Teardrops of Time

I sat on that hard concrete step with my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands. It was 1994, and the hot summer night was still wafting out a healthy 110° dry heat. The exterior lights of the Modern Arts Building shone down on me like a protective halo. I tried to ignore the trickle of sweat going down my back; it coincided with the irritation trickling through my body.

I reflected to a few hours ago when Kade abandoned me. The last glimpse I got of him was around eleven thirty when I saw him walking out of the party with his friend Brad and a handful of girls. I would have followed but had no idea he would drive away leaving me alone with a crowd of people I didn’t know. I had sauntered around the room acting like I belonged, all the while unsuccessfully trying to force the lump in my throat to drop down to the hollow pit in my stomach. I was out of place and prayed no one would talk to me. My feet were hurting and the drink in my hand had gone flat. Minutes ticked by like hours, and after what felt like an eternity, the party started to quiet down as more people walked outside to leave. Interior lights were shutting off, and a rush of relief went through me as I made a mad dash for the exit door. Since I still had no idea where Kade was, it left me with no choice but to surrender to the steps just outside the main entrance.

Tears formed at the corner of my eyes as I sat smothering in the stifling heat and thinking about how I no longer loved Kade. My mind wandered to a few years ago and the memory that began my journey of hatred toward him. It was a Thursday morning in November, and I was at work. I had gotten a job at a gift shop and was trying to organize the disheveled mess of Thanksgiving cards when I noticed Kade’s best friend Rob walk in the door. He looked distraught and on edge. I didn’t know him well and seeing him at my work made me uncomfortable. He came up to me with no hesitation and blurted out that Kade had sex with his girlfriend two nights ago. They met out at her parent’s farm and had sex. An instant rush of pain took over my body as my breathing intensified; my blood did a hot rush from my head to my feet, and my heart shattered into a million pieces. At that time, I had only been married to Kade for two months, so hearing this news made every drop of trust I had in him dissolve into a puddle on the floor. I desperately held back a stream of tears, and hurried to the backroom, once safely behind closed doors, my body began to wretch with uncontrollable, heaving sobs. I knew I had to get back out to the sales floor, but how? It took every ounce of strength to compose myself and muster up the courage to get through the next five hours. The thought of smiling and pretending my world hadn’t just come crashing down would be nearly impossible, but I knew I had no other choice. The shock of it all made my head foggy, and the rest of the day dragged on in slow motion.

Heartbreak has a way of knocking you to your knees. When I got home, and walked inside, the look on Kade’s face dissipated every thread of self-control I had, and the flood gates opened. Through a rush of tears, I blurted out what I knew, but soon realized that he was expecting this. He had all day to calculate how to handle what was coming, and little did I know, that night would be my first experience with how powerful Kade was at manipulation.

I was bombarded with a stream of apologies and tears. I knew Kade was upset, but sensed it was not so much from regret, but more because he got caught. He was determined to not lose something he felt belonged to him; me. I was his possession. It was chilling the way he presented his suffering, it poured from his lips as sneakily as the tears trickled down his face. He claimed that he would die without me, that he would kill himself if I left. I was guilted into feeling responsible for his happiness and sanity. I had never been put through mental agony or turmoil like this, it was unbearable. He had an agenda, and that was to NOT let me go. The longer I stood strong against him, and stayed firm in my decision to leave, the longer the night dragged on. Kade wouldn’t accept my answer. He was mentally more capable than I was. He knew he could wear me down and would not give up until he heard me say the words he frantically needed to hear. I was so emotionally exhausted that my eyes were struggling to stay open. The whining and begging persisted. It was well past four in the morning, I had to be up for work soon and could not handle it anymore. I knew this wasn’t going to end until I gave in. I was desperate for relief, so in a state of anguish, and against my better judgment, I resentfully said what he had been pleading to hear. I told him I wouldn’t leave. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I regretted it, but I knew it was too late. Kade reacted with a huge sigh of relief followed by giddiness. It was immature, like a child who had manipulated a parent and won. His belief in what I said was irritating. He accepted it as true and honest, disregarding the fact that he had just spent nine hours forcing me to say what he wanted to hear. I couldn’t help but feel that this technique was possessed by only the darkest of souls, for no one with a conscious could ever flat out deny another person their right to freedom and feel no remorse for it.

I turned my back to him, and exhaustion took over. My head was pounding, and my spirit had been broken. I furiously wanted to take back those words but knew he would never accept anything else. I closed my eyes as the hot wetness of tears fell upon my pillow.

A few weeks went by when Kade approached me with a proposition. He was desperate to fix his friendship with Rob. The two of them had come up with a plan to settle the score and resolve his act of deceit. Since Kade had slept with Rob’s girlfriend, Rob saw it only fair that he should get to have sex with me. “But don’t worry” Kade assured me, “I’ll be there too.” My heart began to beat rapidly. “What was this?” I thought. “What was I going to have to do?” My panicked mind was racing. Kade was the only person I had ever had sex with. I was a virgin when I met him. I had come from a religious home where values and morals were a core part of our belief. This was not something I would ever do, but Kade’s persistence didn’t waiver. He insisted this would be the only way to fix their relationship. He was adamant that I owed this to him as his wife. I was told that if I wouldn’t do this for him, then it proved I didn’t care about our marriage. I was in shock; flabbergasted at how he so conveniently forgot that he was the one who, in fact, did not value our marriage.

Kade was brilliant at twisting a situation around and becoming the victim, and I was excellent at feeling horrible if I ever disappointed anyone; a quality of mine that was more often detrimental than advantageous. The guilt that festered inside of me if I didn’t put others above myself always dominated my better judgement. I felt my heart sink as I reluctantly agreed to help him.

The next few days riddled me with anxiety. I couldn’t concentrate on my work or pay attention to what anyone was saying. Life was moving along in a blur, and I wished time would stand still, but despite every plea that the earth would open and swallow me whole, Friday night reared its ugly head.

When the doorbell rang, Kade told me to go wait in the bedroom. The agonizing minutes passed like hours as I sat there with sweaty palms and rapid heartbeat. I soon heard their footsteps approaching, the door opened, and they walked in looking like hungry wolves about to be fed. If they weren’t human, I swear they would have been salivating at the mouth. Kade shut and locked the door, leaving the lights on. They started taking off their clothes, and I suddenly realized what this was going to be. Kade was not there to just watch; Kade was there to participate. My head went dizzy, and my intuition frantically wanted to run, but obedience conquered as I nervously started to also undress. I stood there humiliated, and vulnerable. Rob wasted no time taking me over to the bed and throwing me down. I closed my eyes and desperately tried to ignore the feeling of their mouths and hands violating my body. Rob was rough. I was tossed around like a rag doll, situated from one position to the next like a toy, his only concern was his own pleasure. They took turns doing whatever they wanted, and I kept my eyes tightly closed, silently pleading for it to end. After finally hearing their grunts of gratification, I got up from the bed and reached for my robe, wrapping it like comforting arms around my abused body, I left the room and bolted toward the bathroom. Tears began to well up in my eyes as I sat on the edge of the tub, sobbing for the loss of my innocence. That moment changed my life forever. I had been exploited; an unsolicited act encroached its way onto my innocence and my soul was crushed.

The sweltering heat brought me back to reality, and I wondered how long I had been frozen in that memory. The emotions of that night engulfed me like it was only yesterday. Tears mixed with sweat trickled down my face. “Was I ever going to find the courage to stand up to his disrespect?” Apparently not, since I was sitting on a concrete step being disrespected by him again. I bowed my head and remembered how quickly those holidays had come and gone with barely an acknowledgment from me. It took the birth of the new year, to wake me up, and empower me with a burning fire. I was desperate to rid myself of the living horror my life had become and hoped for a rebirth of my own. My mom had called, wanting to go to lunch, and I thought this would be my opportunity to fulfill that wish. I drove to the sandwich shop, nervous with anticipation for the conversation I wanted to have about coming home. I was broken and desperate for someone to rescue me. I had never been good at hiding my feelings, I was certain she would see the anguish protruding through the disguise on my face. It had to be as visible as an arrow heading toward a target; her being the target.

The relationship with my mother was surface level. It always had been. She was a devout Christian, and the idea of mentioning Kade’s infidelity, or the night I became a pawn in his chess game of friendship chilled me to the bone. I didn’t feel close enough to her to discuss anything personal or intimate; it felt awkward, and I would shy away from it, so instead, I silently sat across the table from her, my body shivering from the winter air that slithered its way through the window. My legs were tense on the cold, hard bench and I picked at my sandwich, feeling too nervous to have an appetite. She started the conversation, and it was like all the others, surface. After about fifteen minutes I was asked how things were going in my life, and even though this was the opening I was waiting for, I still found myself unprepared. As soon as I heard it, the tears gushed down my face like rapid waterfalls. My voice cracked as I choked out a few words the best I could and said that I wanted to come home. I was desperate to receive the reaction I felt any mother should give to her sobbing child, compassion. My traumatic response to her simple question should have been met with alarm and comforting arms. I should have been told that of course I can come home, with no immediate explanation necessary, for my misery was so apparent, but I will never forget what happened instead. She sat there, emotionless, never leaving her seat. She had been against me marrying Kade, and I had adamantly ignored her advice to wait. She knew that we were too young to take on the responsibilities of a marriage, but my inexperienced heart was blinded by love, and I had ignored her warnings. Her response to my naïve misjudgment broke my heart. I knew her perception to my tears was just that; too young to handle marriage, but if she only knew the truth of my despair, and if I had been met with sympathy and concern, it would have given me the courage to tell her what I had been through; what he had done to me, but instead, she took this opportunity to teach me a lesson. I could see that she wanted so badly to say, “I told you so,” and in a way, she still did. What was said to me were the final nails that sealed shut the coffin of my devastated life. Her twenty words created twenty nails that would trap me in that dreaded existence for twenty years. “Nicki, this was the choice you made. It’s up to you to put in the effort and make it work.” That was it, tough love gone wrong. Every ounce of hope drained from my body. I was desperate for comfort from the one person I felt I had to turn to, and now that was gone. In my young mind, home with my mom was the only option, but now, she had turned out the light, leaving me alone in the dark.

How much time had gone by? I had nothing else to do but get lost in the past, and now I could barely feel my legs, they were stiff and numb. I stretched them out and tried to readjust my position. It created a slight relief as I felt the pins and needles set in. I lifted the hair off my shoulders and reveled in the caress the night air created on my damp neck. I thought about how Kade managed to manipulate everything to his advantage. There was no compromise with him. He was harsh and unfeeling. If I cried, he would mock me. “Oh, you’re crying now?” Making faces of a baby wiping away tears. He had zero sympathy for my feelings or frustration, nothing was ever his fault, his cheating, his disrespect, his indiscretions, every sexual endeavor he forced me to do, nothing; not even leaving tonight with those girls, there would be no apology for it, his energy sucking reactions to my concerns taught me it’s better to say nothing. He was a boa constrictor, suffocating my voice, creating unbearable tension anytime I tried to say anything. He was intentionally teaching me to obey and causing me to realize there was more peace if I just stayed silent.

I lacked every skill possible to combat Kade’s narcissistic personality. His failures and bad decisions were blamed on me. I would be provoked, my emotions pushed to the verge of explosion and then told it was my fault for starting the fight. Any reasonable conversation I would try to have about how he had hurt my feelings or humiliated me, would backfire, I was told that it was a weakness of mine, because I let it bother me, and it was my responsibility to find a way to live with it. Anything I said would be met with him twisting my words and claiming that I was the one who treated him that way. I was in a continuous tennis match; everything was bounced back to me. If he couldn’t deflect a good point I was making, he would divert it by claiming that wasn’t why he was mad and change the subject.

Kade was childish and selfish. He greedily bled me dry mentally, physically, and psychologically. If I weren’t constantly comforting him when he was sad, babying him when he was sick, cheering him up when he was down, or prostituting my body for his sexual desire, he would accuse me of not caring about him, and not contributing to our marriage. He had an unrealistic expectation that no human could ever reach. His constant negativity would create gloom and tension throughout the house. He would pout and stomp around anytime something didn’t go his way. His degree of self-importance and expectation was all consuming. I was not allowed to have a bad day, or be sad, if I wasn’t always happy, or showing concern for his wellbeing then a full-blown fight would ensue, because I was being selfish. He had groomed me into compliance. It was emotionally easier to succumb to his abuse than display any resistance and stand up for my dignity. I would be gaslighted, antagonized, provoked, pushed to the point of such utter aggravation, that out of desperation to be heard, I would crack, with tears streaming down my face, I would scream, shout, and beg for understanding. He would call me crazy, tell me I have crazy eyes, continue the torment and name calling until it caused me to say hurtful things back, things he would make sure to never let me live down. In a state of utter defeat, I would fall to the floor, a heap of emotion, losing my mind, drowning in sadness, and the only thing my reaction achieved, was showing him exactly what he wanted to see, a crazy person. Now his words were true, and he could hold that over my head for the rest of my life.

When he was mad, I would be ignored for days, forced to live in silence. I wasn’t worth a glance or gesture. This treatment was my punishment, and even though I didn’t start the argument, an apology from me was the only way to make this behavior go away. My self-worth was gone. I was forced to worship the ground he walked on, always boosting his ego and pretending to the people, friends, and family around us that he was an amazing husband, and I was lucky to have him. He was charismatic and charming to anyone who knew him superficially, so for me to enhance his character raised no red flags, it seemed legitimate. The emotional and sexual abuse I was enduring behind the scenes was a secret, and heaven forbid the asperity I would receive if I ever gave anyone a peek into what was going on behind closed doors. Who would I tell anyway? I felt I had only myself to rely on, to find strength in, and to hopefully count on to someday find a way out of this ordeal. The anger that smoldered inside of me became bricks of resentment. Bricks, one by one building a wall around my heart, my trust, and my belief that a good man existed.

The noise of a loud exhaust caused me to jump, bringing me back to my current surroundings. “How late was it?” I checked my watch, almost three in the morning. My senses were on high alert, I felt uneasy and vulnerable. I didn’t think anyone was around, and I prayed that no one would come around. The only sound was the mellow buzzing from the bugs swarming around the streetlights. I was a sitting duck. I knew Kade couldn’t relate to the concerns a woman must think about every single day, the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind, but it would be effortless for someone to take me into the nearby trees and do anything they wanted. Kade had taken the car. I had no money on me, and there wasn’t a payphone in sight; I didn’t have anyone to call anyway. I knew the decision to walk home would take hours and open me up to exposure that I didn’t want. Besides, the wrath I would get from Kade if I wasn’t waiting when he showed up kept me glued to that step like a bug stuck to fly paper. I couldn’t give him any reason to be mad at me. I imagined him walking around the perimeter of the building irritated that he couldn’t find me, fuming because his night was going on longer than he wanted it to. I would get lectured about how tired he was, and how tomorrow was already ruined because he wouldn’t have enough sleep. There would be no blame aimed toward Brad, the girls, or the fact that he was really the reason we weren’t already home in bed, only me, because I was not right there waiting for him when he arrived. How sad, that even though he was clearly in the wrong, I was the one terrified of being in trouble.

Another thirty minutes went by when I finally saw some headlights in the distance. “Oh, dear lord, please be Kade.” I could not bear the mortified feeling of anyone seeing me sitting alone, like a fool in the dark, just the thought of Brad, and those girls seeing me sent chills of embarrassment down my spine. I knew they would snicker, knowing I sat out there for hours like a loyal dog, forgetting about the abandonment, and only feeling relief because my owner had returned. I was a joke. Kade had turned me into a joke.

When the car got closer, I could see that it was Kade. He pulled up to where I sat and acted like everything was fine, but I expected nothing less. The girls stumbled out of the backseat giggling and drunk. I waited for some sort of acknowledgement, but was invisible, so instead, I stood up and stretched out my legs while Kade and Brad joked around. They were laughing about a game they played with the girls, referring to it as “kissing circle.” I stood there having still not received a glance from any of them.

Brad eventually took a few steps toward his car, so Kade hollered a goodbye to all of them and looked in my direction. I walked toward our car and sat in the passenger seat. We drove home in silence. I did not get an apology and I did not ask any questions. He acted as though he had done nothing wrong. I sat there somber, starring down at my hands. They were softly folded in my lap. I held back tears for fear of being reprimanded and focused on my broken spirit. I was internally grieving the loss of who I used to be. My young life was wasting away, and unbeknownst to me at the time, it would continue to waste away in that sickening, dysfunctional nightmare for the next twenty years.