2. The Bank

Bruce came home from night patrol around seven. I made him bacon and eggs and brewed fresh coffee.


"We caught us two perps trying to rob a jewelry store," he smiled. "Someone in the neighborhood called it in, old geezer named Stanley. Walking his dog, minding his own business when he saw them. Dudes had broken the window and were loading their gym bags, thinking they had enough time after the alarm went off. Caught them red handed."


He was slurring his words. I could smell the alcohol on his breath from across the table and knew he and his partner Pete had been slipping whiskey in their patrol car after their shift.


"What ya do? Slip in the shower?" He smiled, looking at my bruises. "Stupid cow! Didn't I tell you to be more careful?"


He hoisted himself up from the table, steadying himself with his hand.


"I'm going to bed now," he said. "Wake me at four." He stumbled down the hallway, unbuttoning his shirt, muttering to himself as he went.


I listened to the water running from the shower, the opening and closing of the glass door. Then all was quiet. Bruce had slipped into bed.


I sat alone in the kitchen, my heart pounding in my throat. I watched the hands of the clock slide across its face. Today was the day of my escape.


The mortgage consultant was a friendly woman in her forties. She sat comfortably behind her desk, surrounded by pictures of her children. The name plate on her door said Mary Dalton.


"This is Emma, my oldest," she smiled, showing me the photo. "She's in college, working on a degree in accounting. She's the brains in the family. And this is Frankie, she's a senior in high school. She's interested in art.


It's interesting, don't you think, such different inclinations? It's a left brain right brain thing. I'm sure you know about that. Do you have children, Jessie?"


"No," I said. "I lost a baby."


"What a terrible tragedy that must have been," Mary said. "One only a mother could understand. How far along were you?"


"A month, "I said. I left out the part where Bruce slammed me over a chair and my belly carried the purple bruises for weeks.


"Now to the business at hand," Mary smiled. "You want to buy a house, right?"


"Right," I said.


"What's the asking price?"


"$120, 000," I said.


"That's a great price!" She said.


"It's a small cottage," I said. "It needs some work."


"A fixer upper," Mary smiled. "Will you be doing the work yourself?"


"Yes," I said. "I think it will be good therapy."


"What is your profession, Jessie?" She asked.


"I'm a legal secretary," I said. "I've worked for the same law firm for ten years."


"And your annual salary?"


"35, 000," I said.


"And do you have the paperwork to substantiate this?"


"Yes," I said and handed her the manila folder.


Mary opened it and looked over the documents. Then she nodded and swung her desk chair toward her computer.


"Now I'm just going to crunch the numbers," she said. "If you don't mind me asking, why the glasses?"


"I have a migraine," I said. "I get them most mornings."


"Sorry to hear that," Mary said with concern in her voice. She typed on her keyboard, looked closely at the screen, typed again and made a print out. She pushed it over to me across the desk.


"This is what we can do for you," she said, pointing to the numbers with her pen. "On a 30 year mortgage at 4%, with a fixed rate, your monthly payment would be $700. Based on the information you gave me on your monthly expenses, you can easily afford that amount, correct?"


"Yes," I said, "it won't be difficult."


"Then shall we proceed?" She smiled.


"Yes, I said. How soon will I have the money?"


"We will write you a check," she said. "You can come pick it up by the end of the day."


"So, no glasses today?" Marjorie said. We were sitting in her living room. The fire place was glowing with an orange fire.


"No," I said.


"Good," she smiled. "We sisters have no secrets from each other. It's how it should be. Did you bring your check?"


"Yes," I said, and fumbled through my purse.


"No need to be nervous," Marjorie laughed. "Is this your first time buying a house?"


"No," I said, "but Bruce took care of it. Now I am doing it in my own."


"Kinda scary, isn't it?" She smiled. "But there's nothing to it, honey. Just give me that check, sign the contract, and the house is yours."


"When can I move in?" I said, signing my name on the dotted line.


"I'm moving out this weekend, honey," she said. "Any time after that is fine. I don't mind telling you that leaving this house is hard. We have a history, you know. There are things that happened inside these walls that no one knows about. You'll discover that for yourself soon enough."


She gave me a set of keys and I put them in my purse.


"I'll leave the other set on the kitchen counter before I leave," she said. "I'll walk trough the rooms one final time to say goodbye. Saying it isn't easy. How long has he been doing it, honey?"


"It started on our honeymoon," I said. "Bruce liked rough sex. I mean bruises on the wrists and face rough."


"Geez!" She said. "And you did not leave him then?"


"Leaving isn't easy," I said. "I thought he would change."


"Right!" She said. The same mistake all of us sisters make. He don't change, honey, he only gets worse. First he gives you bruises you can hide. Then he doesn't care anymore. Then you're his very own personal punching bag."


"He dotes on his mother," I said. "He does everything for her."


"The Good Son," she smiled. "Look at how I treat my mother! Don't you think I treat my wife the same? Men who dote on their mothers have momma issues, darling. Take it from me."


"I lost a baby," I said. "He slammed me so hard I fell face forward on the back of a chair. Then he kicked me in the belly with his boots on. I can't have another child. I told him but he never talked about that."


"Sure," she said. "Men like that do those things that never happen, but they do and they happen to us. I think you'll find peace here, Jessie. I really do."


That night I began packing my things. I boxed them up and I hid the boxes in the garage under the tarp. It was strange to watch my life go into those boxes as if it was doing it on it's own with me watching. It wanted to go away and it was pulling me with it.

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