Twice and I relocated quite frequently depending on how long it took to wear out our welcome. We’d stay with his mom in Hattiesburg until she had on of her episodes, and we’d go to his dad’s on the coast until he and his brother could no longer tolerate each other. I’ll continue our story from our time in the summer of 2014 when we lived with his dad.
So much had transpired in the span of a few months. Our initial move to the coast, the Fourth of July fight, and the death of my mom had all taken a toll on me. Vera, Matthew’s “old lady” was a kind woman, but we were both socially inept. She’d also lost her mother, so we began to have more in common, but she was afforded a bit more freedom than I. She and Matthew had been together nearly twenty years. They’d even had a child together, though she’d been reared by Vera’s parents. That’s not my story to tell, though, so I’ll refrain from detailing the reasoning behind that situation. Matthew and Vera spent their free time together either on Baker Street, which was a few blocks away, with their friends or at the casinos spending Freeplay and eating comped buffets. Matthew was a former crackhead, current functioning alcoholic who’d, through his relationship with Julie less than thirty years prior, fathered two sons, Matthew the Second and Deven. The men had worked for a man in roofing for years, but the weather’s control over job availability led to a completely unreliable source of income. A steady flow of customers in need of new or improved roofs combined with a sufficient lack of rain meant full pockets and timely bill payment. However, rain and infrequent demand often meant a lack of funds that stirred unrest in the household.
Vera tried all she could to manage Matthew’s money, but as the money dwindled, Matthew would become increasingly impatient and irritable. Deven, or DJ, remained in a state of nonchalance. As long as he maintained a steady supply of pills, heroin, and weed, his worries were nonexistent. Twice, like his father, became agitated and restless as his pockets grew lighter. Naturally, he blamed me for being a parasite (of his own making, I might add) and draining him of all he’d worked for. By this point, I’d already learned where he’d spent his earnings. Some bought our cigarettes and Black & Milds, some was given to his dad for our stay in their home, and the remainder flowed through his veins.
One of these rainy days led to my first real black eye. The last job had ended and paid out the week before, and the money had dried up. I assume Twice had used the last of his meth, as he’d been up since that last payday with only the briefest of naps to keep him going. His only option to avoid sobriety was to drink at that point.
Much like the previously mentioned encounter on the Fourth of July, I was faced with a side of Twice that instilled a fear deep within me. As the alcohol infused his blood and flowed to his already short-circuiting brain, Twice relinquished control to his evil inner demons. They’d been rattling the bars to their cage for days as they’d been starved of both sleep and nutrients. I felt the air change as Twice guzzled his third beer sloppily. An ominous feeling crept through me when he wiped his face with his shirt sleeve and slowly turned toward me. He licked his lips and narrowed his brilliant blue eyes at me. I tried to smile innocently, but I knew it came out as more of a grimace.
“Want to tell me what today was all about?” he asked, seeming to expect a specific response.
I wracked my brain as I replayed the day in my mind. I’d ridden with Twice over to Baker Street around lunch time. I’d waited in the truck for nearly an hour after he’d disappeared into the grimy, deteriorating trailer. The front yard was filled with chairs, tables, and coolers. This was where one could usually find some old veterans barely surviving on their monthly pensions, a couple of alcoholics like Matthew, and a few men looking to trade their prescriptions for either cash or other substances. The trailer into which Twice had hurriedly dashed held a smoke-filled room where business could be conducted. No doubt Twice was hoping for some credit until the next job. Unfortunately for him, the first of the month had long since passed, and all transactions were made unavailable until the next automatic deposits were made.
I’d grown tired of waiting, so I abandoned the dry cab and squelched through the muddy yard. A muffled assent sounded from the other side in answer to my brief knock on the rusted trailer door. I masked my distaste as I avoided the rotted portion of the entryway. Meeting the eyes of the disabled veteran who resided in this pitiful excuse for a home, I managed a small smile. He’d always been kind to me, regardless of the company he generally kept. His miniscule compensation for service to our country prevented improvement of his living situation, but I couldn’t help my body’s response to my surroundings. The walls were yellowed with nicotine, and urine competed with the smell of smoke and body odor.
Before I could phrase the question, Twice appeared in the hallway in answer. Apparently, his quest had been fruitless. As he threw his empty beer can on top of the pile in the kitchen, his eyes sparked with irritation, and I knew I was in trouble. He placed a firm hand on the small of my back and guided me back out the front door. I softly said my goodbyes to the tired soul that rested on the threadbare couch. I didn’t have long to ponder his situation before the hand on my back shifted to the crease of my elbow. My skin was pinched between two calloused fingers as Twice gripped tightly as he forcefully pulled me along in the direction of my truck.
The cloud-covered sun had begun to disappear behind the trees, its fading light casting shadows that hid small puddles. I stifled my yelp as I twisted my ankle in one particularly deep puddle filled with cold mud. As abruptly as it had gripped me, the hand at my elbow released its hold. I waited for Twice to say something, but he just opened my door before stalking around the truck. I wasn’t sure how to decipher his current frame of mind. Puzzled, I remained tactfully silent as I slid into my seat and buckled my seatbelt.
The strained silence that filled the cab made the usually short ride stretch agonizingly. Conflicting emotions wrestled as I tried to decide if I was to be the target of the looming eruption. Part of me hoped it would be Deven on the receiving end of Twice’s anger so that I might experience at least a brief reprieve. Anxiety knotted in my belly as Twice killed the engine and sat expectantly in his seat. I didn’t dare move to exit the vehicle prematurely. It was clear he had something to say. Twice heaved a sigh as he rubbed his tired eyes. I tentatively reached out in a comforting gesture and rubbed my hand down his arm before reaching for his hand. As I began to intertwine my fingers with his, he seemed to shake off whatever stupor had begun to shroud his mind. He jerked his hand away from me and climbed out of the truck, slamming the door shut.
I inhaled deeply in preparation for battle. Despite my intentions for peaceful resolution, I’ve always been impassioned and deeply in touch with my emotions. I was helpless in the strength of my reactions when our arguments became heated. Feeling I could take no more calming breaths, I braced myself as I entered the house. Twice sat in the recliner in front of the tv with his fingers laced together and his elbows resting on his knes. He didn’t even spare me a glance as I cautiously approached.
“Are you ok?” I asked lamely.
Twice wrinkled his nose and the corners of his mouth twisted. His shadowed eyes never left the flickering screen as he snarled, “what the fuck do you think?” in my direction. My body’s response was instantaneous. My heart thundered, and it felt as though snakes writhed in my belly. Tremors wracked my body as I stood frozen. My sympathetic nervous system had yet to decide my next move.
I stammered a response, my preparations for calmly resolving the matter completely forgotten. Something about this side of Twice triggered a primal reaction in me. I was a prey awaiting is predatory pounce. He silenced my pathetic attempts with a glare. I’m not sure why, but my mind chose fight in response to this interruption. Stillness filled me as fire replaced the ice in my veins. I felt my own face twist with hatred as I narrowed my eyes at him.
“What the hell is your problem, now? Didn’t get your dope, so you want to take it out on me?” I hissed at him. My nails dug into my palms as I awaited his response. The rational, fearful portion of my mind had backed away into a corner and relinquished control to the part of me that I typically suppressed.
Taken aback by this sudden change, Twice retorted, “you are the fucking problem. I work my ass off while you lay around all day.”
This was an old argument. We’d hashed it out multiple times, and I’d given up reminding him that he had done everything he could to ensure I was entirely dependent on him. This tactic had lost its effect on me, and I laughed in response. His eyes widened, clearly not expecting this reaction.
Heat suffused me as my own rage flowed. This time, I felt the strong pull of power, fueled by his surprised reaction. “You’re just pissed because you’re crashing, and you don’t have the money to do anything about it. You’re pathetic,” I spat as the urge to drive the knife deeper nearly overwhelmed me. He’d been so cruel, and I wanted him to feel every hurt I’d felt.
Before he could respond, I continued, “you’re a shitty excuse of a man and an even shittier excuse of a father.” With each spiteful word, the dam that had contained all my pain crumbled. The power I felt was heady, and I began to twist the knife.
“Your kids are going to grow up hating you because you won’t stop choosing meth over them. They’ll see the real you, and they’ll want nothing to do with you,” I maliciously taunted. I had inched forward until I was leaning over him. I didn’t notice the movement before my head snapped to the side. My cheek heated as blood rushed to the spot where Twice had just hit me with the hard back of his hand.
Shock dissipated quickly as a thrill raced through me. I laughed as I asked, “is that all you’ve got? You’re a weak little bitch.” I don’t know what my goal was at this point, only that this physical pain felt so much better than the pain that roiled within me.
Another crack resounded through the air as another slap rocked me in the other direction. Both cheeks were heated now, and I felt a sick satisfaction that I’d pushed Twice to this point. In response to his next hit, I retaliated with a slap of my own. We continued in this manner, trading blows until I tasted the coppery tang of blood. I had just begun to feel the trickle of blood over my swollen lip when I saw Twice’s eyes widen as realization struck. I held one hand over my nose and the other out towards Twice as I headed toward the bathroom to assess the damage.
I was shocked at my reflection. Apparently, the adrenaline had prevented me from feeling the extent of the damage. My entire face was red and swollen with faint white lines outlining the print of large fingers. There was already a bluish tinge under one eye, but my attention was focused on stemming the flow of blood from my nostrils. The trickle had developed into a gush that poured hotly over my split upper lip.
The low rumble of Twice’s remorseful voice interrupted my dazed revery. The sight of blood must have snapped him out of whatever state to which he’d succumbed in his anger. It had done the same to me. I felt an odd sense of relief in the throbbing of my face. Finally, I felt my inner pain had manifested physically. I shuddered at both that thought and the brutality of this fight. I shoved a twisted wad of toilet paper into my nose to give the blood a chance to clot.
As Twice’s voice grew panicked, I flung the door open. He immediately reached for me, but I tried to shove past him. This was as much my fault as it was his, but I didn’t have the stomach to look at him in that moment. Intent on controlling my roiling emotions, I avoided meeting the sorrowful, blue-eyed gaze of my boyfriend. He pleaded for me to just look at him. I flinched when he reached for my face. It was unintended. I wasn’t truly afraid, but I needed a moment to assess what had just occurred. He proceeded to get down onto his knees and tell me he’d do anything for my forgiveness. He tried to explain that I had pushed him too far, and he couldn’t control himself. He swore he’d never meant to hurt me and would never do so again.
This onslaught of raw, seemingly genuine emotion shattered my fragile will to remain impassive. It wasn’t just that I was naïve and inexperienced in such matters, but I truly loved this man. I had allowed myself to be pulled into a vortex filled with deceit, manipulation, and violence, and I felt there was no escape. Even if I could bring myself to leave, would I survive the separation? I had woven my very being into that of Twice. I depended on him for more than just food and shelter; his love filled my lungs with the air necessary for survival. His touch provided the rhythm to which my heart beat. I could go on about the ways I thought him essential, but I think the point has been made.
As my tears flowed heavily, I allowed Twice to carry me to our mattress in the floor. He tucked himself against me before wrapping me in a blanket. I was helpless to resist as I fought to remain whole. I felt broken. I knew I needed to let these feelings flow so the poison could be released, but the pain, both physical and emotional, felt unbearable. I prayed silently for blackness to take me. I don’t remember anything further than my broken sobs as Twice stroked my hair and murmured repetitive apologies in my ear.
Upon waking, I ached with a fierceness that elicited a groan. Twice slumbered next to me, finally having given in to the pull of his exhaustion. I gingerly got up and went to the bathroom. The outlines of fingers were stark on my cheeks, and the bluish tinge had darkened into an impressively dark purple bruise under my eye. The cut on my lip had scabbed over. I took a moment to soak in the sight before carefully rinsing my tear encrusted eyes with cold water.
I quietly went back to bed, still drained from the previous night’s excitement. As I waited for sleep to take me once more, I mulled over my options. The cons outweighed the pros at every turn as I considered leaving Twice. My only recourse, it seemed, was to see how I could work to do better. I knew I needed to better control my emotions and refrain from reacting to Twice and his cruelty. If I resolved myself to treat him better, I might not even have to face the monster inside. Also, I had to think of ways to keep him from drinking. It wasn’t pleasant when he was crashing from his meth high, but drinking was what led to the worst experiences.
I sighed dejectedly as I realized how pathetic I was. But, when Twice turned over and threw his heavy arm over me, I couldn’t help but feel warmth spread through me. Electricity jolted my heart as I realized just how much I loved him. Logic and reason had abandoned me. I knew only that I was addicted to these feelings that this man could elicit even as he slept.
To be continued…
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