Jake. She knew he didn’t have an easy life growing
up. He’d been in and out of foster homes
since he was five years old, didn’t know who his father was, and was abandoned by
his mother on a street corner in New
York City
She had been so
sure that once they were married, her love for him would be enough to change
him and bring him happiness. Instead,
everything she tried to do to change made him moody and irritable. So far he'd never physically hit her, but in anger he'd grabbed her and pinned her to the wall. There'd been many word fights; he went out
nights more and more, stayed away longer and longer. The relentless question she dreaded pressed itself into her mind: is he seeing someone else? Where did he go at night, and why did he stay away so long? Her knight in shining armor was badly
tarnished. Why could't she polish him?
Monique longed
for peace. She remembered those early days of their marriage, how happy she'd been, how they did things together, how much in love they were. Feelings of loneliness
constricted her throat as she bit back the tears. After all, she had made her own bed and had
to lie in it, just like Mom had said.
Mom. Where could she turn to for
help? She was sure a phone call to her mother would be unwelcome and so humiliating. “If you leave this house, girl,
don’t you ever come back to me for help!
I’ve had it with you!” Her mom’s
final words still had its effect, and she'd kept her distance -- physically and emotionally.
In desperation,
she thought of her Bible. She tried to remember where she last saw the Bible she had read sometimes as a
teenager. Probably still packed away in the moving boxes from six months ago, she
said to herself. Seemed they were always
moving from place to place – since the day she and Jake moved far away from her
parents and family.
Monique looked at
the dishes piled in the sink that couldn’t be put into the dishwasher until she
unloaded and put away the clean ones.
Jake had tracked in mud when he came home and the floor needed
cleaning. What to do first? That was the question. Priorities.
Yes, that was it. Set some
priorities. Get moving – do
something. Don’t just sit here and
brood.
She got to her
feet just as Gib came bounding down the stairs and snarled, “I’m going
out. Don’t bother to wait up for me.” Her question of “Where are you going?” was
lost to the air as her teenage son disappeared out the front door, slamming it
behind him.
Stunned by his
rude behavior and tone of voice, Monique covered her face with her hands and
let herself have an old-fashioned cry.
As she sobbed, she heard herself say, “Oh God, oh God. Please help me. Help my family.” She hadn’t prayed in years. Where was that Bible? A feeling of hope began to invade her mind as
she realized her first priority.
In the basement,
Monique began opening boxes and searching in earnest. It just had to be here
somewhere. An hour passed, and her arms
and back ached. She found her
grandmother’s picture in a box with some clothes from ten years ago. Why was she keeping those clothes
anyway? The thought irritated her. If she wouldn’t have so much to unpack, she’d
have found the Bible by now. People said she looked a lot like her
grandma. Monique wondered what she’d
look like in a 50’s hairstyle. Maybe
those people were right. . .
Her hand found a
book; quickly she flung aside an old bathrobe and bedroom slippers and pulled
it out of hiding. It was her high school
yearbook. Shucks. She’d have to keep looking. As she pawed through skirts and blouses,
Monique’s fingers closed around another book, and as she pulled it out, there was
her Bible! She hugged it to her chest,
fled upstairs with her Bible and Grandmother’s picture, and left the
basement in a mess.
To be continued . . .
To be continued . . .
Copyright © 2012 Elaine Beachy
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