Blond, Black, and Blue

Caitlyn pressed her back against the wall of the closet, not daring to exhale. She knew he would hear it. He was listening for any sound, it was much too soon for the beating to end. She wiped her bleeding nose with the tail of her shirt, being careful not to sniff or bump anything around her. She felt her nose was broken, her twisted arm hung at her side.

‘I can not take anymore beating tonight,’ she thought to herself.

He was going upstairs! The children were there but he knew she would never go near the children when he was on a rampage. Just as her intense anxiety began to cause sweat to cover her brow, she immediately heard him tumbling down the stairs.

“Oh, thank God!” she breathed, finally exhaling, but quietly.

Caitlyn did not move for another thirty minutes, then stealthily left the closet. Peeking around a corner, she saw Jessie lying at the foot of the stairs, snoring softly and asleep in his drunken stupor. Even in her pain she could not bring herself to kick him as she had so often wished to do, it just was not in her to harm another person.

Caitlyn stood in the shower and let the water wash the blood away and soothe her bruises. Only then did she take something for pain and lock herself in the guest room. Early the next morning, Caitlyn was bent over the bathroom vanity splashing cool water on her face to wake up. When she raised her head her mane of long blond hair cascaded to her shoulders. She had always gotten compliments on her hair, but today, as she gazed in the mirror she did not think her hair really complimented her black eye and bruised face. Definitely too many colors clashing, she thought ironically. She had been so grateful to see that Jessie had left.

What a night! Thank heavens she had put the children to bed early and she could only hope Jessie had not wakened them with his rampage. They had already seen too much in their young lives. How much more could they see of the violence, and not be affected for life? Children deserved to grow up safe and well loved.

In the eight years she and Jessie had been married, she had convinced herself Jessie loved them. He had always worked regularly, they lived in a beautiful home in one of the best neighborhoods in Boston. The children attended a good school and she had become a past master at covering her bruises. She hated to hear Jessie start with his reasons for beating her. She had pushed him into such a bad mood, he did not know what he was doing, or that he had not really hit her, he had only pushed her or she just lost her balance.

How many times had he convinced her that she, not he, was the one responsible for their fights.

Although Caitlyn was only twenty eight, she felt older than her Aunt Betty. Jessie had never missed an opportunity to belittle her in any way that presented itself. He was a past master at accusations.

As she applied foundation to cover her bruises, she looked into the eyes in the mirror and said, “Take inventory of your life.” That was a phrase Aunt Betty had said to her a lot lately. Suddenly, it seemed very important that she do just that.

When she finished her makeup, she got pen and paper to do her inventory properly. While the children ate breakfast, she had a mug of coffee and made her list. Jessie was the provider, although she had a tight budget with nothing left over. Her name was on the check book, but she was not allowed to use it. She had a car to drive but she was only allowed to take the children to school and back and must do grocery shopping after she dropped off the children at school, never a special trip.

She had two great kids, but she had been called to school about Logans’ behavior, they both had nightmares after they had witnessed the violence at home.

She was not allowed to have friends in. She had an Aunt Betty but could not have her in her home either.

‘This was not looking too good,’ she thought when she realized Logan had said “Mom” several times.

“I’m sorry Darling,” Caitlyn said, “Do you need something else?”

“No, Mom, I just wanted to tell you there’s a blue spot you did not cover up. I knew you would want to cover it before you left the house,” Logan said, trying to sound grown up. “And before you ask, yes, we both heard Dad last night.” Logan kept his eyes lowered. He felt if he looked into her eyes, it would embarrass his Mom too much. They had gotten pretty good at the game of pretending nothing had happened.

Suddenly, Caitlyn hated the game she hated herself for her role in it. She left the table to apply more makeup, on the way surveyed the wrecked living room. “This can not go on,” she said to herself. “These kids deserve so much more, maybe even I deserve something better too.”

There would be no point in talking with Jessie, she had tried that for years. His reaction was always the same, “you are trying to start trouble again,” he would say. “Can I never have any peace?”

One thing was sure, they had to get away from Jessie. The beatings were coming more often were more severe. Jessie did not even bother to apologize any more. “And why should he?” she asked herself. When he comes home, all traces of his rampages are always cleaned up his life goes on undisturbed until the next one.

When she dropped Logan off at school, she asked, “How would you like to get a hot fudge sundae after school today?”

The thought of the rare treat made them both smile, “Oh, Mom, could we?” Sarah asked.

Logan leaned toward his mother said softly, “Take care Mom, maybe things will get better.”

Caitlyn was so startled by her little boy. He was trying to be supportive. Why on earth should a six year old be put in this position. She smiled and waved as they left the car but she was also planning. Some way, some how, she was getting out of here.

The first thing to do was to call Aunt Betty. She never interfered, but if Caitlyn asked for advice, it was always practical.

That was another thing she was not allowed, putting a long distance call on the phone bill enraged Jessie. Oh, well, she was going to call if he got angry, he got angry. A thought popped into her mind, ‘do not be living here when the bill comes in.’ Where did that come from, she wondered.

Aunt Betty answered on the first ring.

“Hello, Aunt Betty,” Caitlyn said, and began to cry.

“What can I do to help you, Caitlyn? You do not have to tell me what has happened,” she said.

“I do not know, I’m so beat down I can not even make decisions! Aunt Betty, how do I get out of this nightmare I’m in?’’ Caitlyn asked?

“Praise the Lord Caitlyn, you’ve finally had enough. Now girl, lets us get down to facts. Do you really want to leave Jessie?” Aunt Betty asked.

“I’ve got to,” Caitlyn said tearfully. “He’s made a wreck of me and my babies should not have to live in this.”

“Then listen carefully, I can be there before Logan gets out of school for lunch. You pack as much as we can get in my car. I’ll get you and Sarah first then we’ll get Logan early. Leave your car there, we will not need it, do not waste time cleaning up the wreck he’s made of the house,” Betty said heatedly.

“I had thought I would leave him dinner. He will not have anything to eat,” said Caitlyn. “Besides that, I’ve never left my house cluttered and this one is a wreck.”

“Caitlyn, dear, I hate to tell you this, but the house has never been yours. It is his money, his house, his cars. He only gives you the honor of being his housekeeper,” Betty replied angrily.

“Do you think I’m being fair to leave without telling him?” Caitlyn said worriedly.

“Darling, if you tell him, he will kill you, or at least beat you unmercifully. If you want fair, look at your face, or listen to your children’s nightmares. The choice is yours, I’ll be there in two