not realized that Matt had already gotten us a room. It was a hotel right down the street from the bar; convenient location don’t you think? We said our good buys and left our friends and off we went to what I was hoping was not a huge mistake on my part.

I had tried to dress sexy for him. I had on my best pair of pants and silky blouse, and under that I had on a camisole. I was so afraid that he would be disappointed that I tried everything I could think of to make myself more attractive for him. I just didn’t think I had what it took to keep him if he saw me as less than what I thought he deserved; a great looking woman who was an animal in bed. God what have I gotten myself into. I had been an animal in bed alright, a dead fish.

A thought crossed my mind for a brief moment. Insist he bring me home right then and there, break it off with him and remain alone a celibate for the rest of my life. That might be easier.

Well, I decided that this is something that I not only wanted to do, but I needed to for my own sanity. I needed to know that I could be desirable to a man. We got to the hotel, Matt came and got me out of the car and together we walked, arms wrapped around each other to our room. There was a bottle of Champagne in the ice bucket and a six pack of beer in the sink filled with ice.

Does my man know me or what?

When you are in a hotel room, knowing that you are there for sex, and you aren’t a hooker, it’s a bit awkward as to what to do first. I wanted him so badly, but didn’t want to appear to over anxious or like a slut, and at the same time I thought I was going to throw up because I was so nervous. That would have been lovely; nice way to set the mood, don’t’ you think.

Matt was perfect. He knew how anxious I was so he was careful not to go too fast or to seem too pushy. Ladies, this is what the first time should be like for everyone. He took control of the evening and with great patience and passion showed me what it was like to be with a man who loved me and who actually cared about what I wanted. It was wonderful.

And guess what, I was not frigid any longer. Our roll in the sheets lasted for over three hours. Oh my God, what have I been missing out on for so many years? Having sex with a man that you wanted to be with was so much more than just having sex with someone that said you should or with a man that you were afraid of. Who knew? Just because it takes me ten times longer to figure things out doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t have much common sense, does it? Sure it does.

Well, as we were lying in bed, holding each other and both of us amazed at the passion that we just shared together, I had to go to the bathroom. Now, you have to understand, we had just spend three amazing hours romping around the sheets, being very uninhibited. So when I got up to use the facilities, Matt was a bit surprised when I pulled the comforter completely off the bed and wrapped it around myself before I would walk across the room to the bathroom. He propped himself up on the bed and with a look of amazement on his face, asked me what I was doing. I’m like; “I’m going to the bathroom.”

I had no idea what he meant. He said, “Nancy, we have just seen every inch of each other, why the comforter?” Was he kidding me? I was not about to walk across the room with no clothes on. That was just taking it too far. He had seen me naked lying down, but not standing up. That would take another few years before I graduated to that level of intimacy.

Shit, don’t rush me.

After an evening like that, considering what my sex life had been before that, it was hard not to walk around with the goofiest smile on my face. It is amazing what good sex can do for a woman’s self confidence. Matt was the first man who gave a shit about my needs.

Being in a healthy, intimate relationship was something new for me and I was loving every minute of it.

Matt and I would date for three years before he proposed.

Jealousy at its finest my friends

Living at home safe and sound with my parents, in a healthy relationship and graduating from business school; I was finally on my way.

I'm not saying that living with one's parents and children is without drama, but we managed it and handled it as best we could.

My mom and dad had a way of putting me quietly in my place when it was needed.

Shayne, being the oldest and the one that remembered things, felt as safe as could be expected. He knew that nothing could hurt him in that house. We all slept much sounder knowing that my dad was there to protect us.

Matt and I were doing well; we had issues like all couples do, but we were both so hungry for a partner to love us, we persevered and forged ahead.

Matt’s history with dating wasn’t anything like mine was with Gary, but he had his share of heartache. His high school sweetheart, who I believe he would have proposed to in the years after school, was a cheater.

As she was professing her love for Matt, she was sharing her wares with others.
So, we dealt with our problems as well as we could; both carrying more baggage than we were ready to admit that we had.

Our life down the road would have been so much smoother if we had had the courage or maturity to see it then.

Monday morning quarter backing at its finest.

Having graduated from Taylor Business Institute, I was very busy searching for my dream job that would take me out of my parent’s home and into one of my own. This job search would bring out a side of Matt that I had not seen before. The word to describe this side would be controlling.

You see, in Matt’s family he had little to no say in anything. He worked for his dad’s company which was run by his mother and father. They rode to work together, worked together, at lunch together and then drove home together. Oh, and they lived together.

It’s a funny thing; denial and immaturity have a way of shielding you from what is right in front of you.

In our case, I was beaten down and worn out with no self confidence and Matt was suppressed and strangled and needed an out; he also hid the fact that he had no self confidence either.

What a pair.

But, our relationship did seem to work for us. We were both very happy with each other and for the lack of a better description; starry eyed.

So, as I proceeded to look for a job. Matt suggested that I apply at Amerada Hess in Woodbridge. I was scared but excited all at the same time. This was a big company, and it was over THE BRIDGE.

Over the bridge was, for me, the city. It scared me to death, but Matt was persistent, so I applied for a position there.

Can you believe it; I got a job as a Staff Assistant, and at the salary I was looking for. The low end, but in the range none the less.

This job for me was a blessing a curse all wrapped up into one. I learned a lot there; meet great friends and it gave me the background to move on and upward in the secretarial field.

But, and there is always a but isn’t there; it was a hour away from home, and that was in the winter. Summer was a different story entirely. I had to leave early and I returned home late.

Late for a mother of two young children that is. Looking back, I had no business working so far from home. I could have found a job, equal in pay, closer to home. Hind sight.

Matt thought it was a good idea to work there so that’s what I did.
Unfortunately, because Matt was lacking in the self confidence department also, and I coming from a marriage that fed on draining me of mine, jealousy was sure to creep in somewhere.

Jealousy is never a good thing. When it comes on the heals of a marriage that reeked of infidelity it is almost inevitable that the spouse that didn’t cheat is going to have lasting results in the trust department when it came to dating and future relationships.

It’s funny, I trust the entire world and believe that they are telling the truth when they talk to me, but I didn’t trust Matt at all. Well, I thought I trusted Matt until my brain started to take twists and turns that I just couldn’t control.
It wasn’t that I thought he was a dog or anything, I was just so sure that he would see a woman, any woman really, who looked better than me and he would want her. And according to me, all women looked better than me. It was inevitable; he was going to cheat, sooner or later.

This is also where the confidence angle comes in. I just didn’t have any. So when Matt suggested that we go to Atlantic City for a day of gambling and then dinner, I was so excited. It didn’t take longer after we got there for me to realize, in my mind of course, that we were only there so he could ogle the cocktail waitresses, and possibly get lucky with one of them.

Where this little sex scenario with the voluptuous waitress would take place, I had no idea. All I know is that is what was on Matt’s mind.

It didn’t have anything to do with spending a fun day with me or playing blackjack, which he loved. It was all about the cocktail waitresses in skimpy outfits; nothing more and nothing less. He wanted those women and I was just there until he got one. Nothing that he could say to me would convince me otherwise. I sulked the entire day, with intermittent tears and periods of complete silence.

And it’s funny, when I met Gary, he absolutely worshipped me. I could do no wrong and there was not another woman on the planet that he wanted to be with. Wow, I can really charm, them can’t I? They go from worshipping me to almost killing me. I must be doing something wrong.

Poor Matt had to bear the brunt of this jealousy for many years; although Matt had his moments of jealous temper tantrums as well. When I got the job at Hess, that he wanted me to get, he was sure I would leave him for one of the gasoline salesmen that I worked with; like I said before, what a pair.

We had something that most people just dream of and we came damn close to ruining it many times over.

I still get jealous, but it is very rare, and it is the natural kind. You know, the twinge in your stomach, your face getting flushed, simple things like that. Not a crying jag that lasts for hours, or days for that matter because you are sure that your man wanted the good looking check –out girl at the grocery store who just happened to smile at him, or Natalie Wood. Yup, Matt mentioned to me once that he thought she was attractive and I didn’t let that go for about five years, even after the poor woman had died.

I was so possessed back then. I do not know how Matt put up with it. He was very understanding and he knew the history I had with Gary. That doesn’t change the fact that he had to endure very intense outbursts because of my insecurities.
Perfect example. Matt was the member of a volunteer organization at one time during our early years of marriage.

Every Christmas they would have a party for the all-male members. At this party, because no party is complete without them, were strippers who not only undressed down to nothing, but they would perform different acts on each other, and any member that felt the need to prove his manhood by fornicating with the entertainment.

What a gift to bring back to your wife. Merry Christmas dear, I just gave you the clap.

Now, I realize that Matt never touched these women. He was one of a handful of men who actually respected their wives and their marriage and chose to watch but not touch. While this small band of trusted husbands were being teased for being pussies, my beloved gave it right back by letting them know that there were some men who actually believed in the sanctity of marriage and if they didn’t like it too bad.

Well, the day after the first such Christmas party that Matt went to, he told me there were girls there but did not tell me that they got naked and had lots of sex with anyone that wanted it, in front of the other members no less.

This was to spare the both of us a very unpleasant day. So when our friend came over, a member also, and went on about how gross the girls were and the guys that partook in the orgy, I just lost it.

Matt’s face went from gray to white to blue all in about one minute. Our friend left and I went off. It didn’t matter that these girls were disgusting; I knew even though he didn’t touch them, that he wanted them. I told him that the next time we had sex I was sure he would be fantasizing about one of the dancers, and not thinking about me.

As I sit here writing this I had a thought for the first time. I can guarantee you that if that had been a party that I had been to with all women, and men had preformed for us with the option of us participating in sex with them, he would have been just as upset and outraged as I was.

The bottom line is that it would have been just as wrong for me as I thought it was for him. God it takes me along time to come to certain conclusions.

I could not shake that feeling. And to make matters worse, for me anyway, the party that these men had the following day for the children was in the same room as their party had been. How gross is that.

I guess some people have no conscience.

Then there was the time that Matt took me to see where he did a lot of his work at the Engineering Company. It was your typical warehouse/office building. I was very excited to see where my man worked on some of the large pieces of equipment that his company painted. I just love that he-man stuff.

Upon walking into the office, you are immediately hit with the smell of paint and oil. This was a very manly place. No frills here. The few offices were small, basic and functional. The back, where the actual work was preformed was large and impressive.

Leave it to me though to only notice that on most of the walls were pinups of women in various stages of un-dress. Now, what do you think I did? I cried. I was beyond upset. So, this is why he came here day after day. Surely not to work; nope it was to look at those pictures and fantasize about being with them and not me.
What finally caused me to stop being such an idiot you ask? I’ll tell you.

Matt finally had a sit down with me and asked me point blank, “Do you trust me?” Of course I did, how could he ask me such a foolish question. I kid you not. I thought I did trust him. It was the allure and sex appeal of every other woman on earth that I didn’t trust. It certainly wasn’t him. Or so I thought.

You know what, I did trust him, it was my insecurity in myself that I was not good enough for anyone that I didn’t trust. I had never looked at it that way before. I had been hurting him for so long with these fits of jealousy, and never realized that I was basically telling him he was a no-good womanizer.

I felt horrible. How could I not have seen? This is a question that I have asked myself far too many times during my life, don’t you think? The problem was, I didn’t think, not clearly anyway.

It just didn’t occur to me that I could keep a man happy; intellectually, sexually, or for that matter, any reason. So I put all this bullshit onto Matt’s shoulders, making him defend himself for years for things he hadn’t done just because I was afraid.

I was doing what I swore I would never do. I was taking all my fears that I got from my marriage from Gary and I was putting them on Matt.

I was so ashamed and embarrassed. It took hurting Matt for me to realize that it had to stop. I had to find a way to channel all that fear. It wasn’t easy because I wasn’t just afraid that he would cheat on me physically, I had a horrible fear of him mentally cheating on me as well.

Now, that is just insane. You can’t, and shouldn’t, dictate a person’s thoughts or what they fantasize about. Jesus, talk about Big Brother. It is just insane to assume you could even try. I had to somehow find my inner strength and confidence if this cycle was going to stop. Otherwise, my second marriage would be over and I would have only myself to blame.

It took a long while of biting my tongue and forcing myself not to cry, rant and rage, but eventually I started to have more confidence in myself and trust in Matt’s love for me; or better yet, his respect for me and the meaning of marriage.

I had been such a fool. I wonder sometimes where my brain goes. I think it just vacations for a while and doesn’t tell me it’s gone. Then it comes back and things seem clearer to me.

I'm telling you, damaged brain cells is the only answer.

Starting over

After our date in New York, I received a dozen long-stemmed red roses from Matt telling me what a wonderful time he had. That would be the first of many roses sent to me by my new man. My sister Barbara saw them one day and asked me if I received them for something as serious a sneeze. I was getting at least two dozen roses a month.

I felt loved for the first time in a long time.

Matt and I were a couple; a real couple. It was never stated in words, but it was understood between the two of us that we were exclusive. I was so comfortable with his; and he took an immediate shine to my children. That was the most important factor in our relationship. After everything that I had put my children through by staying with Gary, I could not and would not subject them to someone who didn’t have their best interests at heart.

I had not been looking for a partner; I guess that’s when it happens, when you aren’t looking.

During the week Matt would come over and we would spend the evening watching TV and playing with the kiddies. Saturday night, that was our night to go out. Every Saturday Matt would take me to the Barber Shop. It was a great bar in Point Pleasant Beach, NJ. You could spend time at the bar downstairs; that’s where all the action was, the dance floor, girls wanting to meet their future boyfriends, and guys looking to get lucky.

Upstairs was a much smaller bar, and a circle of tables that sat at the edge of the hole in the floor, so you could look down at the people dancing. It’s upstairs where Matt and I would spend our Saturday evenings. We would drink, smoke cigarettes and just talk. It was so nice to have someone want to listen to what I had to say. We were very friendly with the bartender and Matt knew almost everyone in there.

The time that I spent together there were some of the best times that I ever had; I look back on those days and can’t help but smile.

Life was starting to turn around for my children and me.

It’s true, that life was getting better, but there were times when Gary felt the need to make his presence known.

I was home alone one da, Shayne and Brittany were with my parents for an outing when Gary showed up at the house. He was beyond angry and I can only assume high.

He proceeded to rip the doors off every cabinet in the kitchen. He threw me, all the dishes, spices and sugars onto the kitchen floor and into the living room. He also felt the need to overturn all the furniture; just to prove his point; which was, I was a fool to ask him to leave and I just might want to reconsider.

And then he left……

I wouldn’t let anyone see the damage. Not Matt, not my parents, not anyone; but the kids saw.

My mom pressed me as to what had happened after I had to borrow her vacuum, and she saw the bruising on my arms. It was then that she went to Gary’s mom’s home and told her what he had done, and that if he came near me again, she would call the police even if I wouldn’t.

After that, he didn’t come around much; thank God for little favors.

It wouldn’t be long after that, that I found the nerve to introduce him to my parents. They knew that there was someone in my life; they could see a change in me.

Of course, that had to do with the fact that Gary was gone, but it was more than that. I smiled more often and actually started to laugh again.

Matt and I were going to go out one evening during the week, and we decided to drop the kids off at my mom’s house together.

We were going to dinner. While my mom was talking to Matt and getting feel for this new man in her daughter’s life, my dad came in from work.

As dad walked in the back door and over to the sink where Matt and I were standing, I started to blush and giggle. My dad tweaked my cheek and said, “My aren’t we giddy today.”. I just continued to blush and giggle; but the ice was broken and first impressions went well all the way around.

I was happy.

Meeting Matt’s parents would prove to take more time. I was still legally married, older than Matt and I had two children. Not what you would call a parent’s hope for their child.

Although, I would learn later on that no one was going to be good enough for Matt; according to his mom anyway.

There’s something else, everyone has baggage. You might not see it right away; it takes time sometimes to come out; but no one is immune.

As time has a way of telling all, it would come out that my Matt had his share of baggage hiding just under the surface; even more than me I’m afraid.

By this time I had left my job at 7-11 and started working at a bank. Since I had experience, it was an easy transition. The pay wasn’t good but it was more than I had made at the convenience store and I received benefits for me and the kids.
Gary wasn’t working so there was nothing coming from him; it became all too apparent that I could not afford to stay in our house.

Plans were being made for me and my children to move.

Two of Gary’s friends were to move into our home and pay rent. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I just could not afford the $250.00 a month mortgage, plus utilities. As it was, by this time the electricity, gas, hot water and phone had all been shut off.

Matt brought over space heaters so we would stay warm and a huge cooler to keep milk and food. He would even take me shopping and buy groceries for the kids and me. While on one of our shopping trips at the Foodtown, Matt was pushing the kids in the shopping cart and a woman came up to him and told him how cute his kids were and that they looked just like him. He actually blushed and just said thank you.

My parents didn’t know that we were living that way; I was just too ashamed to tell them. Had they known, they would have packed me up and brought me home then and there then. I just couldn’t let them know. I had married a man that they didn’t like, and I had gone to them for money for food and shoes for the kids too many times, I was just so humiliated that I had let them down. But, situations have a way of changing your mind and forcing you to put your pride aside. It was getting so cold out; I couldn’t bathe the children in warm water and it was getting difficult to prepare them healthy meals with no means of heating anything.

I was too ashamed to tell my parents just how bad it was so I spoke to my friend Hope, and she agreed to let the kids and me move into her home. She had a large house, and since I had taken her in years before when I lived with my girlfriends at the beach, she returned the favor, tenfold. I had two children at the time and no money to pay her for her kindness.

I was there for about two months when it became apparent that it just was not going to work. I couldn’t pay her for anything, we had no money for food, and it was just wrong to continue to stay there, so, I spoke to my parents, told them of the situation and plans were made for the kids and me to move in with them.

My parents wanted to set the rooms up for us and I had told them that there was no hurry. I was still trying to shield them from the entire ugly story, so a date was set for us to move in and the waiting began. I neglected to tell them that I was moving out of Hope’s house several days before we were to move into their house.

So, in my little Volkswagen that my parent’s let me use, Shayne who was about three, and Brittany who was one and a half, and I spend three nights sleeping in my car at the inlet. It wasn’t easy, but at least we had shelter, and at their ages, they thought it was fun. We would go to my parents during the day for visits. This way we could use the bathrooms and wash up a bit. They were too little to announce where we were sleeping, so I knew that wouldn’t come up in conversation.

What makes us so prideful? What is it in our nature that makes it almost impossible at times to just man-up and say you fucked up, you need help, AGAIN? I should have just told my parents that we needed to stay there a few days earlier than expected.

I have very good parents and two wonderful sisters, and it would not have been a problem; or if it had been, it would have paled in comparison to sleeping with my kids at the inlet. My pride once again didn’t permit me to admit that we didn’t have any place to stay; even if it was only for three extra days.

So many people in similar situations are faced with the prospect of sleeping outside, in the open with no protection. For that we were lucky. We were safe from the elements and I could lock us in and keep us relatively safe from harm. Point Pleasant has its crime, but nothing like other towns or cities.

Others are not so lucky, the women on the street with their children and no family to help them, they are the true victims.

When we finally got to my parents, it was such a relief to go to the bathroom without going into a restaurant or convenience store, or trying to think of another reason to drop by their house. To bathe my children and get the stench of failure off of them was nothing less than pure exhilaration.

My mom and dad were so wonderful. At the time, Shayne was about three years old and very hyper. Now, when I say very, I mean he could have been bottled and sold as a stimulant. The child never stopped moving. I can’t imagine why.

Every night my dad would come home from his long commute from work, roll up his sleeves and fill the sink with warm water and bathe Shayne for at least a half an hour. Every single night my dad did this. It seemed to calm Shayne down and relax him enough so he could sleep.

During one period, Shayne was going around locking all the doors, scared to death to go outside. When questioned about this, he told us that Gary had told him that he was going to come and steal him and Brittany away from us. So, the doors were locked and bolted and my children were told that nothing could get them, period.

They were safe in that house and could rest easy that no harm would come to them while there.

It wasn’t easy for my parents. I was so angry at Gary and myself at this point; I had a huge chip on my shoulder, and along with my feelings of failure, I was a bitch; an uptight snotty bitch.

Brittany and Shayne were so little and Shayne was a handful. But, my parents did what they thought they should do, what was best for their grandchildren and daughter.
I was making $150.00 per week and it just didn’t cut it at all. If I had any hope at all of moving out of my parent’s home and setting up house for the kids and I, I had to make a change. Something had to happen. It isn’t easy to make a change into the unknown. I had a job with benefits, albeit not a great one.

Was I strong enough to leave that security and face an uncertain future?

As it happens, I was. After working at a bank for a year or so, I decided to quit my job, go on welfare and go back to school.

Going on Welfare was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make. At the time, I thought that doing so labeled me a failure. That wasn’t the case at all. I finally had to face the fact that I needed to do this to get the lives of myself and my children’s life back on track, well on track for the first time.

My friend Kathy and I had actually gone to sign me up to beautician’s school. I loved to cut hair so I thought that that would be the perfect position for me. But, after speaking to my family about it, it occurred to me that I should go to secretarial school instead. It made sense considering that it was one of the dreams I had as a girl.

So, I signed up for Taylor Business Institute, filled out the necessary forms for possible grants and student loans, took the initial tests to get in and I was on my way. The only step left was to sign up for welfare.

That was not an easy thing to do. Since I was living with my parents, and they were able to feed us, the money was needed for daycare and everyday living expenses. I qualified and off I went to school.

It was one of the best things that I have ever done. Ladies, if you need the help for a short time, do it.

My case worker was a really nice man, Mr. Bridges if I remember correctly, who would meet with me every month, if I am not mistaken. Questions were asked as to what I was doing, when I would finish school, etc. So many of the women that I saw in that office had clearly given up, it was very sad to witness such desperation.

When I was ready to graduate from Taylor I went in for my scheduled visit, informed my case worker that this would be the last check that I would be receiving and that I would not require anymore assistance from the state.

He was shocked; astounded is more like it. He asked me if I had gotten a job, and if so, what was I making? I hadn’t gotten a job, as a matter of fact, I was just about to graduate from school, but I was now able to find a full time job and that, in my opinion made it necessary for me to stop receiving benefits.

The benefits were there for me when I couldn’t work due to school and young children. I was now able to concentrate on getting a job and supporting my family. This sweet man stood up and shook my hand and told me that I was doing exactly what the system was intended for.

That one moment when he took my hand I was so proud of myself. I had achieved what I had set out to do and I was now, in my mind, ready to go out and make a living for me and my children.

As it turned out I did very well. The Dean of Taylor even offered me a job there, which I turned down so I could complete my courses and move on to what I hoped would be a future for my family. My secretarial journey started at Amerada Hess and eventually led me to my present position at Andantex USA Inc. Hey, need a gear rack?
My relationship with Matt was moving along and it became impossible to hid it from his parents any longer. His sister knew about me and threatened to tell. Our hand was forced and a day and time was set.

I don’t recall ever being that nervous to meet someone.

As it turns out, it went very well. Matt’s parents had a gifts for the kids and were very polite to me.

Matt’s dad, Tony was working on their boat on the driveway and was quite impressed with little Shayne’s knowledge of tools and with Brittany as cute as a button, we couldn’t miss…or could we.

They loved my children and decided to tolerate me, for the time being anyway. As for me, they were convinced I was a gold-digging harpy looking to steal their son away from them and everything he had.

It would be some time before I won over his dad; his mother was going to take a lot longer.

I was in love with Matt and he was falling in love with me, and my children.
Looking back, I believe that his parents thought that our relationship would burn out; that Matt would tire of dating a woman with children and a psychotic ex-husband.
That wasn’t to be the case, and when it was apparent to Matt’s dad that he was, indeed, in love with me he gave him this advice. He said “If you continue your relationship with this woman and eventually you fall out of love with her, you will still love the children; can you live with that?”

Food for thought.

His family was never mean to me, but I know that Matt had to hear about it all the time. You see, his dad owned a company and Matt, his mom and dad carpooled every day to the same office and worked side by side all day, lunched together and drove home together. Oh yeah, and they all lived together.

That in of itself would prove to be part of the baggage that I spoke about. It would be sometime before I realized the extent of their suspicion of me.

For Matt and I; we didn’t care, we loved each other and for the first time in a long time, we were both with someone who actually cared about the other.

We weren’t going to let anything or anybody get in the way of our feelings for each other, for the time being anyway.

Meeting Matteo

As my relationship with Matt progressed, so did my feelings. I was feeling things I hadn’t felt in a long time. Although our relationship was platonic, I knew for me, it could be more.

Our time together eventually moved out of the store and into the Barber Shop bar, a place where my girlfriend and I would go one night a week.

Can you believe my surprise when it turned out that this was the same night that Matt and his good friend Tommy would go? So, the kids would normally go to my parent’s house and off we would go hang out and have a few drinks together. Just talk.

I enjoyed his company so much; I was actually starting to feel like a woman again.
Then, one evening, a young woman whom he knew came over to say hello to him while we were sitting at the bar. It was very innocent, a hug, a friendly chat for about five minutes, and then she was on her way.

I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did next, but I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and said thank you. Right after that, the song THE ROSE came on and he asked me to dance. I said no when I wanted to say yes. That’s a switch for me isn’t it? All I wanted was to be held by this man.

Thank the Lord I said no. Gary had walked in to surprise me and he would have seen us on the dance floor, in each other’s arms, dancing to this very slow song; with my head, I’m sure, resting on Matt’s shoulder. I was falling in love and was scared to death.

I don’t think he would have liked that. Or, maybe he wouldn’t have minded, I just don’t know what his reaction would have been. It wasn’t something that I wanted to see though, good or bad.

You see, Gary had his night of the week to go out and I had mine. It had been his idea to each have a separate night to go out. I guess it didn’t occur to him that maybe going out together would have been nice. So be it. I was determined to leave him at that point in time, and was just looking the right time to do it; which is code for courage.

So, Gary came in, having left the kids with his mother, said his hellos, let me know that he was also going out and left. I was shaking so hard at the thought of him seeing me kiss Matt on the cheek that we all soon left to go home.

He had slept with several women since our marriage and I kissed a man on the cheek; I considered it being unfaithful and was ashamed but happy all at the same time.
I will never forget that evening. Matt was shaken a bit by Gary coming in, but was flattered and almost blushing at the fact that I had kissed his cheek. All I could think of to tell him was that I was just so glad that he was my friend. I didn’t dare tell him it was because I got so jealous when his female friend came and spoke to him that it was the only thing that I could think of to do.

The following week, or sometime there about, we decided to go to the bar and talk some more and I did something that shocked me so much that looking back I am still amazed that I had the nerve to do what I did.

After an evening at the bar with my friend Maggie, Matt and his friend Tommy, we all went to the OB Diner for a bite to eat after the bar closed.

We must have been in the diner for almost two hours, just enjoying each other’s company. I didn’t want the evening to end.

Now, I was stone-cold sober. After eating my girlfriend went home, as did Tommy. Matt walked me to my car, well, not my car. My parents let me borrow their car from time to time when I needed one. Well, Matt and I decided that we still wanted to talk so we got into my orange VW Bug. For the first time since we had met, we were actually awkward with each other. We were alone and in a situation that had the potential of going farther than it should. I might have been very unhappy with my husband, but he was still just that, my husband. I did not want to follow the same road that he had, being unfaithful.

The conversation was sparse, but neither one of us wanted the night to end. So I summoned up all the courage that I could, looking down the entire time I spoke. I confessed to him that I was starting to like him too much and didn’t know what to do about it. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I was sure it would bust. What had possessed me to tell him how I felt? I could have just ruined our friendship; a friendship that I cherished and needed. One of the few times I find the nerve to open my mouth; it might have been a disaster.

Much to my surprise, and relief, he told me that he also was starting to like me much more than just a friend. Then he kissed me. It was the sweetest kiss I had ever experienced. It didn’t even matter that my head of big bushy hair got in the way and the kiss had to be cut short, thus to move the locks. It just didn’t matter. I knew then that I was in love with this man.

I got home at about four am that evening. Gary was just leaving the house with our children in tow, going out to look for me. I don’t know why he had cut his night short and picked the kids up; it figures, the night I’m late, he’s home. You see, on my nights out, I was never late. I was always home by midnight, at the very latest.

I got out of my car, apologized for being so late, and told him that Maggie and I had fallen asleep at her home, where we had gone after the bar. Being sober was a plus because I was shaking so hard I didn’t think I could have pulled that lie off if I had been drunk.

I felt so guilty about lying to him, I don’t know how people have affairs and still sleep at night. I had been kissed by a man that was not my husband. That is cheating pure and simple. He didn’t grope at my breasts or touch anything inappropriate, but a kiss is a kiss nonetheless. I had cheated and I was so ashamed; but I did go to sleep that night – alone in my top bunk - remembering that kiss.

I put my children back to bed and decided then and there that I needed to get Gary out of my house, regardless of how frightened I was of him. I knew it would take time, but I also knew that I had to do it sooner, not later.

When I finally found the nerve to tell my husband that I wanted to separate, I told him that he had go live with his mom for a while. Find a job, control his temper and then maybe we had a chance. I knew it was over. I was still so afraid of him, I thought, “Ok Nancy, one step at a time.” Get him out of the house first, worry about the rest later.

I can remember it so clearly. We were sitting on our front steps and I was telling him that it wasn’t working and that he had to go. I couldn’t take the violence any more, the drug use, or the not working. Having sex with other women was a big factor too, but for some reason I didn’t mention it.

He actually cried. I felt so bad, but I knew that this had to happen. My children and I were at great risk of being harmed or worse. I had finally found the strength to do something about it. I’m just sorry it took so long.

But, he left. He went to live with his mom in the neighboring town. He swore he would look for work, and try to control his habits and temper. He also swore that he never meant to hurt me or the kids, that it was something that he couldn’t control, but would do his best to change.

There we go again, my head told me this wasn’t going to ever work again, but my heart said that I needed to give him another chance, he was the father of my children, and I had to do everything I could to save the marriage, after all, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, really. If it didn’t work, I wouldn’t have to look back and be sorry for not having tried everything.

It is so hard for me to see people in pain, even ones that have caused my life to be turned upside down. I would rather be the one hurting. Does that make me a martyr? I don’t know, all I know is that my heart breaks when I see almost anyone seemingly sad or distressed.

Well, once at his mom’s, it was apparently easier for him to live the life he actually wanted. Free from responsibilities. No wife or kids to hamper his life. He appeared happier, or so I thought.

If nothing else Gary could change moods and his mind on a dime. His feelings went back and forth till I finally told him I didn’t want him back, and that as soon as I could afford it, I would be filing for divorce.

Again he cried and begged me to give him another chance; that he loved me and was trying. I’m not sure what he was sorry about. He certainly was having a great time living the life as a bachelor, rarely saw the kids, and just had the life I am sure he loved.

I was finally finding the courage to at least attempt to take control of my life: I told him no.

The following day I went to a lawyer and filed for legal separation.

Gary had not changed his ways at all. So now I found myself still deathly afraid of him, not in love with him, and I had no respect for him; and I was finding myself falling in love with Matt.

He would not be coming back to me, period. He didn’t like that. I don’t know why people think that they want something when clearly they are miserable when they have it. Gary wasn’t happy with me or the kids. He wanted his freedom to do whatever it was that he wanted. I put such a damper on that, so why in the world did he get upset when I told him to leave? Is it control, is it the need to berate and intimidate people? Whatever it was, he was not happy at all.

So why push the issue? I just don’t have an answer for that.

He showed up at 7-11 one day while I was on the day shift, came in and started yelling at me for leaving him and throwing him out of his home, away from his children. He was accusing me of sleeping with any number of people, most of the male customers that came in the store and basically, calling me a whore.
Why is it that when men get mad at women, they are immediately classified as a slut? I was mortified.

I made him go outside and it continued for what seemed like hours. Probably only ten minutes or so, but I was crying, he was yelling and my boss came outside to put an end to it. He told Gary that he would not permit him to come into his store and upset me like that. He would be forced to call the police if he showed up again.
My boss’ name was Ed and he was very good to me. I have to give him credit, he was not a big man, but he came outside anyway to protect me.

So a new chapter in the life and times of being followed by the mad husband had begun. It wasn’t pretty.

With my seperation in place, Matt asked me out on an official date. He was to take me to New York to see a broadway play, THE FIFTH OF JULY, and then dinner at Mama Leonis with our friends Lisa and Tommy.

It took me all day to get ready. Matt paid me to get my hair done, (you did that in those days). I wore a pair of teal brush velvet Gloria Vanderbelt jeans and a white satin ruffel blouse. I was one hot mama.

After the play, which was wonderful, off we went to dinner. I was so hungry at this point but being overweight, I did't want Matt to think I ate much. Sooooo, as everyone else was enjoying their appetizers and soup, I waited for the main course; no food for me until then.

When our meals finally came, I was ravinous. BUT, I only ate half. God help me if Matt knew I had an appitite and actually ate. Aghhhhhhhhhhh

I felt like a princess. It was one of the best nights I had ever had.

That night is one of the times I'll always remember.

Matt and I were now a couple.

He would come over in the evenings when I didn't have to work, play with the kids and spend time with me; every night.

One evening when Matt and I were watching TV at my house, the kids all tucked into bed sound asleep, we realized what the term stalking meant.

Matt heard it first; a noise coming from my basement. I thought he was hearing things until there was loud knock on the front door.

Who the hell would be knocking on my door at 10:00pm? I should have known.
We jumped up so fast you would have thought the devil himself was coming for us. Close. It was Gary, he wanted to know what we were doing and to tell me that he wanted to come back home.

It was horrible. He wasn’t so much really angry but just very agitated and persistent; and drunk. When he finally got the message that he was not coming back home, and that I did not want to be with him, he left. Matt and I were so shaken. Gary was a very intimidating presence, especially when he was drunk or high. You just never knew; so we were very relieved when he left without incident.

He was back in five minutes.

Seems he lost his car keys while lurking around outside. You had to see it: Matt, me and Gary all looking around outside with flashlights for his car keys. Here we thought he was going to murder us; but we end up all tromping around outside in the dark looking for his keys. He found them in the lock of the trunk of the car. I wonder if he was planning on putting our bodies in there to dispose of them. Sure, I can laugh now, but not then.

That would be the last time he came over in stealth, but certainly not the last time he would be intrusive in my life.

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.