Tree

Chapter 1

I held a bag of frozen mixed vegetables up my lip. It was split open and still bleeding mildly. I sighed and moved my finger along the wood grain of the dining table as I shifted in my chair. I don't understand what had set him off.

Dinner was laid out promptly at 5:30. I put Jack's koozie on his beer to keep it cold. I looked over where I had set it, and all that was left was a frothy puddle where it had tipped over and spilled. I looked down at my lap where my jeans were now covered in bar-b-que sauce from the chicken he had thrown at me, plate and all.

The floor was smeared with the leftovers of dinner. Thankfully, it was tile rather than carpeting.

I set the frozen bag down and gingerly felt my bottom lip. It was swollen, but it wasn't as bad as last time.

When Jack got home, I greeted him at the door with his beer and a kiss. He was unpredictable lately, but tonight he was especially sour. He grabbed the beer and gruffly asked, "Is dinner ready?"

"Yes. I just set it out." I trailed after him. He sat at his spot and set the beer down before heaping spoonfuls of mashed potatoes and green beans onto his place. Then he loaded up with bar-b-que chicken.

He ignored me as he shoveled dinner into his mouth. His fingernails had dirt encrusted under them and stuck around his cuticles. It made my lip curl, but I kept as straight a face I could and my eyes downcast. I stood off to the side waiting.

"Well, have a seat then." He motioned with a chicken leg in his grubby hand.

"Thank you," I whispered as I sat across from him. I no sooner had laid the napkin across my lap when he came barreling over the table and smacked me with his hand that was covered in bar-b-que sauce. I was nearly thrown from my chair. My teeth cut into my lip and I felt the blood drip off my chin onto my shirt.

"You goddamn bitch!" Jack roared as he tossed his plate.

His eyes were bugging out of his head and he was still chewing his meat.

He was still standing and was eating his chicken like he didn't have an outburst that ended up with food on the floor, his beer tipped over, and my lip split.

"Did you steal from me?" He demanded.

"No!" I vehemently denied the accusation.

Jack stared at me. "Where did you get that shirt?"

I swallowed. "I've had this shirt since we met, but I just-"

He cut me off again. "You just what?" He sneered at me showing some bits of chicken stuck in his teeth. "What?" His voice grew louder and then he began laughing. His laugh was that of an unhinged man.

He walked to the cupboard and drew out another plate. He filled it up then stopped to grab another beer from the fridge. As he walked into the living room he said over his shoulder, "Clean this mess up."

"Yes, sir." I sat back down in my chair with dinner untouched. My bones already stuck out of my skin like a skeletal frame. Sometimes I wished that I would become so lightweight that the wind would carry me away from this life like a dandelion seed.

I sighed as I stood and grabbed a bag out of the freezer for my lip. Monica, I thought to myself, what happened to you?

I heard the television turn on and the voice of the local news anchor filled the house. I frowned and sighed. I got up and put the frozen bag back into the freezer, and began cleaning up the dining room.

He never used to beat me. That started last year when he made friends with a new hire at work. He worked at a cement plant and this guy was bad news. He had a mouth full of methamphetamine rotted teeth and eyes that would leer at anything with tits. His name was Roger, but he insisted everyone call him "Dynamite". I think mostly for the reason he had survived two houses blowing up from mixing his drugs, or so he claimed.

Jack was never affectionate much, but he treated me well since we met. Then one day he came home and backhanded me so hard I flew into a wall and dropped to the ground. I wasn't expecting that to happen and had no time to catch myself. My head hurt from where it slammed into the wall and my pride stung worse than my face.

He never stopped to see if I was okay. He simply walked over my splayed legs, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and sat in the dining room. "Where is dinner?" he asked.

That was when it all started. Every day he would come home and demand things of me whether it was dinner at a particular time or sex soon as the front door closed.

It was like a light switch that came on and off in Jack. I suspected Roger had gotten him hooked on meth, but I never noticed the signs of drug use.

My friend Rochelle wondered constantly why I never left him. I tried to explain once to her, but she couldn't understand my dependence. I couldn't understand it myself, so how could I justify it to anyone? I lied to myself saying that I could rescue Jack. I thought he would see how important I was and choose me over whatever he was on.

Mom left my dad and my sisters when I was seven. I barely remember the sound of her voice because I was so young. As the baby of the family, I had it easy. Everyone else struggled after she left because it was so sudden. They had more memories of her. Dad explained that some people get so overwhelmed that they can't handle the pressure and their mind cracks. I understand it now as an adult. But I can't compare my situation to my mother's because it's completely different. Jack has been there for me since the beginning and he's my first in every way.

I was 17 when my dad suffered a massive heart attack at work. He was driving his bucket truck to his next project as a lineman when he lost control and his foot fell hard on the accelerator. He flew off the two lane highway towards oncoming traffic where his vehicle was struck by a fully loaded semi-truck. They say if he didn't die from the heart attack when it happened then the accident killed him instantly. Still, it was a tough time.

Jack was working as a bartender at the corner pub from our house. My older sister Melissa took the call and collapsed on the floor. She kept muttering, "No, no, no, no, nonononono.....". I picked up the phone and the voice at the other end identified themselves as Sherri from the office where Dad worked. I walked down to that pub and sat down at the bar as soon as I hung up. I ordered my dad's favorite drink, a scotch on the rocks. Jack knew I was too young to drink, but he saw the look on my face and served me a double. I sat there for hours silently downing scotch and waters until I was so numb I couldn't stand on my own. Jack helped me home.

By that time, Melissa and my other two sisters, Leigh and Theresa, had been discussing funeral arrangements. I really can't understand how I was able to not pass out from the amount of scotch I drank, but Jack knew better and had been serving more water than scotch as the night wore on. Bully for him.

After the funeral, my sisters and I decided to sell the house. Leigh and Theresa had already moved out before Dad passed, so Melissa and I were left to find living arrangements. She was entering college, so she would have a dorm room. I, on the other hand, still had a couple months to go of high school. My only surviving grandfather decided to let me move in with him. He had lived alone since my grandmother passed away some time ago. He was my mom's dad and always stayed constant in our lives after she left.

Jack continued to see me. He was 21, so only four years older than me, and was always respectful which is why my grandpa let him date me.

"If you ever disrespect my granddaughter," my grandfather once told Jack, "I will gut you and weigh you down with stones before dumping you in the river."

Seeing how Grandpa was an extraordinary fisherman and huntsman, as well as a serial killer aficionado, Jack believed him and always treated me well. I was never pressured into anything.

After high school graduation, I was sitting in Jack's old beat up Ford F150 at the local park. I was playing with some foam sticking out of the seat when I turned to him and asked, "If we were to have sex, how would you start?"

He laughed and said, "Monica, I'd start by kissing you then grabbing your tit."

I turned my body towards his. Having a bench seat in the truck made it easy.

"Joseph Allan Wellman, would you please do me the honor?"

His jaw hit the ground. He had his left wrist resting on the top of the steering wheel and his right was holding my left hand.

I took his hand and placed it on my breast. I felt his hand squeeze it. Then he leaned over and began kissing me. That's when I gave my virginity to Jack.

A few days later I moved out of my grandpa's house and into Jack's small apartment in a house on the west side. I got a job at the hardware store and things were pretty decent. Until, that is, Jack was caught stealing from the till. He was fired immediately. On the way home, he stopped for a bottle of Wild Turkey. It was almost halfway gone by the time he pulled into the driveway.

I came home after closing the store and stopped by the deli for a rotisserie chicken and all the fixings. I was surprised to see Jack's truck in the driveway since it was only seven at night and he usually closed the bar.

He was sitting on the back porch smoking his Marlboro menthols and drinking straight from the bottle.

I set my deli bags down and he blurted out, "I'm so sorry, Monica." Given his speech was slurred it came out "shorree". I sat beside him on the steps and took a smoke out of the box. I lit up and after I exhaled I asked, "What happened, baby?"

"I got fired."

Simple and to the point. I asked what happened and he told me the truth.

"I got caught stealing from the till." He took a long drag before stubbing out his cigarette. I noticed there was at least a pack of cigarette butts on the ground. "I got into a bind and needed the cash. I was going to pay it back." He looked at me with his dark brown eyes. Puppy dog eyes that tilted down a bit at the outer corners giving him a permanent sad look. "I swear."

"Okay," I said. I left it at that. "I've got dinner for us from Pat's Deli if you're hungry. Might help to soak up some of your booze." I smiled and reached for his bottle. I took a healthy swig then sputtered.

He laughed drunkenly and said, "You haven't been able to hold your booze since that first day I met you."

"Let's go inside and enjoy this while it's hot." I stood up and carried the bags and Wild Turkey in with me. Jack followed. I never did ask what bind he was in and he never elaborated.

The next day I sat down with him and made a game plan. I said, "We both need to work. I don't have enough experience yet, but I'm trying. I can help you the best I can, but I can't make enough to pay rent and everything else."

He was nodding the whole time looking down at the table. A cigarette sat unlit in the ashtray in front of him. "You're right. I'll head down to Dad's work and see if I can get a job there."

Jack's father worked at a cement factory. He had been there going on 20 years, so surely Jack stood a good chance of getting in. The only thing is Jack hated what his dad did. He never wanted to work there. He enjoyed the freedom of bartending and had aspirations of going on one of those bartending television shows where they make fancy drinks doing all sorts of tricks like stacking glasses a certain way to mix shots.

"I know you don't want to work there. Just try and I'll start looking for something better too." I picked up his unlit cigarette and lit it. After I took a drag, I handed it to him. He smiled and kissed me on the cheek as he took it.

"I love you, girl." He inhaled and then blew out smoke rings. I loved it when he did that. I imagined the two of us together forever, defying all odds. I never imagined the day when he'd come home and strike me.

Chapter 2

Love is a funny thing. Sometimes it shows itself in all sorts of different ways. I knew some people were in love because of physical pain inflicted on them purposely. I was never one of those people. It surprised me because after Jack first hit me, he wanted sex. It was not gentle at all. He choked me so hard my vision faded and tears came to my eyes. I ended up with bruises along my rib cage from his hard grip and he had sex with me while I was dry, so I hurt between my legs too. After he finished, he got off me with a grunt and never said a word. He used the bathroom then put his boxers on before walking into the living room where his box of smokes were.

After he began working at the cement factory, we decided to move into a house. We were able to get it for nearly the same price as the apartment. The best thing is that it was closer to my grandpa, so I could help keep an eye on him as he got older.

I exhaled my cigarette smoke as I thought about my grandpa. I was sitting at a picnic table outside behind the liquor store where I had gotten a full time job. It paid more than my hardware job, but I think because it was in the worst part of town the owner was giving us hazard pay. I laughed to myself then heard, "Hey girl," from behind me.

I stubbed out my cigarette and stood up. "Hi, Rochelle. How's it goin'?"

I turned and watched Rochelle shift her baby girl to her other hip. "Oh, it's goin', girl. Little Mel here just started teething."

"Aw, that's great. Soon she can earn some money when they fall out." We laughed and I stuck my finger in Little Mel's tiny hand. Mel was short for Melissa, but Rochelle always called her "Little Mel" since before she was born. Rochelle was a beautiful woman with natural blonde hair, the nice honey color kind, and light brown eyes. Little Mel was the spitting image of her mother. Fortunately, she didn't look at all like her father. Henry was a nice enough man and took care of his family, but he got the short end of the ugly stick, as they say.

"So, why are you here?" I asked Rochelle as she sat on the picnic table and pulled out a sucker for Little Mel. "It's your day off. I'd avoid this neighborhood if I could."

Rochelle laughed. "I know that's right. Nah, Jer asked me to stop by for something and this place is halfway for us." She took the wrapper off the little dum dum sucker and handed it to Little Mel.

Jeremy, or Jer as his friends called him, was Rochelle's dealer. She only ever smoked pot and had known Jer since junior high.

"So, the 'something' must be a new blend?" I asked with an eyebrow cocked.

"I think so. I love my Bruce Banner, but if Jer's been able to make something just as smooth, but more mellow, well, damn, I'm in." Rochelle took the cigarette I offered her and lit it. Little Mel continued sucking on her blue raspberry dum dum and her lips were beginning to turn blue from the food dye.

I smiled at Little Mel then said, "Well, Ro, I've gotta get back to work. Listen, if Jer has some good stuff, let him know I'm interested."

"Absolutely, doll. Thanks for the smoke." Rochelle lifted her hair off her shoulder and flung it behind her. I shook Little Mel's hand then smoothed her hair before I turned to the building.

I walked slowly inside allowing my eyes to adjust to the dimness of the storeroom from the bright late afternoon sun. The back of the store always reminded me of a horror movie as it was a maze created out of stacked cases of booze. I trailed my fingers along one case of Tito's. I wanted to pick up a bottle to try since I've heard it was really good vodka. However, I couldn't afford anything extra right now. My extra cash went towards my meager savings I kept in a false bottom desk drawer at home and cigarettes. Sometimes I spent extra and got some Djarum clove cigarettes that I loved, but Jack hated the burnt leaf smell so I usually smoked those when I was home by myself.

Hearing a familiar gruff voice as I got closer to the counter, I began to smile. It turned into a grin when I saw my grandpa. "Grandpa!" I shouted and stepped out from behind the counter. I gave him a big hug and was wrapped up in his Brut aftershave that he always wore. When I first moved in with him, I was really annoyed at the scent that permeated his entire house. Now, I adore the scent because it's him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. Mostly out of concern for the rough neighborhood and he was not getting around as well as he used to.

"I came to see you, Monica. I can't come see my favorite granddaughter?" He said with mock sarcasm.

"It's always great to see you," I smiled at him. He always made me smile because his face reminded me of an old apple head doll from the early 20th century. His skin looked soft and it was wrinkled like natural linen. I stepped away from him to lean against the counter.

"It's two fold why I'm here," he said as he set a bottle of Woodford Reserve on the counter. "I wanted to get some bourbon and," he lowered his voice, looked around to make sure we had privacy, and said, "Jack stopped by today."

My smile dropped.

"What did he want?" My voice was flat.

Grandpa sighed. "I don't know how to tell you except in a direct way. He asked me for money. A lot of money. Thousands. Said he owed some guy."

I looked down at my hand as my fingernail picked at an old sticker advertising that Kenny Chesney rum. "Hmm," I mumbled. "Owed some guy," I repeated.

Slowly, the knowledge churned in my gut. I felt my stomach cramp in the place where Jack had socked me when my alarm went off early this morning. He was upset at the alarm sound which was a rooster crowing. I needed to get up, so I could run down to the health department for more birth control pills.

"I don't mean to bring this to you at work, Monica. I'm really sorry I did, but you needed to know. Jack also said some other things, but those I'll keep to myself." He raised his hand as if to shush me when I took a breath to say something. "It's between us. I won't involve you in that business. I'll take care of it, but I wanted you to know that I don't have the amount he asked for. Well, mostly he demanded. I'm worried he will do something drastic."

"He has been doing drastic things already, Grandpa. Stuff you don't know about." I heard the chime of the entrance door opening and glanced up to see one of our regulars step through. I nodded at him then looked down the counter where my co-worker Kyle was standing at the register. I looked back at my grandfather. "He started hitting me last year."

My grandfather's face looked murderous. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"How could I? It isn't something I can discuss like 'you want fries with that' or something." I shook my head. "I thought it was something I could handle on my own. Ro knows, and now you."

I looked up at my grandpa and said, "His behavior changed like night and day. I haven't figured out how to handle it."

Wasn't that the truth? I couldn't handle it, but I couldn't leave, either. I've read the stories all the time about women leaving their abusive husbands and boyfriends only to return time and again. It was psychological, I guess. I didn't leave because I still loved Jack. I had done the research and thought for sure he was doing meth which I found causes erratic behaviors and paranoia. I think he was hooked on something else too, but didn't know what. I didn't want to leave him to wallow in his own addiction. Stupid girl that I was, I thought I could help him get off whatever it was he was doing. But if he owed someone, his dealer probably, thousands of dollars, then I was screwed.

"I know it sounds stupid to say out loud, but I love Jack. I can't give up on him." Even to myself the words sounded hollow and rehearsed.

Grandpa pulled his lips tight and said what I didn't want to hear from someone I loved and respected, "You're a stupid girl, Monica. You're smart, but incredibly naive or ignorant or something. Jack's gone and got himself mixed up in drugs or gangs or something bad, and you think you can rescue him." He shook his head and placed his hand on the neck of the bourbon bottle. "I love you, but I can't sit idly by while he does things to you." He lifted up the bottle and brought it down to the far register where Kyle was ringing up customers. I jumped when he set the bottle down hard.