DATING AN ABUSER
That's me at nine months. I'd look at this picture sometimes when I was trying to figure out how to escape, probably attempting to channel that inner child thing. "You're only nine months old! What are you thinking? You'll be fine. Relax!"
I wrote this weirdly serious blog about Van der Sloot which became entirely a personal angry story, so then I thought, 'Okay, write the same story of what happened to you and make it funny or you lost."
And since i haven't met a soul on Open Salon, and I certainly had never told this story before, I am just going to tell it. But that doesn't mean you have to read it. I'm not sure (personally involved) but I think its long. The point is, that is the appeal of Open Salon for me - I am an outsider.
When I first met Monster at in an East Hampton Nightclub over Labor Day, we had a blast over the next three months until he tried to strangle me, but I never wrote about the house he lived in. It was brand new while appearing to look and feel like an old East Hampton charming house -- the ultimate goal for so many home-owners -- the ultimate goal if you want to make some heavy duty cash by building a home and making it feel homey yet fantastically spoiled and putting it on the market for 30 mill.
Monster's estate conveyed that East Hampton feel of grey shingles and wrap around porches with high, classic ceilings and moldings and much more and was set back on a gorgeous piece of property of two acres or more, with a gate (I love that) on one of the best lanes in the town. It had a tennis court, swimming pool, movie theater, and a brand new state-of-the-art kitchen, which thank God I didn't have to go near because The Monster insisted on doing all the cooking himself. This was fortunate, since I still I had a major phobia about cooking ever since I burnt up my very own kitchen when I had a house and husband and nanny and little children, which was at least a thousand years before I met Monster. Still, it had a huge affect on me and I have refused to cook a thing ever since, which was difficult for the children, but at least no one could have called them fat.
Secretly I knew the entire family blamed me for this incident, almost like I did it on purpose because, to be honest that "dinner every night thing" was just one expectation of marriage/mommy-hood that had me nearly over the edge. Breakfast , lunch, dinner, dishes, not to mention endless food shopping, carrying them in the house, putting them away, taking them out, cooking them, watching the whole creation be devoured or shoved aside and then cleaning the whole mess up? Breakfast, lunch, and dinner? I had been married 4 days and was through with this process! I told my husband and he smiled and said, "No, actually, you really aren't." He was sooo right.
Anyway, twelve years, four dogs, three fired nannies, one dead parent (his Dad), two awesome children (ours), three thousand fights later; I burnt down the kitchen.
Briefly what happened, clearly not my fault, a mistake anyone could make, was that I simply forgot the toaster didn't pop up and I went to take a shower after putting in English muffins and I was having a blast with this brand new blond magical conditioning goop and since the shower was running I didn't hear anything, when suddenly these firemen burst into the shower stall and carried me stark naked out into the February freezing afternoon, because the whole kitchen was on fire. My ex husband was furious, although he couldn't act like he was, because I had the perfect comeback; "You should be just thrilled I am still alive!" He didn't seem thrilled, but he was my husband so at the very least it he couldn't very well berate me too long about burning up nearly half our house without looking like a complete asshole. I lived! It was a miracle!
Anyway, I certainly didn't want to tell Monster that whole story so it was a tremendous relief that he loved to cook.
I think monster put on his very best behavior those early months because he thought I was rich. Some people make that mistake sometimes, just because my parents seemed rich. Trust me, I would be a fantastic rich person. Anyway, I think M planned out a few things, because as I thought it all over lying in bed in a body cast with the television planted above so I wouldn't move around, I came to the conclusion that he wanted to marry a waspy girl from Washington DC who belonged to a gorgeous country club and seemed, rich. It even confuses me sometimes; until I go to the bank. So with this in mind, the money thing, Monster made some brilliant chess moves. The first thing he did, after I got better from the hospital blood ordeal where he behaved like an absolute angel was to have my parents over to a lovely dinner overlooking the pool, where he served the best steak on the planet with Bearnaise sauce as the main meal -- the only combination of tastes where Mom closes her eyes and hums with every bite, a habit she would abhor if anyone else acted that way. Mom can be hypocritical like that.
In hindsight, it would have been Monster's choice of the first course that should have put me on red alert instead of madly in love. M presented fried oysters as the first course, which is my father's absolute favorite meal in fact, not to be morbid, it was exactly what he planned to order on the Friday of Father's Day week-end when he did actually crash into the tennis house trying out his new car and died. Anyway, this was all in September and he didn't die until June so he was in heaven (so corny) eating those fried oysters with a dry martini overlooking a lit swimming pool being served by a handsome polite young man who for some crazy reason appeared to adore his daughter.
I thought my father was going to magically turn into a priest and marry us on the spot;, he was so enamored with Monster. That's the tricky thing about sociopaths (and you have to be a sociopath in my opinion if you could even ponder the advantage of killing someone); they have an unusual amount of charisma, which seems completely unfair, since of course anyone would fall for someone like that.
My father was all ready to call a preacher or priest or whoever he could find he was so excited about the old fashioned concept of getting the daughter married (again) and you would think it would be no problem since I can see St. Luke's church from my window and could throw a stone and hit it if I were that type of person, but my parents didn't attend church, except they made an exception when their three children got married. And Mom would go to shout Christmas Carols at the mid-night Christmas Eve service, until she was asked to leave one year after slamming her finger into the folding bench, which led to wailing pain that didn't seem Christmassy to anyone else in the church. Plus she was the worst singer I have ever heard besides my father and my children and myself, AND no one appreciates it when a whole family comes for the Christmas Eve service when they hadn't darkened the door of the church once the entire rest of the year. It's insulting.
Dad took me aside between the oysters and steak. His eyes were glistening. "I think we should get this done. He is clearly the one for you so there is no point in wasting time. I would be more than honored to walk you down the aisle."
'Dad. I've known him five days. Maybe we could wait a little while." He looked crestfallen.
""Let's say I drop dead tomorrow? I'd feel terrible -- not havng my little girl all taken care of."
I pondered this. "I don't know. You'd be dead, after all, things may be different."
Dad put on his Snoopy pout. I gave him a hug.
So the monster had my family (and me) completely snowed by Thanksgiving Everyone adored him including the seven hundred guests Mom always invites at the last minute after a few glasses of wine, and then she spends all Thanksgiving Day cursing anyone near her for having so many people coming for diiner when it was supposed to be a family day. Like it was ourfault.
Monster helped her with everything, as I watched from the couch (cooking phobia -- still a secret from Monster, we pretended I had blood flare-up which, of course, he certainly didn't want to exasperate) everyone fawning all over him like he was a rock star, which I found embarrassing as well as annoying like I had three legs or something and they had to get rid of me as fast as possible.
But that all changed when Monster and my older brother and I drove to the beach after dinner and M lost his temper and and went after my poor older brother; who had just had a heart attack, two knee replacements as well as one hip.
My oldest brother was never the healthiest guy in the world, which is why he didn't have to go to Vietnam, since after the doctor looked at his records before he met him he asked my parents, "Is the boy still alive?" Plus, (I hope he never reads this) he's short.
In hindsight, I know this should have been a huge red flag when Monster lost his temper with my brother just because they smoked a little pot and my brother went into an endless story that made no sense, because he was giggling the whole time. I thought we were having fun, wandering around the beach and watching the waves, away from the horrid clean up process going on at home, so I was startled when Monster suddenly grabbed my brother by the throat and pushed him into the dunes, "That story is a the worst most boring crap I've ever heard! Just shut up!"And then he let him go and gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. "You're the best, Bro." And M walked away, pretending he was playing basketball.
I thought maybe was getting a contact high or something, since I never liked pot and didn't smoke it. I thought, maybe M had been with my family too long, which we all knew could have strange affects on people. Jock was a wreck, though.
Then M got angry with my father because dad was 85 and a little deaf and kept asking him the same questions about some electrical mishap in our kitchen when monster finally screamed, "If you want to know so badly, go to Riverhead and take a fucking course!" One second later he was hugging my father and assured him he was kidding. Anyway by the time he came after me that night he first nearly murdered me, we were all basically terrified of him except for my mother, who was 83 and about 5ft 2. She knew something was wrong when I lost 18 pounds in three weeks and my eyes were so huge they looked like they were going to take off on their own and go for a little adventure and she also noticed bruised and scrapes and this new unsettling habit I had acquired of leaping up in the air or out of my seat in terror if anyone spoke to me.
Of course I couldn't tell Mom I was living as a captive in their cottage house right on the same property as my adorable and trusting parents, because I thought Mom would drop dead on the spot and then I would have to take care of my father AND Monster, which was such a horrifying scenario that I was determined to keep my mother happy and alive as long as possible, which at that point, I thought, would be much longer than how long I was going to live.
But she figured it out. Mothers are like that, especially nosy ones. Something very wrong was happening to her daughter , and that man living with her in the guest house had something wrong with him.
The day before he tried to kill me with his truck, five months after he first lost his grip and turned from too-good-to-be-true sexy, hot, sweet, fabulous new boyfriend to nightmare "I guess I will have to kill you" (Exactly Van der Sloot's rationale -- very, very spooky, my little Mom marched to the bottom of the stairs in "our" (he had taken over everything) apartment and said, "Monster, I want to talk to you."
Monster's face conveyed for on brief moment an expression I had never seen before: shame. He turned from the porn he had uploaded on my computer, walked methodically towards the door and down half the steps to face her. I peaked from the door above them. Monster towered over Mom five steps above her and about seven feet taller. Mom goes. "I am kicking you out. Its three days before Christmas and I want you gone and I think you are an asshole. You have to leave right now. Or I will call the police." She threw her shoulders back to look taller and burrowed her eyebrows to look .. I am not sure. I slammed the door at the top of the stairs and leaned against it. Oh my God! She was a dead woman! I thought. He'll kill her and then me and then the dogs and then Christmas will be extremely confusing when my children and brothers arrive and..
But I heard them have this conversation for a few moments and then Monster say. '"I understand." Fuck you, Monster, you have never said that to me!
I heard him start back up the stairs to kill me and then Mom's voice booming like I have never heard before, ever, "DON't you dare walk up those stairs! Don't you dare get near my daughter. You are leaving right this very second. I have my phone right here and 911 on speed dial. Get out." And he did. It was just funny because it's kind of like a jack russell ordering around a coyote or a tiger.
Dad was clueless about the whole thing, because, as always, he was concerned about his car. Although he was legally deaf from age, he insisted it made an odd noise, which no one else with perfectly good hearing could detect. He thought a big strong man was a good thing to have around, although he wasn't quite sure so he did what he always did and shut the whole 'Tracy and Monster living above garage when they seemed so happy in the fabulous estate with the pool and tennis court.. 'idea out of his brain. Of course he didn't own that house - of course he pretended he did. Everyone knew it; no one talked about it.
I packed up Monster's clothes that night and he called about 800 times to tell me how much he loved me and how we were going to end up together and all of that. He was smashed. "yes, yes, sounds great," I would say, terrified he was right outside and if I slipped and said the wrong thing he'd be in my room again. But he wasn't! That's the kind of mother my mother is.
The next day, The Big M was grumpy and I have to say, in all honesty, to this day, I do not think Monster would ever plan to hurt anyone. He was really kind and giving and sweet most of the time, it s just that when he snapped, well, you already know. He snapped when I dropped off his suitcase, which I hadn't even considered, feeling giddily free dropping it off at his friend's house, right when for some deranged reason I felt completely safe -- out of my apqrtment, in public, with his friends, I was just.... stupid.
I guess because he had consumed about 20 shots of tequila with his buddies, he was in an irrational mood. And apparently he thought for some reason I would bring a suitcase as well and run away with him, and when he realized that was not happening, he switched. That was exactly what it was like: a person that seems perfectly fine and perhaps even funny and affectionate and you say something like, "Can you believe how crowded town was today? Or, "We've seen this Stargate, what else is on?" and Bam!
I put down Monster's suitcase and even his buddies suddenly sensed something was about to go terribly wrong, and I know most of them really liked me, and they were all suddenly frozen, and I looked around and ran towards the door when Monster started screaming "You bitch! You aren't going anywhere!" I got to my car and he got in his truck and we had the scene like in that Justin Timberlake "What Goes Around Comes Around" video. where poor Scarlett Johan-sen ends up dead in a car chase just because she was a slut. Justin certainly should have known this by the way she acted from the very beginning and I have been furious with him ever since, but as I was racing frantically around The Springs which I knew about as well as Australia, that I should have known exactly what Monster was like from the instant he lost it that first horrible night. Why did I let it last five months? Denial? Fear?A death wish? What?
His truck that was taller than a title wave and he was behind me when he passed me on a corner on Three Mile Harbor Road, which always has some cars on it, and then he swirled his truck around and faced me, leaving me no choice but to crash into him and die or take my chances and swerve in to the lane with opposing traffic which I did before the car flipped over a few times and then he dragged me out because he wanted to get away from what would become a tremendously poulated and confusing crime scene for a very small town in the middle of the winter: with two totalled cars and no people.
I was howling (broken back) and he had to get rid of me fast. "Shut up!"
"I can't! You're hurting me!"
"You planned this. Typical. Now shut up."
No I really love you I think I broke my back. monster had this one chilling joke and I thought it was coming true: a child moester takes a littlekid into the woods. The little kid goes, "I don't like this, I'm scared and the molester says, "You think you're scared, I've gotta get out of here alone."
There were car lights piling up from where the accident was and I he was carrying me and I was still wailing away and suddenly he just dropped me in the middle of this wooded section of somewhere, springs.
It was in December, I was in the middle of the woods alone and lost with a broken back, and it was freezing. He had also taken my phone, but left me my purse.
"I told you. you are NEVER EVER going to cause me to go to jail. You should of been quiet." Then he kissed me on the cheek. "Love you. Merry Christmas. Your present is on that top ledge in the back in your closet." he sighed. "This is your fault you know, you ruined everything.' and he was gone. He took a friend's car, I found out later, and drove straight to Florida non-stop. But everything worked out in the end somehow or I wouldn't be here to write the story.
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