This is a true story. I wrote this years ago as part of my therapy to help get through my loss. I hope those who are in a relationship with a negative, controlling or violent person will find something in my story that will help. It took over five years for me to recover but I did find that positive relationship and my happily ever after.
Death of a Dream(A true story)
She stared out of the dining room window on a dismal February afternoon. It was unusually warm for mid winter; so much so that she hadn't even turned on the heat. She sat cross-legged on the radiator watching the dark clouds loom overhead.
This spot had become her favorite since moving into the apartment three months ago. She watched squirrels scamper along the antiquated fire escape and the boys playing basketball below on the sparse slab of concrete. But today the weather only added to her depression.
February in New York City was not a good time or even a good place to be. She had wished so many times that they could leave the city. But she knew that it wasn't the weather or even the city that caused her anxiety on this day. The shrill laughter of the children brought her back to the present.
"Mom! Jesse's touching my hair again!"
"No, I'm not!"
She smiled and quietly stood and stretched. She made her way to the tiny apartment kitchen for the nightly mundane chores of dishes and garbage. She remembered calling out to the children to get ready and to stop fighting but could not remember exactly what words were used.
A small boy with hair the color of the sun ran into the kitchen demanding his pants. She pointed to the laundry basket sitting on the sofa. He grinned and tiptoed to kiss his mother on the cheek. As if reading his mind, the girl ran into the room also demanding clothes. Both children looked remarkably alike. Most strangers thought that they were twins. Both had bright blonde hair with vibrant blue eyes and smiles that sparkled. She always had to explain that they were two years apart and yes they did look like twins, didn't they.
Soon their father would arrive to take her beautiful babies away for their birthday celebration. Both had been born in February and it was customary to celebrate their birthdays together. All their birthdays.
She hated the fact that the judge had allowed him to take them out once a week. She was always so afraid what he might do. He never wanted them in the first place and showed no interest or love towards the siblings in the past."He just does this to get back at me," she thought to herself.
It had not been a good marriage, in fact doomed was a better word. How many brides on their honeymoon find their new husband screwing the hotel maid? Looking back, she knew she should have left then. But she wouldn't have her little darlings now, would she?
Then came the booze and drugs..and the violence. She always believed that it was because she had excelled in her career while he faltered at his own. He would take all of her money to get drunk or stoned or whatever. Their friends tried to warn her. His friends tried to stop him but that would be like stopping a runaway train. He would take down anything that stood in his path. God help the sorry son of a bitch who stood in his path. She had so many times and she paid dearly. Too dearly..
As the children excitedly busied themselves preparing for their nocturnal adventure, she gathered up the bag of garbage from the kitchen. She announced that she was walking downstairs and not to open the door to anyone. The children hollered back, "Yes ma'am." The door bolt locked behind her. That was the last time she would see her beautiful babies again.
As she descended the back stairs to the trash bins, he was just walking through the foyer in the front of the building. He was drunk, as usual, and could barely climb the narrow stairs to the seventh story apartment. He had borrowed a friend's old Plymouth and promised only to drive it at night since it had no tags and the brakes were not so good. He would promise the moon and sun to get what he wanted.
He pounded on the door and yelled that he was there. The children, knowing who it was, let him inside. After all, he was not a stranger but their father. They probably told him that their mother was downstairs but he was in too much of a hurry to go. He promised the children that he would leave her a note saying that they had gone. The children probably smiled and obediently obeyed. That note seemed to have slipped his mind or had it?
She was just mounting the steps when she heard her little ones giggling. She ran frantically through the corridors to the front of the apartment and out the door. The doorman had attempted to stop him but to no avail. He was just too big of a man to stop from his next drink. She arrived just in time to see a drunk careening out of control through the narrow streets of New York.
Both she and the doorman ran inside to the desk phone to call the police. "There is a crazy man driving recklessly with two small children in the back seat. Yes they are my children. Yes he is their father..but he's drunk..Yes I understand..damn police." She quickly set down the phone and raced for the stairs. She knew where they were going and she knew she had to get there first. She called her sister and told her to hurry to the pier and she would be along directly. Her sister lived closer and could most likely find them before she could.
Her heart pounded so fast that it actually stung. She couldn't seem to catch her breath as she bounded down the stairs with her purse thrown over her shoulder. She had to get there before something happened. What could happen?
Miraculously a taxi was outside the apartment which, she thought, the kind doorman had most likely called. She ordered the Spanish driver to drive like hell. It was an emergency she yelled at him in Spanish. He seemed to understand and raced through the streets with the urgency that she needed.
When she had arrived at the pier, her heart was still beating hard as she saw her sister running towards her.
"I got here as fast as I could." Her sister grabbed her slender shoulders to steady her. What had happened? Had he wrecked the car? How bad were the children hurt?
She pulled away from her sister demanding to know. That's when she saw two NYPD officers walking quickly towards her. They must have known that she was the mother.
"I'm very sorry...." Their voices trailed off as pain overwhelmed her body and she fell to the concrete into unconsciousness.
The Florida Ocean breeze struck her face and forced her hair out of the barrette that was holding it back. Shoulder to shoulder with her sister, she held two small ceramic vials. The waves were becoming stronger and were rocking the small boat with more ferocity.
Her brother-in-law stood on her other side reading the news report to himself. He knew better than to read it out loud; it might cause even more pain for her. But she had already heard it all for she was there in the courtroom when they had sentenced her ex-husband.
He was drunk and stoned when the police pulled him from the water. Over 10 beers and maybe a couple of shots of Tequila. Drugs? Maybe a little cocaine and pot. Did he even have any knowledge of what he had done? Not at the time, your honor.
But she had known. Two Asian tourists were killed when he tried to swerve to miss their car. But he drove their car and his own off the pier and into the water below. Two minor children, who were seat belted in, drowned while their father swam to safety. The Asian coupled died on impact.
She had watched him be sentenced to life and she cried for him. The only words that he said to her was, "I told you that I didn't want any kids. Next time I guess you'll listen, won'cha bitch."
Her sister touched her gently on her shoulder. "It's time, kiddo." The sisters smiled a brave smile. She then opened the small vials and let the strong coastal winds take her babies away. She had always wanted to leave the city. At least, her babies had made her wish come true.