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A Negative Place

A Negative Place My husband Andrew was an orphan. He had no family members and very few friends. I was convinced, that I was his only family and friend. So imagine my eagerness when he said "we were going to meet an old friend he grew up with named Shell". I would finally have a chance to talk to someone who knew Andrew, someone who could speak of his character when he was younger and the things that made him tick. I admit, there was a lot I didn't know about my husband. At the time, I believed I knew all that needed to know about Andrew was that I loved him and trusted him. Shell lived in Queens, a part of New York City that was unfamiliar to me, but I enjoyed it's quiet streets. We arrived at Shell's house around three o'clock in the afternoon. Shell lived in a high rise complex; in a one bedroom apartment. The place was very neat, spacious and sparsely furnished. We sat around the floor on pillows, listening to music and talking. Shell prepared some drinks for the three of us, serving them with fruits and ladyfinger sandwiches. I thought this was very elegant. We sat around on the floor, smiling and making small talk about popular music, not at all the kind of talk what I was expecting. I thought the conversation would be about Andrew and Shell, their years of growing up together. This was my first clue that things weren't quite right with these two men. Then Shell and Andrew excused themselves and went into the bedroom to talk. This made me wonder, what could they be saying that they couldn't be said in front of me? A few minutes later when they returned, Shell said he had to meet his girlfriend downstairs. This information pleased me a little, because I really wasn't very comfortable sitting alone with two men in an apartment; although,one was my husband. While Shell was out of the apartment, Andrew refilled my glass and put on some more music. He said, "I have to tell you something, Shell likes you". I told him that I thought Shell was alright, but surprised that he didn't talk much about the two of them growing up together. My husband then said, No! Shell really likes you, and I want you to like him too." There was no smile on my husbands face when he told me this; his words seemed to have a hidden meaning. What ever the meaning was, I knew that he meant business. Andrew got up and went into the kitchen and poured us two more drinks. Calling me into the kitchen to get the drink, I told him I didn't want anymore to drink and he slapped me so hard, the force knocked me down. He said, "get up and drink the damn drink, before I f--- you up in here". I did what he demanded. My thoughts raced to find an ally or a route of escape. Shell returned with his girlfriend. Her name was Fawn and she was friendly to me. I felt embarassed, because I knew she could see the fresh bruise on my face from the slap. I started to feel a little woosey from the drink, I thought. Andrew suggested Fawn take me in the bedroom to lay down for a while. I told Andrew that I would rather go home. He asked, if I wanted him to come in the room with me, I said no. Andrew came into the room anyway and said that Shell and Fran both want to make love to me and I better not embarass `him by acting like a kid. The drowsiness I felt earlier, was from something my husband put in my drink. As I slipped in and out of consiousness, I could see and feel Fawn touching and kissing me, then Shell. At first, I thought I was dreaming until I saw my husband having intercourse with Fawn and then with Shell. I was hurt. I had never felt a pain like this before, the betrayal and humiliation were unbearable; it made my chest hurt so badly, that it was hard to breathe. While the three of them were busy with each other, I told them that I had to go to the bathroom. My blouse was open, my bra was pulled up over my breasts and my jeans were unfastened. I managed to pull myself together and then sneak out of the apartment. The pain I felt was so intense, that I ran down the stairs. I had no idea what floor of the building I was on, the stairs went on forever, it seemed. Although I was drugged, I ran until I found a train station. I had no money. I tried speaking to the token clerk, asking for help to get on the train, but he just ignored me. He ignored me in much the same way the homeless are ignored in the streets. I asked people coming into the station for help and again was ignored. Not one person in this suburban neighborhood would help me. My mind in a state of panic, I asked the clerk to call the police. I was pacing back and forth, waiting for the police to arrive, wanting to tell them that I had been raped and needed help, feelings of alienation enveloped me when I realized that a police officer was never going to show up. Taking one last look around for the police, I spotted my husband coming into the train station, he was running, breathing hard, sweating and very angry. Trying to get as far away from him as I could, I jumped the turnstile just as the train pulled into the station and got on the train. I didn't even know if I was heading in the right direction for home. Reaching Manhattan safely, I went to my parents house. I never told my parents about the incident in Queens. What I did say, was that Andrew and I could not get along anymore; that I needed to stay with them for the remainder of the weekend. During the weekend, I contemplated leaving my husband. My feelings of fear, indecisiveness and humiliation could not persuade me to remain in this environment against my desire to leave such an oppressive relationship. Sunday night, I decided to ask my father and brothers to help me move my belongs out of the apartment on Monday, they agreed with no questions asked. I wasn't very pleased with myself for sneaking out of Andrew's life, I would have preferred to look him in the eye and tell him that I was leaving, but I chose this method because I had a legitimate concerns for my saftey. On monday morning, after I was sure Andrew had gone to work, I went to my apartment and packed everything I owned. With the help of my father and brothers, I left Andrew and moved out for good. Four weeks later, I found an apartment in Brooklyn and moved in. I knew very few people in my new neighborhood, but this helped me to feel safer. I could relax without the threats of violence, intimidation and the perversions of my oppressor. I was comfortable, self-sustaining and free. Bibliography:

Word Count: 1320