Monday, January 30, 2006
Grace Triumphant 011
March 10, 2005
The drive to the northern part of central Pennsylvania took almost 13 hours. I didn't want to wait, so while the children still slept I packed their things and then my own and loaded the car. Then at about 8:00 I woke them up, gently, and told them we were going to see Uncle Jim and Aunt Amy. Ben just barely remembers Jim. He actually remembers Jim's grand tractor more than he remembers Jim himself. Though Rachel has heard me talk about them, she has no memory of her last visit with them five years ago.
Still, the thought of seeing that tractor again certainly revived some of my Benjamin's spirits, as Jim let him steer it, and Ben has never forgotten that.
They dressed, and I promised them breakfast on the road, and they could pick the place. It was almost a relief to hear them argue about it as we pulled out at nine. I stopped by the bank and withdrew the cash limit on my ATM card. Then I took the credit card, which I have always handled with the greatest care, and withdrew the upper cash limit. I netted 10,000 dollars.
We visited a different bank, and I dealt with a woman representative. Ben and Rachel were fidgety, but I hushed them and she prepared to deposit 10,000 dollars in cash in a private account under my name. She knows exactly what I am doing. I am leaving my husband. And I am doing it in the most strategic and legal way possible, by making him pay for it through our joint accounts. I feel that I have no choice. I can't be at his mercy. And I think the woman at the bank, as I reminded the children to thank her when she gave them peppermints, agreed with me.
As she closed the transaction and I stood to go, she said, "You may want to consider putting a lien against any property held by anybody in debt to you, so that nothing is sold from under you."
I didn't even know what that meant, but I supposed Jim would know. I nodded and thanked her. Then as the children, ready for a road trip and all kinds of adventures with Uncle Jim and Aunt Amy, urged me to hurry, she and I looked at each other. She was sad for me, with a sincere sorrow. How many women have been through this, I wondered. And then I hurried out with my road warriors.
I thought we would get there today, but by five o'clock they were tired and cranky. More like normal children, thank God, I thought. They are no longer afraid of me. Ben complained that I always do what Rachel wants. I nearly rebuked him, as he is always insisting that I like Rachel more. But then I saw him in my mind, terrified of seeing me hurling plates and screaming at his father, asking me with huge eyes and shaking voice if I'd had a bad dream.
"What do you want, Ben?" I asked. "Tell me what you want to do, and I'll try to do it."
"To stop at a motel with an indoor pool," he said. The road always means adventure to Ben, and adventure carries with it promises of certain luxuries not available at home.
"You don't have your bathing suits," I said.
For answer, my two munchkins pulled up their shirts. Ben had his trunks on under his pants, and Rachel had her one-piece on under her clothing. My children are brilliant, I thought. Smarter than Mom. And for the first time, I felt a pang like an arrow going through me, because the instinct is still there to tell Greg and laugh about it with him. But Greg is hundreds of miles and another world behind us.
So we found a very nice Best Western with an indoor pool. And I let them swim as much as they liked. But they are both tired. In less than an hour they were finished. We microwaved popcorn in the room and watched The Incredibles on television via the hotel's movie selection options. I'm spending a boodle, but they deserve some happiness on a journey that is going to be a long and difficult for all of us.
Now it's sinking in on me. And I don't know what to do. I don't know how he could have done this to me. I don't know how or when he stopped loving me. And I feel incredibly stupid. Thrown over.
I just popped the children into bed, and even though the movie is still playing, they are asleep. They both look small and vulnerable, too small for all of this.
So I sat and wrote this. I added Greg to my spam filter. Any emails he sends me are sent into the internet ether before I even see them. I see from the cell phone that I have messages, but I am not answering the cell phone. Before I talk to him, I want to talk to a man who respects me.
|
You deserve what you get for being a man hater and probably a lesbian. Your husband had to take what he could find because you weren't giving it to him. God has brought you down for being a lesbian man-hater and totally frigid. You're really sick and twisted. You and your journals.
Pastor Marky Schemer
Dry Bush Independent Baptist Church, New York.
The drive to the northern part of central Pennsylvania took almost 13 hours. I didn't want to wait, so while the children still slept I packed their things and then my own and loaded the car. Then at about 8:00 I woke them up, gently, and told them we were going to see Uncle Jim and Aunt Amy. Ben just barely remembers Jim. He actually remembers Jim's grand tractor more than he remembers Jim himself. Though Rachel has heard me talk about them, she has no memory of her last visit with them five years ago.
Still, the thought of seeing that tractor again certainly revived some of my Benjamin's spirits, as Jim let him steer it, and Ben has never forgotten that.
They dressed, and I promised them breakfast on the road, and they could pick the place. It was almost a relief to hear them argue about it as we pulled out at nine. I stopped by the bank and withdrew the cash limit on my ATM card. Then I took the credit card, which I have always handled with the greatest care, and withdrew the upper cash limit. I netted 10,000 dollars.
We visited a different bank, and I dealt with a woman representative. Ben and Rachel were fidgety, but I hushed them and she prepared to deposit 10,000 dollars in cash in a private account under my name. She knows exactly what I am doing. I am leaving my husband. And I am doing it in the most strategic and legal way possible, by making him pay for it through our joint accounts. I feel that I have no choice. I can't be at his mercy. And I think the woman at the bank, as I reminded the children to thank her when she gave them peppermints, agreed with me.
As she closed the transaction and I stood to go, she said, "You may want to consider putting a lien against any property held by anybody in debt to you, so that nothing is sold from under you."
I didn't even know what that meant, but I supposed Jim would know. I nodded and thanked her. Then as the children, ready for a road trip and all kinds of adventures with Uncle Jim and Aunt Amy, urged me to hurry, she and I looked at each other. She was sad for me, with a sincere sorrow. How many women have been through this, I wondered. And then I hurried out with my road warriors.
I thought we would get there today, but by five o'clock they were tired and cranky. More like normal children, thank God, I thought. They are no longer afraid of me. Ben complained that I always do what Rachel wants. I nearly rebuked him, as he is always insisting that I like Rachel more. But then I saw him in my mind, terrified of seeing me hurling plates and screaming at his father, asking me with huge eyes and shaking voice if I'd had a bad dream.
"What do you want, Ben?" I asked. "Tell me what you want to do, and I'll try to do it."
"To stop at a motel with an indoor pool," he said. The road always means adventure to Ben, and adventure carries with it promises of certain luxuries not available at home.
"You don't have your bathing suits," I said.
For answer, my two munchkins pulled up their shirts. Ben had his trunks on under his pants, and Rachel had her one-piece on under her clothing. My children are brilliant, I thought. Smarter than Mom. And for the first time, I felt a pang like an arrow going through me, because the instinct is still there to tell Greg and laugh about it with him. But Greg is hundreds of miles and another world behind us.
So we found a very nice Best Western with an indoor pool. And I let them swim as much as they liked. But they are both tired. In less than an hour they were finished. We microwaved popcorn in the room and watched The Incredibles on television via the hotel's movie selection options. I'm spending a boodle, but they deserve some happiness on a journey that is going to be a long and difficult for all of us.
Now it's sinking in on me. And I don't know what to do. I don't know how he could have done this to me. I don't know how or when he stopped loving me. And I feel incredibly stupid. Thrown over.
I just popped the children into bed, and even though the movie is still playing, they are asleep. They both look small and vulnerable, too small for all of this.
So I sat and wrote this. I added Greg to my spam filter. Any emails he sends me are sent into the internet ether before I even see them. I see from the cell phone that I have messages, but I am not answering the cell phone. Before I talk to him, I want to talk to a man who respects me.
