(Dear Reader - Refresh you memory with "Erica" dated 7-12-11....enjoy!)
Erica watched the old woman, Mrs Warner - Celeste? - leave the hospital room. She felt her heart race as the door closed. She knew what was coming next, and her head began throbbing as Dr. Swanzy started her exam. First the shiny, bright pin light in Erica's eyes, then the back and forth movement of Dr. Swanzy's long brown index finger. Erica followed the doctor's moving finger with fear-filled eyes as she formulated the answer to the question that she knew the doctor would inevitably ask. Dr. Swanzy lifted the arms of her stethoscope to her ears. Erica closed her eyes. Dr. Swanzy tugged Erica's gown down and Erica stopped breathing. Dr. Swanzy planted the stethoscope just over Erica's heart and said, "Breath." Erica took a long, deep, breath. She exhaled. She took another breath, and as she exhaled, Dr. Swanzy untied the opening of Erica's hospital gown and gently moved the stethoscope to another spot on Erica's chest. "Now, my dear child, tell me about these bruises."
"I slipped getting out of the car." I walked into a wall." "I fell in the bathtub and hit the side walls."
"I slipped getting out of the bathtub." I walked into the car door." I tripped on a rug and fell into the wall."
"Iwasn'twatchingwalkedintowallhitchestopeningcardoorslippedcleaningoutbathtubfellslippedtrippedslippedfell."
All of the excuses that Erica had ever used poured out of her mouth! They tumbled over and over each other, rushing to tell the truth that had been silent for so long. Every excuse used to cover up the fact that, starting on the night of their honeymoon, Pedro had abused her almost every day of their twelve year marriage ran, jumped, escaped from her lips!
Pinches, slaps, hits, punches, bites, kicks! Ears grabbed, arms twisted, wrists bent, steps tripped! Shoving, choking, biting! Shouting, yelling, screaming, whimpers, whispers...whisperings...pleading...please baby, please baby! Please! Don't! Pleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon'tplease......
Erica blushed, pink filling in the cafe ole spaces between the red and purple fist size bruises splattered across her breasts. She reached up and pulled the hospital gown up to her neck, knocking the stethoscope from her chest, and turned her body away from the doctor. Tears rolled down Erica's face, unchecked, as she begin to eat at herself, tear at the inside of her cheek with her tongue. Dr. Swanzy reached out and gently rolled Erica towards her, murmuring, "Oh, my poor, poor child! When did this happen?" Erica's eyes met and held Dr. Swanzy's eyes. She heard the bell clock down on Montgomery Street, below the hospital where it stood on "the hill" mark time, and then time again and again..."Tell!, Tell!, Tell!, Tell!,Tell!, Tell!, Tell!
It was time to Tell! "Last night.", Erica whispered.
"And so, my dear, what is it that we are going to do about this?" asked Dr. Swanzy, "...especially in light of your pregnancy?"
I'm talking when it rains, it pours! Pregnant again, this is number nine! I want to . . . Whatever will Erica do? Will Celeste be there for her? Will Carmen get her behind kicked (and yes, I do feel terrible for wanting a sister to experience pain BUT still, she has totally earned it!)?
ReplyDeleteWOW - why is Erica still with that man? Everyday for 12 years, he beats her??? That is extreme, but I guess it really does happen. And, after that long, she'd probably feel quite strange without the abuse! But dayum! Ok, I'm over blaming the victim! How is she gonna manage nine (9 - and that's assuming she's not carrying multiples)? Hey, if she can handle getting her butt whipped everyday; rain or shine, pregnant or not, and keep getting up -- she can handle this! But dayum (wait, I'm getting redundant)!! (The urge to beat the shyte outta Carmen has returned, but I think I’ve got it under control again now.)
Just as an aside, I find it incredulous that a man as lacking as Pedro can work it in the bedroom. That's just way beyond my ability to envision, because in my world, the men who can rock it have feelings, intelligence, compassion, sensitivity and MOST importantly self-control. They know how to put their stuff in check until mine is FULLY handled. That's not the type of man who resorts to smacking, kicking, biting or other physical manifestations (punching) designed to debase, humiliate and cause shame or other negative feelings. (Of course some of the really good men know that a titillation, possibly a little ouch can extend that sweet moment and make sumting, sumting going on!)
But dayum (yeah, yeah – but the story demands it), this is beyond a cliff hanger. This is a "somebody hurt him right now, and I mean it" moment. You better make sure he gets his (and sooner would be much better)! Wow – another example of why we MUST raise our sons and not just love them!
This just keeps pulling me in deeper! Have I told you that I'm most interested in reading the BOOK?