I See The Moon

When I came out of the bathroom on the beautiful star lit night the curtains were drawn tight against the double glass door leading out to a small balcony. Luke was waiting for me writing notes for an upcoming sermon.

I got into bed next to my sexy husband and Luke reached over to turn off the table lamp throwing the room into almost complete darkness. How I wished we could make love in view of the stars.

I rolled on my side to face him, awaiting a kiss on my lips.

Luke roughly... perhaps roughly is not the right word. Mechanically would be better. It was all the tenderness of a handsome wind up automaton man going through the motions.

Luke pushed me onto my back and then inserted his spit covered fingers into my womanhood forcefully tearing my hymen and causing me to cry out in pain.

We had intercourse in the missionary position that lasted a good sixty seconds. Luke was lying on top of me with his full weight pushing down almost smothering me.

He was grunting and panting with a terrible grimace on his face as if he was in pain and the tender act of making love disgusted him.

In retrospect the very act of intercourse disgusted Luke; to him sex was necessary for procreation and nothing else.

When he was done, Luke kissed my cheek. He got out of bed and took a shower. When he returned Luke kissed my cheek again as he got into bed and rolled on his side facing away from me. He wished me a good night falling almost immediately asleep.

This was our love making while on our honeymoon; the purpose to make babies and this remained our love making for the next three years.

We were driving home on the last night of our honeymoon getaway such as it was; Luke decided to stop around midnight at a gas station- convenience store to get us a cup of coffee and use the restroom. I was out the ladies room first and sat in the car to wait for him.

While I was waiting, a rust bucket of a pickup pulled into the parking space beside me. A slovenly and disgusting middle aged man with a beer gut dressed in filthy black jeans and an equally filthy black sweat stained Heavy Metal Tee shirt got out with a can of beer in his hand and slammed the door several times to get it to close.

He spat a stream of chewing tobacco juice onto the ground and then stretched, scratching his crotch before drinking the last of his beer, crushing the can in his hand and throwing it on the ground.

He finished stretching by farting and belching while stuffing more chewing tobacco into his mouth. His last charming action was to wipe the dried snot off of his face with the back of his grimy hand and then wiped his hand on his filthy crusty jeans.

I was frightened and disgusted by him. I looked straight ahead, pretending that he wasn't there. I was praying Luke would return soon so we could leave. As I said, Luke is a big, tall strapping man.

Looking in my direction the filthy cretin pushed his lank thin greasy hair over his pate trying to cover his bald spot.

He smiled at me showing his few remaining tobacco stained yellow-brown rotting teeth. He swaggered over and stuck his head in the driver's side window while putting his hand on the roof of our station wagon.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing he-ah all alone this time ah night?"

I could smell his alcohol laden fetid breath and his reeking unwashed body. The stench of the alcohol was perfume in comparison to the rest of his vile unwashed smells. He made me cringe with disgust and I wanted to retch.

"Do you yah all want some company?"

I was too frightened to answer. I stared straight ahead hoping he would go away. I wanted my husband.

He turned his head and spit a stream of tobacco juice to the ground, smiling and no doubt imagining himself to be suave and charming as he leaned farther in to reach with his arm. This vile wretch of a man smiled broadly displaying his discolored gums, "You sure have pretty hair."

He stroked my long ponytail with his filthy hand making my skin crawl.

"What do you say about going to the roadhouse for a few beers to get better acquainted, you pretty little thing?"

As he said this I could see Luke coming out of the store carrying two paper cups of coffee.

"What is going on here? Stop bothering my wife!"

The filthy cretin pulled his greasy head out the car window and sized Luke up. He then spit another stream of tobacco juice to the ground.

"Your wife you say preacher boy. I thought she might like to be with a real man for a change. What do you say about letting me borrow her for an hour or so?"

This time he spit on Luke's pants legs staining the white linen fabric with tobacco juice mixed with sputum, smiling around his few remaining front teeth.

Still hanging on to the coffee cups Luke said. "You had better leave us alone or else."

"Or else what, you'll pray for me?" The redneck said sneering as he knocked the coffee cups from Luke's hands.

"I'll tell you what," he took a crumpled dollar bill from his jeans pocket and stuffed it into Luke's clean white shirt pocket.

"I'll even pay for it and let you watch while I fuck her; we'll have us a little orgy, faggot." Luke just stood there with his head down as if he was praying.

A county sheriff's car pulled into the parking lot driving slow as if looking for somebody. Seeing it, Luke lifted his head and stood up to his full height of six-four and said confidently.

"If I were not a man of God, I would beat you to an inch of your miserable life. The Lord has answered my prayers by giving me strength to turn the other cheek."

Luke pushed past him and got into the car.

As we were driving away, Luke turned to me and said, "He should thank the Lord that the law showed up when it did.

My prayers were answered Mary Beth. Otherwise there is no telling of what I would have done to him in my righteous anger."

Like the blind fool that I was then I wanted to believe Luke. I slid closer to him and put my head on his shoulder. Luke puffed out his chest, sitting up straighter in the seat. He put his arm around me and I was content our prayers were answered; proud that my husband had the courage of his convictions.

After all the Bible says, "But I say unto you, that ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also............"

I was up early the following Sunday to make Luke a breakfast of pork sausage, fried eggs with grits; my famous from scratch buttermilk biscuits with my equally famous sausage gravy.

Luke was looking at me with a thoughtful look on his face as we sat there eating.

"What's the matter, honey," I asked, "what are you thinking about?"

"We need to do something about your hair, Mary Beth"

I had fixed my hair in a pretty bun as my mother's suggested as is befitting a minister's wife.

"You don't like my hair? What is wrong with it, honey, I put it up for you?"

"Nothing is wrong with your hair Mary Beth, however you are a married woman now as well as a Minister's wife.

It should be shorter and more conservative. Perhaps we should tone down your blond hair to a nice respectable brown.

You need something that is easier to care for on our busy schedule especially when our babies arrive.

Do you remember how that sinner was tempted in the parking lot touching your hair like he did?

I know it was not your fault but only God knows what would have happened if I didn't show up when I did.

You are a pretty woman and pretty women turn men's heads by their appearance alone tempting them to lust. It's best to remove the temptation. I have made an appointment for you with one of our parishioners."

I touched my beautiful hair lamenting any change but wanting to please him. I foolishly agreed to keep the appointment on Wednesday. The Bible says a wife shall obey her husband in all things and I still loved, trusted and believed in Luke those early years.

I arrived at the salon thirty minutes early to browse through the pictures in the hairstyle books. I selected a simple blunt cut chin length bob cut with long eye framing bangs choosing a hair model with rich dark brown hair that complemented the cut.

Mrs. Sullivan the salon owner and my stylist escorted me to her cutting station. I sat in the chair and she placed the cape around my neck while I opened the book and pointed to the picture.

"I really like this one; I think it will look nice on me."

Taking the book from me, she said, "You are so right dear, that style would suit you just fine."

Mrs. Sullivan took the hairpins out of my bun letting my hair drop down into a cute sassy ponytail and I sighed because I loved wearing my hair this way the best.

"You have beautiful hair Mary Beth. Would you like to donate your ponytail to the Locks of Love?"

I nodded daydreaming about how I would curl my hair for Luke when I got home. I was thinking being a brunette would not be so bad after all. Who knew, perhaps our love making might improve.

I assumed that Mrs. Sullivan was going to reposition my ponytail lower at the nape of my neck but instead she took the scissors and started chewing through my medium high ponytail just above the elastic hair tie.

"Mrs. Sullivan, what are you doing?" I cried out in alarm, "I thought we agreed on the bob; now the back will be too short."

She stopped with a puzzled look on her face but then smiled, replying, "No dear, you misunderstood me; I agreed with you that the style would look nice on you, not that I was going to cut it that way.

Your husband picked out a nice short haircut on Tuesday for you, I thought you knew that."

After my beautiful golden blonde ponytail was severed from my head she held it up for me to see and then she placed it on the shelf saying she would braid it later before mailing it out.

Taking up the scissors, Mrs. Sullivan cut my hair in a rough bowl shape just touching the top of my ears before I started tearing up.

She stopped and brought me a box of tissues while patting my hand and assuring me that I would look cute in my new style. Mrs. Sullivan then turned the chair around facing me away from the mirror so I couldn't see what she was doing.

Picking up the electric clippers and snapping a 3/4"(13mm) guard in place, she ran the clippers right up to the bowl, lifting the bowl with a comb

She changed the clipper guards several times: 5/8"(16mm), 1/2"(13mm), 1/4"(6mm) and finally 1/8"(3mm.), running the clippers up the back and sides, tapering and blending, 1/8"(3mm) at my hairline, 3/4"(13mm) at the bottom of the bowl.

We then went to the sink and she rinsed my remaining hair. We returned to the cutting station where she applied the color and told me I would have to wait twenty minutes for the color to set.

I asked to be excused to go to the ladies room and I locked myself in. I put the cover on the toilet down and sat crying my eyes out. I hated Mrs. Sullivan. I hated my husband, and most of all I hated that filthy redneck for touching my hair.

I prayed, calming myself and asked God's forgiveness for hating them. I lost all track of time.

Mrs. Sullivan knocked on the door startling me. She reminded me that my time was up so I washed my face and left the restroom.

After the excess color was rinsed from my hair it was back to the chair again facing away from the mirror.

Mrs. Sullivan picked up the scissors and comb and started cutting the bowl, further shaping and blending it into the sides and back.

She combed my hair forward and cut short blunt bangs to the middle of my forehead, not the long eye framing sexy ones that I wanted.

I was thinking to myself that I have not had bangs this short since I was four years old. I remembered the picture my parents took of me after I cut my hair in the front; before my mother caught me, stopping me from doing even more damage.

I always take good care of my hair; getting the tips trimmed regularly and applying hot oil treatments bi-monthly to keep it soft and shiny.

When I was first married my tresses were blunt cut all one length with no layers. I wore it center parted or parted off to the right depending on my mood.

When I was a little girl my mother used to brush my hair and braid it for me at bedtime. It was our special time together and we would talk and tell each other secrets.

Finally we would pray together. We had a special prayer...a simple prayer, that we both said together when it was dark and the moon was out. It was the first prayer that I ever learned and I pray as then on moon lit nights.

"I see the moon and the moon sees me. God bless the moon and God bless me."

My mom brushed my hair the night before my wedding. She braided it for me and that night; there was a full moon. We said our special prayer together for the last time.

I was numb as she continued with my haircut; adding layers to the top and then thinning the top with thinning shears. My hair was barely one inch long on the top now. She finished by rubbing in some hair cream and parting it on the right.

Mrs. Sullivan finally turned the chair around to face the mirror. I did not recognize the person staring back at me.

Mrs. Sullivan was absolutely beaming. May God forgive my bad thoughts about her. She really is a dear sweet Lady.

"You look so cute with short hair Mary Beth. Just shampoo and lightly blow dry for five minutes at the most. Finish the look with a little hair cream to condition and to add shine before you part it and you're done."

I was no longer a beautiful sexy blond woman with my hair pinned up in an elegant bun. At best I was a cute brown haired girl with a short boy's haircut. If I were not wearing a dress and the minimal makeup Luke allowed me I was sure to be mistaken for a teenage boy.

"No charge dear, the Reverend paid in advance and left me a nice tip."

Leaving the beauty shop I drove to my parent's house to get my telescope and my astronomy books. While I was driving there it occurred to me that my hair was much shorter than my husband's.

When I was eight years old my father bought me an expensive telescope. Although used the telescope came with a heavy gauge aluminum carrying case complete with compartments for all the various eyepieces needed for astronomy, photography or viewing wildlife.

On clear nights Dad and I would go to Johnson's Hill to observe the heavens. I used to take that telescope with me everywhere. Dad referred to it as my security blanket.

My parents comforted me as best they could. I knew that my father was very angry. Nonetheless Dad explained that it was not proper for Mom and him to interfere between a husband and wife. "Our door is always open for you to talk," Dad assured me as we hugged.

I always feel very safe and secure around my Dad. He was a Marine with the rank of Gunny Sergeant before retiring as an NCIS field agent. Dad is fearless and will not back down to anybody.

Dad is a kind and gentle man with mom and me. I can't remember him ever raising his voice to us.

When I was thirteen we all went Christmas shopping in Biloxi which we jokingly refer to as the big city. After we pulled into our parking space I opened my car door and accidentally bumped the car next to us chipping the paint.

The occupant, a young man waiting for his girlfriend, jumped out his car and started screaming profanities at me, taking the Lord's name in vain in his blasphemous tirade. Dad stepped in front me and said to him.

"Son, there can't be more than four hundred dollars damage to your car if that. I can give the cash or we can exchange insurance information and settle that way. First you will apologize to my wife and daughter."

"Fuck you asshole and them too!"

I didn't know Dad could move so fast. He hit the blasphemer twice, two hard jabs to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and doubling him over.

Dad grabbed his wrist and pinned the man's arm behind his back. He gradually applied pressure until that dirty-mouthed young man apologized to Dad's satisfaction; that or suffer a broken arm.

As I said earlier, I tried everything to become pregnant. Finally after three years of trying, and with the help of Dr. McCarthy my fertility specialist; we were finally blessed. My tests showed that I was pregnant with twins.

One afternoon during my third trimester Mom and I were decorating a spare room turning it into a nursery. I left Mom stripping wallpaper while I went to the paint store to pick up and pay for the wallpaper I ordered.

On the way home I was rear-ended at a stoplight by a delivery truck and my compact car was demolished.

There were complications and I had a miscarriage which was followed by infections and more surgery. As a result I would never be able to conceive and have children; I was devastated.

When I returned from the hospital more than anything I needed the support and love from my husband. I so desperately wanted him to make love to me and to make me feel desirable as a woman again.

Luke lost all interest in sex with me for any reason. Sure, Luke went through all the motions of pretending to be a supportive husband; our relationship was mostly platonic.

He put up a good front for my parents and his congregation. Eventually Luke was spending less and less time at home. He was mostly away attending meetings or traveling on church business.

When Luke was home he spent a great deal of time locked in his office, the room once put aside as the nursery.

Under Luke's guidance our little church grew over the years. We added a full time daycare center open to the public and a huge recreation hall. Luke had his own half-hour radio show on our small local AM radio station.

I was a dutiful wife and I attended all of the Church functions or fundraisers. I was the charming hostess and gracious public wife; we slept in separate bedrooms.... the hell with him. I went back to my natural color and grew my hair out.

I received a substantial insurance settlement six years after my accident. I opened a bank account under my maiden name using a portion of the money to pay for my college. I made sure Luke did not have access to this account.

I remained married to Luke for fifteen, years attending collage part time and then graduating with a four year science degree.

Luke considered the time I spent in college a waste of time and money. He said I did it to annoy him.

I celebrated my graduation by getting a dog to keep me company; to love and return my love.

Brandy was a little female beagle puppy colored white, brown and black. She had four white feet. She was a smart, sweet little thing; I had her house-broken in two weeks.

Brandy followed me everywhere and loved riding in the car with her head out the window. She slept in my bed with me; Luke ignored her. Brandy soon learned to stay out of his way and his feet.

As all puppies are chewers and Brandy was no exception. When she was eleven months old she chewed on one of Luke's old dress belts that he left on the bathroom floor.

I was grocery shopping at the time and I may have not closed my bedroom door properly. When Luke came home and found his belt he flew into a rage and kicked Brandy in the stomach.

I found her in my bedroom whimpering in pain. I made Luke drive me to the vets to no avail. Brandy died on my lap on the way. I left Luke a week later filing for divorce and I never looked back.

After living with my parents for a month, I found a full time job in a Greek Restaurant as a hostess/waitress twenty miles from my hometown. I rented a two bedroom downstairs apartment in walking distance of work.

The tips were good and I received a small monthly dividend from investments of the insurance settlement.

I sent my resume to the Planetarium in Jackson hoping eventually to get a job there when there was an opening.