Copyright © Richard Allen Gutierrez, 2011
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On The Way Home
by
Richard Allen inspi’ John Allen (Rumbling Heart)
I held her clothing up to my face, took in a deep breath, and asked myself if her scent was something I would want to remember. I felt its textures in my hands and ran my fingertips up and down the soft and silky materials, thinking that I might just miss them after I was gone.
When she’d come home, I was always there to greet her and I often stood up from where ever I was sitting so I could put my arms around her. I’d stand, walk over to her, embrace her, and if I were lucky, she’d return my affection. More often than not, she’d just stand there and when I finally pulled back, I’d notice that sour look on her face, as if she’d rather have been touched by a bloody dog carcass and not me. Toward the end of it all though, I shouldn’t have been surprised by how distant she was. I remember packing up my car the day I left and thinking to myself that I just wasted almost ten years of my life with a woman that never really loved me for who I was.
It wasn’t unusual for her to try to control me and tell me what to do, what to wear, and who I could spend time with. It also wasn’t unheard of for her to get angry at me whenever I’d speak to someone on the phone. She’d always accuse me of seeing other women and I often asked her why. She tried her best to tell me that I wasn’t someone who could be trusted. While I gave her all the personal space she needed, sadly, she would not do the same for me. I should have seen it very early on, but denial can be a very strong motivator in the worst ways.
She was extremely possessive and it wasn’t long before I began to feel as if I were a piece of property and not her significant other. I kept telling myself through all those years that I was just overreacting and that as time went on, she would eventually lighten up and let me live the life I always wanted to. I once told her that I had dreams of writing professionally and having my work read by numerous people, regardless of if I got paid for it or not. I told her that I loved thinking up stories and that sitting down in front of the computer and creating small worlds and interesting characters was something I felt I was good at. It became commonplace for me to write about my life and occasional, I’d include her in it as well. I never wrote bad things about her as I felt it was unbecoming of a husband to write terrible things about his wife. At one point, I’d actually come up with over one thousand pages of material in less than a few months. It was something I was very proud of and I wanted her to know about it so she could see how much drive her husband had. She didn’t care though. The only thing she seemed to care about was money and when I had plenty to give her, she put up with me. When funds ran low though, she hated me with every fiber of her being.
I never really understood her in that way. I knew that money was at least somewhat important and with the money I did have, I gave her nice things. My day job provided us with a nice apartment in a good part of town. We could afford to go out to eat whenever we wanted. I could afford to give her cash so she could go out and get her hair cut and her nails done and buy some new clothes. I know it’s been said that money doesn’t buy happiness, but with her, I began to feel as if that were the truth. I soon started to realize that the only times she was “happy” was when she was getting something from me that she wanted. When I helped her buy a new car, she was very pleasant and attentive toward me. A week later, after all the paperwork had been signed, it was right back to her old way of living.
I admit that I was a fool for thinking that she would ever change. I guess I’m the type of person who always wants to see the best things in people; sometimes even to the point of being delusional.
One other thing that she wanted from me was something I thankfully never gave her. For several years, she wanted to have a child and I was against it. At the time, we were both still in our 20s so I figured that we had all sorts of time to start a family if that was what we both wanted. I always considered having a child of my own, but not to the point of obsessing over it. She was much more into it than I was at the time as I was more focused on living out the best years of my life and thinking that once I was in my 30s, we could then start a family if we were in the position to do so. She wasn’t happy with that in the least. In fact, during many arguments, it wasn’t unusual for her to get after me, stating that I didn’t love her simply because I wanted to wait before having children. We could be arguing over something completely unrelated, but sure enough, she would twist things until she was able to use that argument against me simply so she could win. I never understood that about her. She would do absolutely anything she could to “win” an argument with me; as if that were the goal. I always used to think that the goal was reaching a decision about something together, as a couple, but she never saw it that way.
As time marched on and the arguing continued along with a few other things that led to the eventual end of our marriage, just as a way to give her less ammunition against me, I told her that I was ok with us having a baby. In a way, I thought at the time that maybe having a child would bring us closer together and also force her to mature beyond her materialistic ways. Again, that was my lack of wisdom getting the best of me. Although I knew I could afford to have a baby financially, looking back, I am glad she and I never conceived. As it turned out, she was just looking at the subject as a way of winning arguments with me and when I changed my stance on having a child with her, she instantly turned off to the subject and at times refused to speak of it. It was after several months of this that I realized she never wanted to have a baby with me and if she ever did, she would have only used the baby as a way to bilk additional money out of me or to use it as a way of making me feel guilty about things.
You see, in this screwed up world, whenever people breakup, the courts general side with the mother as far as who gets custody of the child. Regardless of the fact that I was more mature than she was and that I made better money made little difference to the courts. It’s a generally accepted rule that the child with go with the mother, regardless of circumstance. The only time that they might hesitate would be if the mother was a known drug addict or something along those lines. Even if the mother was unemployed, they would still be granted custody of the child which is absolutely ridiculous. Looking back, I am thankful that she never became pregnant as I know that all these years later she would probably still be using that child as a way to control me. Being the person that I knew her as, I wouldn’t be surprised that she would have almost immediately started poisoning the mind of my child with ideas that I never wanted them and that I “abandoned” them. I’ve seen people do that sort of thing and I find it disgusting as they never once think of how it will affect the child years down the road.
As I loaded my items in my car that day while she was still at work, I remember thinking that this was truly the end. I was finally ready to leave her. I couldn’t take it anymore and I wasn’t about to let her control me the way she had been. She took advantage of my love and kindness only to take me for all the money I had. She got me to buy her lavish items so she could tell her friends that I was under her thumb. I won’t even remark on the abuse I suffered by her hand because that, in a way, is the easy way out. I’d like to think the reason I left her was because she was controlling, conniving, and an overall evil woman. That would be more than enough to justify my departure, but when the courts looked at the divorce papers, it did ultimately come down to the abuse I suffered at her hand. At that point, I no longer cared though as I got what I wanted. I wanted out and I got out. It took me almost a decade to see through the fog and realized that she was never going to be the woman I thought she was. She would only want to use me and would have never really loved me in the slightest.
I was her meal ticket for so long and when I was down on my luck, looking to my wife to be there for me, she might as well have been a million miles away. I should have seen early on that we were just two very different people. She was much more materialistic and I was more loving and caring and affectionate. Those are three traits you’d think most women would want, but not her. The one thing she saw in me was my ability to make money and for several years, I did just that. I took care of her and gave her all she wanted. When I wasn’t able to do that for her, she couldn’t handle that.
I’m glad that I was finally able to leave her. I was sick and I needed to be near people that cared for me, and being in San Francisco wasn’t helping me at all. I needed to be in Eureka with my parents. I needed to do what some of us need every now and then. Sometimes, you just need to go home. That’s what I needed. Thankfully, I still had the presence of mind to do that. If I didn’t, I have no idea how different my life would have been.
I can look back now and be ok with it though. I can look back and think about those hard times and it’s no longer disheartening. In a strange sort of way, I think I forgave her a long time ago because I know if I didn’t, that bitterness I felt toward her might have stayed inside of me for the rest of my life.
I look at my life now and while it’s nowhere near perfect, it’s far better than it was. I’ve grown as a person and met people that I might not have ever met if I’d stayed with her. In fact, the last few years of my life where everything a person could imagine. They were amazing and heartbreaking and loving and dark, all while still letting me know that what I was living was in fact life; a real life. Even now as I sit on this airplane, flying back to Eureka, I think I have even more life I have to live as I am considering doing something that might once more change my direction and if I do decide to do it, I’m not exactly sure where it will lead me. The person I am looking to now knows me better than anyone ever has in my life. I guess it’s really my choice though. I just hope that she’ll forgive my idiocy and let us have that long awaited talk that I know we need to have. In a way, you could say it’s been a lifetime in the making. I just hope that when all is said and done that she will tell me what I need to know and let me know where it is I stand in her life and in her heart.
After the death of my second wife, I thought that was it; I was ready to just cash in my chips and call it a life. I thought that I was done dealing with the things that life was more than willing to toss my way. I’m not sure where my life is going now, but if it happens the way I think it will, then maybe…just maybe…things will change once more. I don’t know about it all though. I mean how many times can one person change their destiny in a single lifetime? I guess when I land here in a couple of hours, I’m going to find out. I’m still not sure what to do about it all. Really, I’m not. In a way, it’s all up to her. I’m tempted to call, even now, but I made myself promise that I’d wait till I got home so I could really sit and think about things. Where will my life end up? How will my story end? I’m not sure. I’m really not sure. All I know is that I’ve lived a remarkable life and looking back, even at the years of abuse, it seems as if it was all worth and the pain and heartache. If I can make this one last thing happen for me, then maybe this isn’t just a sad ending. Maybe this is a new beginning, an “Afterstory” to this part of my life. When I get home and walk through that house, venture outside onto my deck and look up to the stars, maybe someone will see fit to give me an answer. Maybe the person I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with will find a way to communicate with me and let know what I should do. In a way, she already has, but that’s a whole different story.
-John Allen – December, 2015
About the Author
Richard Allen is the author of 3 novels: Rumbling Heart, Recorded Butterflies, and Emily Martin, books 1, 2, and 3 in the 4 part Rumbling Heart Series. He is also the author of the short stories Last Night and Christina as well as various poems and a handful of unpublished songs.
Richard was born in Palestine, Texas, a small town southeast of Dallas, Texas. After Living in Austin and Round Rock, Texas for almost a decade, he now resides in Corpus Christi, Texas.