On the Inside
1. STRAPPED IN
You had no one to trust so you emailed your lawyer. Subject: Know of a good divorce lawyer? It was the Saturday after Christmas, but he replied in 42 minutes. He didn’t need details or an explanation. He hand delivered you to the lawyer his white clients use.
Her deftness made you uncomfortable. Like an old male gynecologist reciting, “Put your feet in the stirrups. Slide down. Further. Open your knees. Wider.”
The lawyer began, “What is your monthly net income? Your monthly expenses? The terms of your mortgage? What do you have in savings?”
You answered obediently, waiting to tell her the story of how you got here.
“Stocks? Money market accounts? Life insurance? Inheritances? Jewelry or collectibles? What do the past three years of tax returns look like?” You felt poor and helpless, like in the metal stirrups.
She calculated, “The court will order spousal support, you will be responsible for his legal fees, and child support. You started the business while married, so half of that is his, along with the house.”
You froze.
“My rate starts at $850 an hour. Even if I cut you a break, I’d need at least $25,000 to get started on the filing. You can’t afford to get divorced.” She said it without affect.
2. LT MARY
The court will ask why you never did anything and never went to anyone for help. If he hurts your child you will be deemed negligent. The lawyer said you had to go to the police. She said you will need a mountain of evidence and a trail of paperwork to get away. You went to the precinct with your ex-NYPD friend. The cops were confused, you didn’t have any bruises or broken bones. The domestic violence officer asked, “He didn’t hit you? I had an ex that used to beat my ass.”
You turned to go home, but your friend held on, “She needs to make a DV report for harassment.” You waited in the front while they deliberated. Shrinking down in your seat, hoping for invisibility. If anyone saw, you could tell them you were here on official block association business. But what if He walked by?
You wrote your statement out and the officer said, “He did all this in front of your kid? You might not want to write that down. It’s going to be hard for you if ACS gets involved.” You turned to your friend and she shrugged, said it was your choice. You thought, if you left your kid out, the court might not give you custody, right? You kept it in. You didn’t know why you were crying like this.
The DV officer saved her number in your phone under her first name so that she could call to check on you without alerting him. After you said no to the shelter, she frowned. “He sounds like a narcissist. They don’t change,” she said. And then she disappeared.
3. OVER REACTING
Maybe you're crazy. Maybe you made it all up. It's clear that you've blown things out of proportion. When you first called your best friend crying, she stumbled out of an Uber into the coffee shop you were hiding at, before you could even finish. Now, she barely responds to your messages. She questions why you are so desperate, in such a rush, to get away. She’s saying: it’s not that big of a deal.
When you quietly asked him to move out because you're tired of being scared every day, he was shocked. He was silent, staring at you as if you were experiencing a psychotic break. He reminded you he was a good person – a kind and peaceful person. He was screaming when he said it, but that was because he was exhausted with having to defend himself, having to remind you.
But the police filed the reports. They wouldn't have done that if there was no cause for concern, right? There were others who knew the details, who saw him in action, and hadn’t they continued to pester you about going to a shelter? When the child’s therapist reported his anger, distress, anxiety, and distrust of adults – wasn’t that real? Had that also come from your imagination?
It was interesting though, his response that night. As you sat outside, for safety, and asked him to leave, after he lectured you on how there was nothing wrong – he smiled just a little. He laughed softly when he said, “You have no proof.”
4. HURT PEOPLE
You’re allowed to acknowledge you did a great job. Yes, you were an idiot, but you were also a hero. … Did your heroism create confusion? He tormented you, spending every minute of the day agonizing about his sister's or his mother’s impending eviction, until you obeyed and wired the money. No one else knew it was a hostage situation.
When his mom, who always hated you, swallowed all her benzos with a handle of vodka you had to leave the first C-suite offsite at your new job to go be his service animal. This was her third attempt and she screamed at everyone that it was her right to die, while refusing therapy or rehab.
Would it occur to them that your only concern was your own household? Did they know you only took the helm to save yourself from the consequences of him not feeling supported? Did they think you saw yourself as one of them? A piece of their family?
Your marriage, which outlasted his first and produced a child, was their assurance that you were locked in. Trapped. For them, your resolve to finally forsake everything for you and your son came out of nowhere.
“Hurt people hurt people. That’s how pain patterns get passed on, generation after generation. Meet cruelty with kindness. Forgive and forget about finding fault,” his mother text you. Her sincere attempt to restore order. But they didn’t really know you.
5. CLOSE CALL
Your stomach was full of acid when you woke up. You sat up in bed feeling dizzy and sick, your heart raced. “What’s your plan for today?” he asked, and you wondered if he knew. You faked a yawn, “I don’t really have a plan, I’m just gonna make breakfast.” Before he moved on, you agreed to let him know when you made a schedule for your day.
You are in the kitchen when your son yells, “Mom! What happened to all my underwear?” You look at your cousin in a panic. Upstairs he and your son are tearing the room apart. Your cousin has grabbed her bags and run out the front door. As you ascend the stairs, you’re losing your vision and the feeling in your fingers. You explain the underwear must be in the dirty clothes. When he asks why the closet is empty you tell him he’s being ridiculous. You try to deescalate while texting the group chat. “He knows. We have to leave NOW.” It’s 10AM. You weren’t supposed to leave until 2.
Taking inventory, he deadpans, “I know what’s going on here.” You are certain you’re going to die. Then, for some reason, he walks out the front door.
You plead with your son to get dressed while you ask the chat for their ETA. They are getting the bags from the safe house into the car. Each minute you imagine him coming back with the police, or a weapon. You text the lawyer, “Change of plans, we have to leave right now.” She will monitor the court docket until you board.
When the Uber pulls up, your son sees his aunt and joyfully squeals, “What are you doing here!?”
“Get in,” she says to him.
As you run out, you see him watching you through the doorbell camera. You command the driver like you are in a movie, “Go!” you yell.
6. SISTER
“My brother is not an evil monster and you know this. He’s a good father. ______ needs him.”
His sister was different. In the family that evaded intervention and accountability, she had checked herself into rehab, while they made fun of her, and seemed serious about recovery.
They ridiculed her, calling her a Jesus Freak, but she never missed church. She had a prayer room and everyone in the family was on the wall. She left the church because of her queer children, but she did not abandon her faith.
She understood your position as the in-law, and you understood her desire for closeness in an unsupportive family. You took her side when the family continued their relationships with, and advocacy of, her ex-husband. She took up for you more than your husband did. The times you wanted him to stand up for you against his mother, or his uncle, she was there.
The day she called her brother abusive your exhale was long, and deep. “There is a such thing as emotional abuse, and there is a such thing as psychological abuse,” she said plainly, describing him as a father.