Love at First Sight

If she could go back in time, she never would have married him. Years later, Jessalyn still thinks back to the first time she’d laid eyes on him. But going back and changing the past was something reserved for the motion pictures. She had looked at him and he at her, and it seemed like love at first sight. She had fell for his dazzling smile, his green eyes beneath thick dark lashes. But mostly she fell for the feeling she got when he looked at her; she felt wanted, adored, and privileged. She was a beautiful girl herself but young, and naive and alone. She was never granted the privilege of having parents to teach her or look out for her, and no real relationships ever had the chance to form because of all of the foster home turnover. It had seemed to her that night in the bar though, when he had walked in and their eyes had met, that maybe her luck had changed. She had never met her father, and her mother had given her up to the system when she was just 2 weeks old. Now 18 years old, Jessalyn was completely on her own. Until that night.

She left with him that night because he asked her to, and because he seemed sweet, honest and she felt like the luckiest girl alive. Why was he even giving her the time of day? Surely he could find a woman worthy of his attention, she had wondered to herself. But Alex wanted Jessalyn and Jessalyn was completely smitten with Alex. They married that summer, July 5, 1966 and she moved to his family’s estate right after. She would never want for anything again, he had told her. He brought home a handsome sum, so she wouldn’t have to work. She could be a stay at home wife and mother, and her handsome, wealthy husband would provide for them. This was her happily ever after.

April 25, 1968

He came home drunk again. It’s always worse when he drinks. Not that things are good when he is sober either. I can’t seem to do anything right. I cooked his favourite dinner tonight, cleaned the house spotless and put the baby down early. He said he would be home at 7. By 11, I assumed he had gone out with his friends and wouldn’t be home until later so I went to bed. At 12:30a.m. I’m awoken by a loud crash in the kitchen. I run down and see that he in his drunken rage, has thrown the dinner I had made against the wall, screaming that it was cold. Thomas wakes up and starts to wail. Alex yells at me to quiet the baby, there is no way he is going to get any sleep with all that racket. I go to Thomas’s room and soothe him back to sleep, praying that Alex does not come into his room.

Writing seems to be the only release that Jessalyn has, the only therapy she is offered or can offer herself. With Thomas napping in his room, and Alex at work, Jessalyn goes to the closet and pulls out a brown box with a metal clasp on the front. It is filled with old photos, and mementos and near the back there is a piece of the inside coming apart. Inside of that piece is just enough room to harbour her small black diary. She takes it out, thumbing the corners of the small, now worn black notebook, and she skims a few of her entries. When did it start to get bad? Some of it is so bad that she finds it nearly impossible to put into words, her pen remaining poised ready for scripture, but yet, nothing comes out. She finds that nearly all of the entries don’t actually offer the whole picture, but still, she thinks, I’m not writing this for anyone but myself. So who really cares?

May 8, 1968

I often think of Thomas when things get bad. What will Thomas think the first time he sees his father strike his mother? Will he assume that this is what husbands do, that it is normal for a man to hit a woman? Will he feel compelled to intervene one day, perhaps when he is a teenager or even an adult? I want things to be different for my son. I want him to see the good in the world and in people, to treat his friends with respect, to grow and marry if he chooses and give his wife the love and respect she deserves. But how can I expect him to do that if all he sees is abuse, yelling, rage, fear? I need to do something before it is too late. Too late for Thomas and too late for me.

Jessalyn’s fear was mounting, and reasonably so. Alex’s temper seemed shorter and shorter these days, and even if Jessalyn was careful not to speak out of turn, even if everything was perfect and exactly how he liked it, it seemed like Alex would find a reason to get angry. In the beginning, Alex had been more mindful of Thomas, ensuring he was either in bed or out of the room, but lately, it seemed as though he no longer cared. Alex’s violent outbursts and condescending remarks to Jessalyn were on full display and Thomas had a front row seat. A child born into trauma herself, Jessalyn knew she needed to do something for herself and her son.

May 18, 1968

I need to get myself and Thomas out of here. What if something happens to me, what does that mean for Thomas? I’m afraid. If I were to leave, it would need to be right in the morning, right after Alex leaves for work. That way we would have a good 10 hours before he gets home and realises we are gone. I’m just thinking aloud, my thoughts are rambling, and I’m writing so fast it feels as though my hand is breaking. Could I actually leave? Not without money. We need money. Yes, that needs to be the plan right now. I need to save up money. How though??

Jessalyn faced a seemingly impossible task. Saving up money without Alex knowing about it. During the days, she did have some freedom, as Alex was always busy at work and seldom checked up on her. She began doing some cleaning, and odd jobs around the neighbourhood, Thomas in tow. The older ladies that she did some cleaning for were smitten with Thomas and hired Jessalyn to do extra cleaning it seemed just so that they could spend time with him. The ladies spoke with other ladies, and soon Jessalyn found herself with a sizeable client base. One day at a time, Jessalyn cleaned, and put her earnings in her secret brown box.

October 15, 1968

I’m feeling so many emotions right now. I’m terrified that Alex will look in the box and find the money or worse- find my diary. He will read the entries, and find out that I am taking our son, and leaving. I have no doubt he will kill me if he finds this. I also feel hope for mine and Thomas’s future though- I have managed to save up $2817.50. My goal is to save up $5000.00 and in the meantime, figure out where we are going to go. I feel as though I made a mistake too though. I told Mrs. Hayes about what has been going on and about my plan. She seems so trustworthy and kind, but then she tells me that her husband knows Alex! I started to cry and beg her please don’t tell your husband. She promises that she won’t. Not very many marriages are like yours, Jessalyn. You’ve been dealt a very unfortunate hand, and this is not your fault she tells me. I think I believe her.

Moved by Jessalyn’s story, and married to a wealthy, kind man, Mrs. Hayes decides to give Jessalyn what she needs to escape the confines of her brutal marriage. When Jessalyn comes to work at Mrs. Hayes’ the next day, Mrs. Hayes presents her with an envelop containing $20 000.00. Jessalyn stammers a lot in her replies to Mrs. Hayes, but Mrs. Hayes is unfazed. Let me help you dear, she says. I can help you in a lot of ways, with where to go and how to get there. My husband is wealthy, kind, and extremely trustworthy and resourceful. Let us help you.

October 16, 1968

I had to start over because my tears soaked the other page. I tore it out and now I think I’m calm enough to start again. I can hardly believe, let alone write that the wonderful, beautiful Mrs. Hayes has saved my life, and saved Thomas’s life. She gave us the money we need to get out of here and start a new life. I’m going to buy a house, and I’m going to go to school and get a good, proper paying job. I can do this.

This is the angriest Jessalyn has ever seen Alex. He tore down from the bedroom, a crumpled tear-stained piece of paper with today’s date, and the words “The beautiful Mrs. Haynes has saved my life,” written in Jessalynn’s handwriting in his hand. What is this, he yells, what are you writing about? I tell him over and over, it’s nothing, I was thinking of writing a novel but I decided no, I don’t know how to write properly. This seems to pacify Alex, he agrees with her, snorting and laughing at the thought of her writing anything, and a novel, well that’s just ridiculous he says. Jessalyn senses that Alex is suspicious though, and she vows the next chance she gets, to move the box and her diary to some place safe, a place where Alex wouldn’t think to look.

That night, Alex announces that he is taking Thomas to his mother’s place for the weekend. This seems strange to Jessalyn and, suspecting that Alex’s acceptance of her story about the crumpled note is temporary, Jessalyn takes the box out to the north-west part of their property. She intends to go to Mrs. Hayes tomorrow, hopefully before Alex does if he is planning to, and figure out where her and Thomas are to go. Burying the box, along with its contents, she hopes that she will be able to return and gather it, along with her son and start a new life, free of her husband and his abusive ways. In her heart, she fears it may be too late.

October 25, 1968

I may not get to use this after all. It is my hope that this money finds someone who deserves it and will put it to good use.

Jessalyn McCaffery

Fifty-Two Years Later

July 10, 2020

After a few minutes of pushing and pulling at something, Mary turns around, struggling with the weight of what appears to be a brown box. Mary makes her way back, her boots sinking in the damp mud. Jaimie exits the tractor through the lift, eagerly awaiting the identity of the object Mary holds in her hands to reveal itself.

It’s some kind of a box, sort of like a safe. It seems so old though and both women wonder how it got there. The front clasp is metal and they conclude that this is probably the source of the light Jaimie saw. Mary grabs a hammer from the dodge and gives the box a couple of good hits, breaking one side of it. Stacks of bills flutter out of the now broken side, along with a little black notebook. Mary collects the stacks, and Jaimie sits in stunned silence while Mary counts the stacks out, to the tune of over $20, 000.00. Mary opens the little worn notebook, and reads aloud the mysterious writing written in the notebook.