You Are Convenient

"Oh, my dear, I've never met anyone like you before in my life. No one I've ever been with compares to you. It took me two hundred tries, but finally, I have found 'the one,' and she is you," Joe whispers into her hair, as he scans the room behind her, looking for something better.

"I can barely breathe when you're near me," Sonia answers quietly, knowing she has met the man of her dreams.

Tall, muscular, handsome, and his eyes never leave her when they are together. How she got so fortunate is a mystery to her, as she was usually left behind in the dust when things get difficult, or dull. She knows he cares for her, not her father's money. He had proved himself repeatedly to her for the past six months.

Her parents weren't so sure about him. With her persuasion, though, they will come around. Valentine's Day was two months away. He promised her a very special surprise that evening. She knew what it was without peeking into his top dresser drawer. It's got to be a ring. She was positive.

She always trusted everyone. Her parents never gave her a reason to doubt and she took their shining example and projected it onto a cruel world, despite her father's stern warning. "You are going to be a mark, Sonia. People will befriend you for what you can buy them. Keep your eyes and ears open and be careful who you trust."

Certainly, that warning was not for Joe. Father and mother didn't know him as well as she did. They didn't know the depth of his character or what he had been through growing up in a broken home with drug and alcohol problems shaping him into a reticent, shy little boy, always going the extra mile to prove his worth.

Three weeks into their intimacy, he told her to toss away her birth control pills because he had finally met the mother of his future children. Overcome with a warmth that flowed through her entire body, a warmth that only women in love would recognize, she did what he told her to do.

"Trust God and me," he had said, melting her into him as she fearlessly gave herself unprotected, primal instincts taking her to new sensual heights.

No man had ever captured her heart like he had. He loved her. He wanted her. He wanted a family with her. She was finally seen by someone for herself, not for her family's fortune. When he texted her sweet messages during the day her knees buckled and she had to catch her breath before returning his love notes.

Returning home from her parent's house one night, she reflected on the blistering appraisal of Joe that her father bellowed after her as she ran out the door. "You'll be sorry! He's looking for my money and using you to get it. Are you crazy? Don't you dare move in with this man!"

What did he know? He never once took the time to sit down and talk with Joe about his intentions, or anything else, for that matter. Joe was right. My parents were only concerned with controlling me and keeping their money close. I didn't need them. I had him and he was enough for both of us. Besides, when babies started coming along, they would soften up and accept our relationship.

Without her parents' help or permission, as if she needed it, she slowly moved her clothing and personal items into Joe's small, one-bedroom apartment in what her parents would call, the bad side of town. Every night she was invited to stay she would empty her purse into the bathroom cupboards and fill them with her makeup, creams, and feminine products until she had finally begun living permanently at his place.

He expected her to prepare dinner for him when he got home from whatever job he was holding down. She did this with glee, even though he often disdained her attempts. She took over all the household tasks, never quite performing to his standards. It didn't matter to her though. She began using her trust fund to put small touches on his bare-boned apartment.

One month he had been particularly frustrated with the bills. To surprise him she paid them all and covered the rent without telling him. Instead of being furious with her when she told him, he was so thankful it made her cry. Her father, the brute, would never have allowed his wife to do that. He was the man of the house and took care of those things.

Well, she was not her mother. She had her own money, which she could use as she pleased and it pleased her to make her man happy. The following month, the bills seemed to have grown exponentially, leaving Joe angry and fearful again. She couldn't let him feel so hopeless, so she covered everything. After all, she was living there with him. It was only fair.

When Valentine's Day rolled around, Joe scraped up enough money to treat her to a romantic evening at a restaurant she knew he couldn't afford. Not wanting to embarrass him, she told him she couldn't wait, and dressed in a beautiful designer gown with Jimmy Choo heels and had her hair and nails done at her regular beauty salon.

When Joe came home from work, he took one look at her and ordered her to change clothes. "You look like a tramp. That dress is too low and it's too tight. I don't want every guy in the place screwing you in their minds. What the hell were you thinking?"

"It's a Demarte's original design. It's not slutty!" she insisted.

"I don't care if it's a Target special. Take it off and put something decent on, Jesus Christ."

Tears staining her carefully made-up face, she changed into a cotton dress that buttoned up to her neck and flowed below her knees. Pretty, but not special. He wore dress pants and a sweater that needed to be blocked badly. She said nothing as they climbed into his car for their special night. She would have to buy him better clothes. Maybe he was embarrassed by his lack of wardrobe when she presented herself, dressed to the nines.

Finally understanding his outburst, she let herself be lulled into their romantic evening until the check came and he fumbled in his pockets, unable to locate his wallet. "What did you do with my wallet?" he accused.

"I didn't move your wallet," she protested.

"It was right in my pants pocket when we got ready to leave. You must have moved it. Jesus, Sonia. Leave my stuff the hell alone. You'll have to pay. I'll repay you on Friday," he huffed arrogantly.

She quietly paid the check, trying not to humiliate him further. The evening was a complete failure. Instead of being the frosting on the cake of their love, it was a burnt offering that smelled like a very bad romance.

When they arrived home, he said, "Put your sexiest lingerie on. I have that surprise for you now."

Heart skipping beats, anticipating an engagement ring, she changed in the bathroom, wiping the smeared mascara off her face and reapplying her lipstick. Wearing her favorite silky red nightie with a barely there thong, she entered the bedroom. He was sitting naked on the edge of the bed.

"Give me your hands, darling, and close your eyes."

Oh, God. This was it. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. Forgotten were the bills she'd paid; the complaints and insults from earlier in the evening. All was forgiven as she held out her hands, waiting for a glittering diamond ring to surround her finger.

Instead, a cold metal clang rang out, as a pair of steel handcuffs were slapped onto her wrists. He shoved her roughly to the floor. "You think you're better than me. Don't you?"

"What? No. No! What are you talking about?"

Picking his belt off the floor where he had dropped it, he began slapping her with it wildly. "You and your rich family. You're all laughing at me, aren't you? They don't want you to marry me because I'm not one of them."

Every strike from the belt left painful, bloody slashes on her body as he chased her around the apartment insulting and berating her. She screamed and begged him to stop, trying to protect her face with her hands while he laughed at her. A feeling of helplessness washed over her, as she realized she was no match for his fury.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want to do, bitch. You want to marry me? Well, baby, you aren't good enough for me. Go home to Mommy and Daddy and I'll send your shit to their house. Get out. Just get the fuck out of my sight."

On her knees, cowering in the corner of the living room, surrounded by broken picture frames and upturned furniture, she begged, "What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?"

Terrified, she ran out of the apartment in the flimsy nightgown and flagged down a passing patrol car. Instead of filing a report, she asked to be taken to her family home.

One week later, in her parents' bathroom, she collapsed onto the floor wailing. It was positive.