One Thing at a Time
"Where's my fucking beer? How hard is it to remember ONE goddamn thing? Huh?"
She was so afraid she couldn't breathe. Literally, as he had his hand around her throat and her body pinned against the wall, trembling and praying he'd let her go. The rage in eyes was the worst she'd ever seen, and although she'd been afraid of him before, she'd never feared for life until now.
When he relaxed his grip, she gasped for air. She tried to talk but couldn't.
"You're fucking worthless!" he hollered as he turned around and poured the last of the whiskey into a glass. "One damn thing and you can't do it. Piece of shit!"
"I'll go," she finally managed to say. "I'll go right now! Just give me a few minutes, okay?"
She slid by him and hoped he wouldn't lash out at her before she could get her purse. She was trying as hard as she could not to cry, because she knew he'd stop her and berate her some more...or worse.
When she got to the truck her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't get the key in the ignition. She took three long, slow breaths and tried again.
"Please start, please start," she said when she turned the key.
It sputtered and grumbled and came to life.
"Thank you, God!" she said as she put it in gear and headed for the FastMart.
Vikki Kennedy was 23 and had already been married for nearly five years. Her husband, Michael, was the only man she'd ever been with or even dated. Prior to him asking her to their senior prom she'd never been asked out by a boy. She once had a guy flirt with her at a friend's house, but she later found out he was only using her to talk to another girl.
"The prom?" her mother said when she told her. "Oh, honey! I'm SO happy for you!"
It was like a dream come true, and the night of the prom was the most magical night of her life. Michael was shy and polite, and when he kissed her on her doorstep, she was so in love it hurt!
When he asked her to marry him just six months later she screamed, "YES!"
Her parents were poor but put together a modest wedding at a local church and even sent them to Las Vegas for a weekend. The first year together was nice. Not wonderful, but it was free of abuse, and Vikki often returned to those memories when things got bad, and lately they had gone from bad to worse as Michael's drinking went out of control. Drinking made getting a job difficult, and not working made him drink. The vicious cycle was now a firestorm, and Vikki felt trapped and afraid. All...the...time.
She pulled into the parking lot and found a spot near the entrance. She got out and shut the door which creaked loudly then walked inside. She went straight to the beer cooler and grabbed two cases of Coors in bottles. She checked twice to make sure it wasn't Coors Lite. She'd made that mistake once six months ago, a mistake she would never make again. That was the first time he hit her. He'd gotten more verbally abusive the previous three years or so but had never laid a hand on her until then.
She got in line then started to panic. She set the beer down and opened her purse and grabbed her wallet. The $35 he'd given her for booze was gone, and when she couldn't find it anywhere she started shaking. Michael had taken it and, as usual, didn't tell her. After all, it was HIS money, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted with it.
"Miss? Are you going to move up? Miss? Excuse me," a male voice behind her was saying.
"Oh. Sorry. Go ahead."
The man moved past her leaving Vikki standing there shaking and crying.
"Are you okay?" she heard another voice asking.
"I'm sorry?" she said without turning around as she blinked hard to try and clear her eyes.
"Are you all right?" the man asked again.
"I...I had the cash, and now...now it's gone. He's gonna be so angry."
The man had seen her looking through her purse and also saw her start crying.
It didn't take a PhD in psychology to figure out what was going on after hearing her say 'he'll be angry'.
He picked up the beer and set it on the counter.
Vikki panicked even more.
"No! That's mine! Please!"
She saw the man hand the clerk a credit card and grab a power bar and some water as she began sobbing. He took the receipt, grabbed the beer and the two items on top then turned around.
"Where are you parked, young lady?"
"What?" Vikki sobbed.
"I'll carry these out for you. Come on. It's okay."
She was so confused she had to ask him what he was doing.
"I'm hoping to prevent anything else from happening to you," he said quietly with a slight smile.
He was looking at her neck and told her she should tell someone or see a doctor.
"I...I can't. You don't understand."
"Okay," was all he said as she pointed to the beat up truck she drove.
He set it on the passenger side then asked her if she'd had anything to eat.
"I'm fine," Vikki told him, unable to even look at him.
He handed the power bar and the water to her. She initially didn't move, but when he urged her to take it she did.
"You might want to finish these before you get home," he said in a kind, caring voice.
"Thank you," she replied, as the sobbing stopped and she removed the lid from the bottle before tearing open the wrapper and taking a large bite.
"Miss? You really don't have to live like this," he said as nicely as he could.
"I'm sorry. I have to go."
"All right. Um...take care," he said with a sense of resignation as he shut the door.
He had no idea what else to say because he knew she wasn't going to 'have a nice day'. He thought about following her and calling the police, but he had a meeting to be at in five minutes and couldn't be late.
He watched her back out and said a silent prayer for her even though he wasn't much of a believer, but at this point it felt like the only one who could help was The Man Upstairs--if he was listening.
When she pulled out from the minimart he got in his own car and left, too, and tried not to think about her or what she would face when she got home.
A month passed since he saw her, and he had no expectation of ever seeing her again as men like the one she lived with kept their 'property' on a tight leash and used fear and intimidation to keep them in line.
He needed gas and pulled into the minimart/gas station where he'd helped her out, and was shocked when he saw her pull up behind him just as he stuck the nozzle in the tank. She was driving the same beat up truck and was wearing the same dirty, tattered clothes as before. Her hair was a stringy, greasy mess, and she didn't even notice him when she got out.
"Miss? Excuse me!" he called out.
She appeared to be counting some cash, and he rightly assumed she'd been sent to fill up the tank. Missing even a dollar would set him off, and she was rechecking the amount he gave her.
He walked up to her, and when he quietly said, "Hey there, Miss," she flinched so hard she dropped the cash.
She started screaming and chasing the money that a light breeze was blowing around. He helped gather it up and handed her the $10 bill he'd stepped on and grabbed.
