The Wake-Up Call

We must be willing to let go of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.

~Joseph Campbell

The house was unusually quiet. All four kids were out. The younger ones were playing with their friends. The older two were up to whatever unsupervised teens are usually up to on a hot summer afternoon. I was taking advantage of the time alone to hide inside a book. Reading a good mystery always took me away from my fear as I waited for my husband to come home from work.

What would he find fault with this time? How had I failed to anticipate his ever-changing expectations? Why was he so impossible to please?

Would this be one of the days I was too ugly to look at? “Why don’t you even try to fix yourself up? Do something with that rat’s nest you call hair. And put on some make-up. No wonder I take my time coming home after work.”

I tried to look my best, but with four kids, housework, a nervous dog who peed when stressed, and a job, there were days when pulling on a clean pair of jeans and a fresh T-shirt, arranging my hair in a ponytail, and washing my face before he arrived was the best I could do. And, frankly, it was all I wanted to do.

But when I made the effort, it was worse.

“What’s with all the make-up and the dress? Who are you trying to impress? You’re a wife and mother, for God’s sake. Are you running around on me? Who is he? Tell me, or I’ll beat it out of you!”

So far, he hadn’t done it, but the threats were coming more often. The rage in his eyes was becoming more intense, and then there were the clenched fists, no longer trembling at his sides but raised and brandished at me.

I’m trapped, I thought. With only a high-school education, I was trained for nothing that would pay enough money to support the kids and me.

I’d done well at the job I did have. Starting as a waitress at a new restaurant in the mall nearby, I watched and learned. I filled in for every job in the place. A few years later, when an opening came up for a new manager, I applied. I was thrilled to get it.

Although he tried to hide it at first, he was very angry. The verbal abuse intensified. When I wouldn’t react, he’d hone in on one of the kids so I would have to step in and bear the consequences of disrespecting him. I knew it was only a matter of time before he went too far, but I saw no way out.

I tried to distract myself with my book, but I must have drifted off to sleep.

I heard the sound of knocking and the rattle of the flimsy screen door repeatedly hitting the doorjamb.

“Just a minute. I’m coming!” I called as I did my best to smooth my wrinkled shirt. “Oh, God, what’s happened? Are my kids okay?” The sight of a cop standing on my porch sent my heart racing, fear of what he would say next buckling my knees.

“I’m not here about a child. It’s your husband. There’s been an accident. I’m so sorry. The paramedics did all they could, but he didn’t survive.”

“I need to sit down,” I gasped. The words were barely out of my mouth when my butt hit the floor.

“May I come in?” the officer asked. “I’ll help you to a chair and get you some water. Is there someone I can call to be with you?”

What happened next was a blur of neighbors taking over. “You go up and rest. We’ve got this. We’ll get the little ones fed and into bed and stay with the older ones while you take some time to yourself,” they insisted.

Somehow, everything got done.

Next, I stood at the gravesite surrounded by my children and a huge crowd of friends and neighbors I hadn’t seen in months. When it was finally over and we were alone at home, I gathered my kids around me and assured them they would be okay.

That night, alone in my bed, I cried. I mourned for what might have been. I cried for what the future would hold as I struggled to hold my family together. Mostly, I cried tears of relief. I didn’t need to be afraid anymore.

When I woke up, I flipped through the phone book for the name of a divorce lawyer. The dream was a wake-up call. I didn’t want him to die, but I did want the pain and fear to end, and I was ready to make it happen.

Going it alone was every bit as hard as I feared it would be. Many months, a bill or two went unpaid. I learned how to stretch my grocery budget as far as possible and skipped dinner often to make sure there was enough for the kids to eat. A cup of tea with an extra spoonful of sugar would get me through to the next morning. It was all worth it. Even the loneliness was better than what had been my life before.

I thought when I made the decision to walk away from my marriage that I would be alone forever. Who would want to become involved with a woman like me?

I never suspected he was close by.

One night, as I was leaving work, I stopped at the bank to deposit the day’s receipts, and there he was: the handsome guy with the warm smile and beautiful brown eyes who sometimes came into the restaurant for lunch. After chatting for a while, he invited me out for ice cream the next night.

A date to go for ice cream. I couldn’t resist.

Five years later, I married this special man. And now, every day, I wake up to the love of my life — a man who does all he can to be the best husband and father possible.

— Bobbi Carducci —