The Last Night I Slept on the Floor

I wear his last name as a reminder of the last disastrous mistake that I made. I can still hear his voice screaming obscenities at me and the embarrassment and humiliation I felt as he did this in front of strangers on the street. There were plenty of times I should have left. Many women go through physically and emotionally abusive situations everyday and never leave; some even die. My father abused my mom and my siblings for years, but my mother was a product of a generation that kept silent. I was not, but I still kept quiet until the end. The truth is there were many times I wanted to leave and did not. I suffered humiliation, lying, cheating, manipulation and physical abuse.

We had just gotten married a few months before when his behavior towards me became increasingly hostile. He was English and needed me in order to obtain his green card. I agreed to marry him. We had been together for seven years. The day we went to city hall he told me he wanted me to take his name. After the ceremony we had it changed on the marriage certificate. I let him take my power and my self-worth in those years and I’m still struggling to get it back.

In the beginning he was kind and supportive. I met Anthony when we were co-workers. He is extremely successful and we became fast friends. He was exceptionally charming and people love him. This is his outside appearance. Behind closed doors no one would have ever expected he was a maniac. It started with a push outside of a hotel in downtown Manhattan. We had been out drinking after work and I can’t recall what was even said at the time to set him off. That night I should have known. I brushed it off and told myself it was the alcohol. We were both in other relationships at the time. After I had broken things off with my then -boyfriend we became involved. He was still in a relationship. I quit my job when our relationship at work had become too obvious for my comfort. I cut off our romantic ties and went about my life. A year later he left his wife and showed up in my life again. Very quickly he moved in with me. I was over the moon. He showered me with gifts and affection like no one else I had ever met.

Then he gave me more misery than I could have ever imagined. The first big fight occurred shortly after he moved in. He hated my apartment and let me know it. He got drunk and proceeded to smash my things and destroy my apartment. He smashed a Merano glass lighting fixture in my bedroom that hung too low for his liking. He then put his hand through the window of my apartment. He spread his blood all over my walls. He started to attack me physically. He would begin by kicking at me. He would never have hit me in the face where my marks would be visible. I defended myself the best I could and I ran from my apartment. That night I slept on the floor of my office at my business to get away from him. We separated shortly after.

I moved to a new apartment without him. He never left me alone. He would call me at 4:00 am crying outside my apartment. I didn’t want him to be hurt in my dangerous neighborhood at night. I let him back in. He became kinder for a while. He would still get drunk and miserable, but I wasn’t living with him and ignored most of his bad behavior. He bought an apartment and asked me to move in. I did. Things were fine for a short time.

Then he isolated me. I had decided to close my business in Brooklyn and pursue other interests. We had made an agreement that I would be able to go to school while he supported me. He told me “take a year off,” then I allowed him to destroy my soul. I became increasingly cut-off from all of my friends because I was living far away from them in Queens. The fights and resentment increased as well. He began coming home later and I began to not care. I used to cringe when I knew he was walking into the building.

The last fight was in April. The whole relationship came crashing down. I had flown back to New York from Wisconsin. That night I went back to the apartment in Queens. There was a vicious fight. The police were called by a neighbor and when they finally arrived I was asleep on the couch. I awoke to police removing the door to our apartment. He owned it so I was told to get out. That night I was left on the street with my dog and suitcase. The neighbor, who owned the apartment next door to ours, let me stay in his empty apartment on the other side of the co-op. That night I slept on the floor again for the last time. I went to a hotel in Flushing the next day. I flew back to Wisconsin the day after that for a month. I went back to New York for the last time. It only took me five days to pack everything I had. I never saw him during that time. I packed my things and myself into a U-haul along with my mom and my dog we drove back to Wisconsin. I realized that I had better leave before he killed me or I killed him. He’s now on his fourth marriage. I wonder if he does the same to her. Then I remember, even though some days are hard, I’m better off alone.