Until Death . . .

UNTIL DEATH....... Chapter 2 & 3

I graduated high school and left home on the same day. That was a glorious day indeed, one I had been waiting for, counting the hours - the minutes! - until it was finally upon me . High school had been hell but home was even worse. Nine years of systematic abuse by my stepmother and father was over and there was nothing, I thought, between myself and happiness. Nothing but memories and their affects.

At the age of eighteen - before leaving home - my bedtime was eight - thirty pm. During the summertime it was still daylight for another good hour at least when I turned in. I lay in bed with the windows open, listening to the neighborhood kids playing their games, laughing, sometimes fighting, but always there to remind me that I wasn't high enough on the social ladder to have the same privileges as all the other kids I knew.

We lived in a sub-division populated by a good many teens and most of them had their own cars. Envy and resentment grew in me as I lay in bed listening to the laughter, the loud stereos, the boys showing off their driving skills by speeding up and down the streets, squealing their tires, the girls cheering them on.

I wanted to be a part of the group of peers that made me feel so jealous but deep down inside - in that secret knowing place everyone has - I knew I couldn't fit in at this late date in my life. I wouldn't be able to overcome the inferiority complex that had crippled me just as seriously as if I had no legs. Maybe worse. My secret wish to magically become "normal", to become just one of the kids, with my own friends, my own stories of the dates I would naturally have as one of them - my wish to experience the enchanting and seemingly exciting life of the average teen-ager would never come to pass. Fortunately, most of the time, with that youth comes a strength that keeps hope alive, even under the worst of circumstances, and therefore I survived life into an adulthood full of lies and self destruction, left with only the ability of pretense and make believe. Of course at that time I was unaware of the unrealness of my self-created world: a world in which I could change the bad things in life into good things and I struggled with that everyday, the actual "change" itself remaining in the future - sometimes close, sometimes distant but always a possibility or so I thought.

Now I rewind my mental movie projecter back to the beautiful last rays of a hot summer day in my eighteenth year, a couple of months after graduating high school. It was a special day, one never to be forgotten, at least not by me, for this was the day I met the love of my life, Terry Smith. Very handsome, full of charming personality and character. Terry fell in love with me at the same time I fell for him: at first sight. It was an instant attraction and this chemistry between us was very strong . It was the thing that pulled us together in the beginning and helped to hold us together in the years to come.

Terry was nineteen and, like myself, had been raised in a violent, dysfunctional family and had become the resultant wild teen-ager- which, when I was honest with myself, I had to admit was a secret attraction. He was so full of life and vitality, having an endless supply of energy that kept any situation in which he might be involved interesting and lively but also often landed him or someone with him in trouble with the authorities and a reputation to match. Most people, especially women, were drawn to him and his wild ways while others were afraid of him and steered clear of his sometime firecracker temper which was famous in the little town he grew up in. That temper was backed up by a strong, muscular body and an above average talent for fighting. He actually enjoyed fighting. He enjoyed most anything physical for that matter.

Terry and I were alike in a lot of ways, although his problems were a lot more obvious than my own hidden anger. I was terribly unaware of this emotion that had grown inside my psyche like an invisible cancer until I witnessed it in Terry a couple of times. At eighteen I was ready to tackle the world, especially when I looked backward into the gaping hole where a childhood was supposed to be and found  a dark picture of sad and fearful memories. I turned those feelings and memories inward while Terry turned his outward. We made quite the couple and if not for the violence we probably would have appeared the perfect match.

Naturally dark blonde hair with sun-bleached streaks made Terrys eyes sparkle like blue crystal and gave a constant impression of inner laughter and mischievousness. The combination made people want to be in Terrys company and to get to know him. Add the fact that he was a born hustler to that and you have a winner. Only his violent temper held him back from being or doing anything he wanted. Growing up around violence myself made Terrys temper seem not so out of the ordinary -  to me - and I actually felt inferior to him much of the time, but also proud of his unusual assets at the beginning of our relationship, before I got to know the real Terry. I was proud he wanted me to be his wife but as I've already indicated, I wasn't exactly a study in intelligence.

At this time in my already screwed up life, I was homeless, jobless, friendless, disfellowshipped by the Jehovah's Witnesses, and disowned by my family - through the disfellowshipment. I was so overwhelmed with problems I didn't know where to to begin in solving them. I lived moment to moment. Just getting through the day out in the world was something I didn't know how to do with any success, so I just tried to find my happiness and a love for life in any way I could. The way to happiness for me turned toward drugs and alcohol. Terry and I found this road together or at least he showed it to me shortly after he found it.
                              Lother’s Beach


I had spent that day at the popular Lother’s  Beach trying to deepen what  was already a good start on a tan and drinking beer with some acquaintances. I might add I was feeling pretty good. Without making it a conscience decision I had by this time in my life discarded any plans for a successful and happy future. I had no tools with which to work in making a “normal” life, so I lived as happily as I could with whatever presented itself at the moment. There was no tomorrow for me. I felt that my only responsibility was to treat my fellow human-being fairly and help anyone who needed help if possible. Mostly all I thought about was escaping bad feelings. Booze and drugs did that for me. And love.  But love was not so easy to find so I settled for getting high every day and in any way I could, unafraid of overdosing and dying. I was more afraid of  living than of dying.

Laying there in the bright sunshine  in my bikini,  my hair long and sun-bleached  I knew I looked good and that made me feel good ; I liked the attention it brought me  but I believed  my looks were my only asset, especially when I wasn’t high. When straight and sober I  felt terribly inferior to all others no matter how much makeup I used or how smooth and golden my tan was.

I wanted to always look good because I thought that was the only way I could get a man to love me. Why I needed that so badly, I don’t know but in the most secret place in my heart I wanted a good, clean life with a good man, have children, and become a respectable part of the community.  I didn’t want anyone to know I wasn’t capable of community duties  nor did I know how to get a good man to fall in love with me so I pretended to live the life I chose. I chose nothing ; I just existed from one day to the next. A real party girl.

Late afternoon was my favorite time of day, especially after a day spent outside in the sun; The sounds of the whooper wills and other night birds, the  tree frogs and bull frogs croaking, the magic in the occasional balmy breeze - all gave me that special feeling of romance even when I was alone. But this night I wasn’t going to be alone. I knew that the moment my eyes met Terry’s at our first meeting.

  I had been invited to a small party and just before that first moment , even before introduction, we knew we’d be together before the night was over. That’s how strong the attraction between us was and there was only one thing stopping us. Terry’s female companion. Normally I would not move on another persons date but he took her home early and nature just took its course after he returned. I was so giddy from the butterflies in my stomach each time he looked at me I thought I might start giggling like a child at any moment. I was relieved somewhat when he  left to take her home. It’s crazy but I felt like I could breathe easier and relax better after they were gone,  yet I could hardly wait for him to return. 

  Darkness was settling in and I found a big oak tree with a swing at  the edge of the yard, close enough to the house to see by the outside yellow bug light. My beer and I took up residence there and watched the others playing in the pool as we all proceded to get high and drunk . I wished I could be outgoing like some of the others with their sparkling personalities. That’s why I turned to drugs and alcohol.  It loosened me up to get high and I  felt good  that night, even before I saw Terry’s  car speeding up the driveway. I had secretly hoped he’d come back after taking the other girl home. Then the butterflies in my tummy really started fluttering. He got out of his car and walked toward me as if we were the only people there. He was not bashful, quite to the contrary. He had a ready smile and could compliment a woman enough to make her day brighter with just a look.  That was the look he was giving me that night and I was sure he was aware of my appreciation.

  Terry stopped at a tub full of ice and beer and fished out two long-necked bottled beers. He opened mine for me and handing it to me asked, “Mind some company?”

  “Sure”,  I said, “ and thanks“ , indicating the beer.



By this time I  had drank enough alcohol to make  me fairly uninhibited but my shyness ran pure and deep so for a time I gave him the stage. He told me about his adventures as a traveler and an outlaw.  From my own experiences with authority figures, namely my parents, being an outlaw wasn’t necessarily a bad thing , especially when the crimes committed aren’t related to child abuse, sexual perversion, of a violent nature  or one of the REAL BADDIES  He talked about stealing from the big stores and of armed robbery of a New York loan company but mostly his jail time was spent for things like drunk and disorderly, barroom fights, vandalism, and of alcohol and drug related crimes.

While  Terry talked I wondered why he was talking to me instead of one of the other pretty girls there.  God knows they were leaving no doubt as to their desires to be with him. Well, two or three of them anyway. But he gave them no attention. It was always that way with me when a good-looking man flirted with me; I honestly couldn’t figure out what the attraction was except maybe they liked my looks because as far as I could see I had nothing else  going for me. Even so I  was pretty sure I wouldn’t win any beauty contest, either.  I never pursued a man because rejection would have destroyed my already delicate ego. I wouldn’t give that a chance to happen by acting  disinterested in all  of them. I could be friendly without giving off any ‘come hither’ signals. I just sort of became like “one of the guys” yet was never accused of being gay. I kept my feminine features intact.

He talked about his nightmare of a childhood and  of his saint of a grandmother, who gave him the good qualities he retained from the time spent with her as a child. I listened, pretending to pay more attention to his words than I really was. I heard enough, though, to know he was no model citizen. Wilder than most, I’d say, yet I still didn’t see him as a bad person. I saw him striking out at a world that had been very unfair and cruel to him. Life had been a bitch to me, too. We were on the same side. I understood his anger and was beyond caring what people thought. I felt like  - “I know I’m really  a good person; I’m just no hypocrite like those who pretend to be respectable and live with lies about who they really are. So as long as I know I’m a good person, that’s all that matters as long as I hurt
nobody.”

After loosening up a bit more I told him my story. Of course I had no true adventure stories - how could I after being grounded for eighteen years and then being disfellowshiped directly  after graduating high school? -  but when I told him about the abuse I
endured at home he told me that he would never let anyone hurt me again. He told me that he would protect me for the rest of my life if I would stay with him.

I knew this was strange talk  coming from a total stranger, no matter how charming and good looking he was.  Of course the booze was giving him  ideas  he may not have had otherwise but I loved hearing them just the same. He was making promises that he absolutely meant at the time,  from his heart. He wasn’t just trying to get in my pants. But it didn’t matter anyway. Nobody had ever said such things to me or made me feel so safe. I needed that, to feel safe and cared for. Desperately.

I had just sort of drifted into this crowd of people I was hanging with at the time. I let my friends choose me instead of the other way around. Party people gravitated toward me, even before I met Terry,  probably because  I couldn’t cope with what normal society expected of me, so I pretended to actually want to stay high and party to hide my weaknesses. In reality I was medicating a serious problem with booze and drugs and I guess that’s what the others were doing, too. Back then I thought they were healthy, normal people choosing to party a lot because they wanted to, not because they needed to. When I started noticing the track-marks and how those little red spots turned into big, ugly sores and how those sweet personalities became  monstrous and desperate for a fix. ‘ It was just certain people who got  that way, let it go that  far. The weak ones who couldn’t stop when they saw the signs of addiction. Not like me. I could control my drug use.  That’s what I told  myself anyway. A lot of us made that mistake.
                                                                                                                          Anyway, back to the party. Terry and I talked all night. I’d never
had such feelings. Up until this night I had felt nothing but worthlessness about myself, hence the reason nobody cared.

“Let me take care of you”, he said. “ I promise nobody will ever hurt
you again. As long as you are with me you’re safe.”

He could never have guessed how urgently my heart had sought those very words every day of my life -  how much I needed love, pure and simple  (well, maybe not so simple). I felt like my very soul was bleeding big grateful tears over the remote possibility that anyone might love me that much.


Before we knew it the sun was peeking over the horizon. It had been my best night. Everything was perfect:  the balmy atmosphere that made me feel we were on the beach, his sexy voice, a shooting star that I took as a good-luck sign, his warm touch, his tender kisses, and even the lightening bugs that reminded me of a happy moment in my childhood. A night which would have bored most people was my best night because I was with Terry; This night I became blind to anything but my new found love for him. And Terry acted like he felt the same way about me. Finally, God had sent me an angel and life would forevermore be worth living. No!  It was more. It was better than that!

Suzie Reed owned the house where we had the party and she invited Terry and me to stay at her place until we decided what we were going to do: get jobs, a place to live, etc. I dreamed of the day we could set up housekeeping together,  just the two of us.  This within twenty-four hours of meeting him. I knew this type of thinking and behaving was  not normal but I also convinced myself we were different from the rest of society, special because of our own special  prior experiences which were often extreme.   

Even though we’d been awake all night I was still wide awake and the sun was fully up with what seemed like thousands of birds raising a ruckus. Terry obviously was also a  night owl. He suggested  we go for a ride in his Shelby and I suspected he wanted to show off its’ ability to blow most other cars off the road  with its’ impressive speed. I thought at any moment we’d be stopped by the law we were so obvious. The car had glass pack exhaust which made it especially loud which to auto enthusiasts  was a good thing. I should have been frightened traveling at such a high speed but I actually got caught up in the thrill of it all: fast cars,  moonshine whiskey,  pills of every color and shape,  pot,  chemical  street drugs - especially methamphetamine - , and just in general living a twenty-four-seven party.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
Libby Lee Gentry Sewell Lawler
Copyright 2000


       



   



Saturday, February 18, 2012
Copyright - 2000