The Neighbors, II

While standing there between the abuser and his victim, I had all sorts of those split moment thoughts --and the thought of my imminent death also crossed my mind.  But for some reason, I was giving this abuser more credit that he deserved as I thought to myself, "He's not going to hit a pregnant woman."  I knew both she and I were weak compared to this man and so in those split second thoughts, the ones that race through your head at lightening speed, I tried to think of what upper hand I could have.  I prayed  and asked, "Lord, now what?"  Then I dawned on me --I got my answer.  You see, right there in the bushes, dark and late at night --standing there with a helpless abused woman and a strong abuser I had the power of . . . .

THE ENTIRE UNITED STATES ARMY.

You see, when you're a soldier, you're a soldier 24/7, 365 --in uniform, out of uniform, at work, at home, on duty, off duty, in the office, in your home --it just doesn't matter.  The Army has control over you in both your civilian and military affairs.  And --the Army just don't take much of a liking to abusers.  Period.  I knew these neighbors both knew my rank because we had seen each other in uniform several times --coming and going to work.  I knew I out ranked both of them.  The man was a SP4 and the woman was a PFC (E4 and E3).  I was a Sergeant (E5) and though I knew I couldn't or wasn't going to pull rank out here, I still knew rank was going to play an important part.

So wait, are you asking me if I had two entire paragraphs worth of thoughts while I had an abuser standing at my back?

Yes.  Yes I did.  Like I said, it was in that moment of panic when you literally can see your whole life flash before you --so two paragraphs is rather short compared to an entire life.  Can we please continue on with the story now?  Thank you.

So very calmly I turned around and I said to the man, "Hey, what company are you in?"

That's all I needed to say because behind that word "company" I had the United States armed forces on my side.  I knew it.  He knew it.  She knew it.

Abuser Guy:  Uh, why?

Me:  I don't know --I was just wondering.

Abuser Guy:  Wondering for what?  What's that got to do with anything?

Me:  Well, I was just wondering how interesting your 1SG would find all of this.

Girl:  We was just playn' --I tole you.

She walks over to the guy and he puts his arm around her.

Abuser:  Yeah, we do this all of the time.

Me:  (speaking directly to the girl)  One call to his 1SG or Commander and all of this will be over.

Girl:  I tole you --we's just playn'!  Awe, this ain't nuttin.

I walked away and as I did I hear whispering and kissing sounds.  I guess they were making up --or whatever that was.  I got back into my apartment and locked myself behind my paper thin door.  I realized I was trembling and I didn't know if I had just started trembling or if I had been that scared all along.  I was just glad I didn't know, that I didn't realize how scared I really was.  I prayed for protection again --because I had no idea who this guy was or what he was capable of.

After that I didn't hear much more fighting.  I heard a lot of yelling but nothing like before --or even that night; crashing noises and screams of pain.  And then pretty soon I didn't hear yelling either and then I realized, the girl left.  GOOD FOR HER!  I hope she left him for good --I really don't know.

A while later, even after I had my baby, there was a knock at my door one night.  I looked through the peep hole and saw the abuser standing at my door.  I opened my door and he was very friendly --like we had been  lemonade sipping neighbors all along, "Hey uh --I'm moving out and uh --well one of our end tables broke --I'm not sure what happened --but anyway, so the landlord is going to make me pay for it and I was wondering, do you have the same tables as we do?  Because I thought maybe I could borrow one of yours and then after the inspection I could bring it back.  (tries to look over/around me into my apartment) --so do you have one of those brown wooden end tables like . . "

I cut him off, "No--I don't have the same furniture as you but even if I did, that just doesn't sound like a good idea to me."  I start to close the door.  And he pushes the door, gently but still pushed it.

And then I was more frightened than that night standing in the bushes.  This time I had a baby in the house and no other witnesses around.  That's when he did it --

He turned on his charm.  Like I said before, he was a very attractive man --and he knew that.  This guy started smiling and batting his eyes and turning on charm like the waters of Niagara Falls.  All I could think was --UN-BE-LIEV-ABLE!  What a jerk.  He was making me sick to my stomach.  I felt like he was a creepy poisonous spider weaving his web and hungrily looking at me to see if I'd just dare to get caught in his trap.  Whilst trying to charm his way to my table, I looked at his hand on my door and then looked at him, "I already said you can't have my table.  Now if you would please take your hand off of my door --because if you don't, I'm going to call the police and when they come I best assure you I'm not going to tell them "we was just playn'".  He took his hand off of his door and then waved it at me saying, "Awe, forget you man!"  Then he walked back towards his apartment.

I again locked myself behind my paper thin door, in my crappy apartment and once again, my hands were trembling.

I never saw the girl or the abuser again.

The Neighbors

Remember I lived in a small crappy apartment?  I had neighbors, too.

I mostly stayed to myself as I really wasn't interested in making friends with my fellow apartment dwellers.  There were three floors to the building with 2 apartments on each floor.  I was on the second floor and in the apartment across the hall from me was a young couple.  They could have been married, or not --I really don't know.  They were both active duty soldiers as well.  That's pretty much all I knew about them.  I heard them more than I ever saw them.

And heard them I did.  Almost every night there would be screaming and yelling coming from their apartment.  It was more like the man yelling and the woman screaming in fear or pain --and loud crashing noises too.  The woman would be yelling things like, "Please stop! No!  Okay, I won't. . . ."  Sometimes it was just inaudible words.  It always scared me.  I would go over to my door and double check the locks and put the chain on the door --that really didn't make me feel much safer but it seemed something smart to do.  Sometimes I would hear their door slam as if someone left.

The first time it happened I called the police but I did not give my name.  I was too afraid too.  When the police showed up, the woman came to the door and told the police everything was fine.  I, of course, through our paper thin doors, could hear the entire conversation and even see bits of it through the peep hole on my door.  My heart was pounding and my palms sweaty as I realized there was just a paper thin door between me and this man across the hall --and this woman seemed to be defending him.

That angered me and scared me all the more.  After the police left I heard the man yelling, "DID YOU CALL THEM?  DID YOU CALL THE POLICE ON ME?"  The woman was crying and assuring him she had nothing to do with it.  Calling the police only made the situation worse.

On occasion when I'd see one of them in the hallway, they were both so nice and friendly.  The man was very attractive, which surprised me.  I wanted him to look like the monster I thought he was.  The young woman was very attractive too and timid and shy.  Without looking like I was gawking at her, whenever I saw her I tried hard to see bruises, marks or any other signs of injury.  She was a lovely dark skinned woman, these things were difficult for me to spot with just a quick glance.

This went on week after week until one night, it was the worst it ever had been.  By this time, I was well into my pregnancy.  The fighting began as it usually did but soon it had escalated beyond anything I had heard before.  There was a loud smashing sound --like something very large had been throw against the wall.  It was horrible.  Then I heard their front door open so I quickly looked out the peep hole and saw the woman running out, she was terrified.  The man ran after her and I could hear them outside.

I have no idea what sort of lack of sense came about me but when I thought about calling the police I remembered that only made things worse the last time.  So this time I decided the last thing this guy wanted was a witness --so slowly I slide the chain off of my door, turned the door knob and found myself walking down the stairs toward the screams.    I got outside and looked over to find the woman hiding in a bush.   She was crying and trembling so I walked over to her and said, "You don't have to take this.  You can get help.  Let me help you."  She looked at me and started to step out of the bushes and suddenly her expression changed and she conjured up a fake smile and said, "Oh man, we're just playn' and stuff."  She stood there with stone cold eyes, staring behind me.  I turned around and there he was, the woman beater and I was standing between him and his victim.

Burning Coals

My chapel experience rattled me.  I was already reeling in my own guilt and shame and grasping forgiveness seemed far out of my reach.

Because I didn't deserve it, right?

That's what Satan wanted me to believe.  And it worked, for a time.

I was rattled and uncertain and I never wanted to go back into a church again, not if that was how I was going to be treated.  And so for a time, I put off the quest for a church.  I couldn't bring myself to endure that rejection again.

Jerry and I were not able to call each other, because of the crazy overseas calls expense.  But we wrote to each other every day.  That was the only form of communication we had with each other and as it were, mail was slow to reach him and we were constantly a week or two behind each others lives.  It was frustrating in a way, but it was all we knew.  It wasn't like we had any concept of emails, chatting, skype or the like so though we had limited means to communicate- --it just was what it was.

I was also torn between wanting to be married and not wanting to be married.  I did not like the looks of disapproval my unwed pregnancy brought upon me.  I did not like how people seemed to equate my pregnancy with a lack of intelligence.  I did not like the assumptions people made about me because I was pregnant.  And mostly, I wanted to be a family; Mom, Dad & baby.  I wanted that.  I desperately wanted that.

But I was scared.

Because a baby did not seem a good enough reason to get married and before I left Germany, prior to knowing I was pregnant, I was already beginning to have doubts, doubts about Jerry and me, doubts about marriage, doubts about the Army.  And those doubts scared me.  A lot.  For as much as I wanted to bring my baby into a complete family, I also did not want to jump into a marriage that wouldn't last and put my child through divorce and separation. 

But what bothered me the most was how people just assumed I was going to get married.  It was never asked of me but rather stated like, "When you and Jerry get married . . ." And the assumption was that the only reason we were not married yet was because he was in Germany.  I found that odd.  On the other hand, they found it odd that I wasn't running to the alter.

In all the hurt and rejection I was already facing, this matter wasn't making it any easier.  In a conversation with a close family member about me getting married it was asked of me, "So when are you and Jerry getting married?"  Not "if" but "when".  I didn't know how to put into words what I was feeling and confused about so I simply said, "I don't know."  And to that, this person responded, "Well, this has gone on long enough.  It's embarrassing.  What do you expect us to tell people when they ask about you?  You're being selfish and not thinking of the position you have put your family in.  We are uncomfortable telling our friends about your pregnancy and you're not even married."

Those words cut deep and even to this day, sometimes they resound in my head and my heart has a hard time wrapping around them  Selfish?  I was so desperately trying not to be selfish and conceive what was best for my baby.  How was that selfish?  And wow, an embarrassment to my family?  Hurtful words.

Hurtful words to a young woman that was alone, losing her mother, confused, pregnant and without any means to even have these conversations with Jerry.

But I did realize that I wasn't the only one struggling.  This was huge to my family --all of them.

And coals of guilt and heartache were heaped upon my head.

Going To The Chapel

Having made confessions of the heart, I desperately needed spiritual nourishment and so, I sought out to find a church.  At the time, I was still living in the barracks and so it seemed attending church on post would be the easiest thing to do.  I looked in the post directory and found the listing for the Main Chapel's services.  The next Sunday I was prepared to go to church.

The main chapel was located on the main post, I suppose.  It was near the Officer Housing, where the officers and their families lived.  It was a small chapel but had a basement where classrooms for Sunday School classes and the like took place.

Walking into a brand new church alone was certainly not something I was accustomed to doing, nor comfortable with.  Especially back then, much younger and more insecure with myself, it was a monumental task for me to muster up enough courage to do so.  But courage I found but it was wrought with nerves and fear and anxiety.  But my desire to go to church was far deeper than my anxious thoughts and feelings and so, I made myself go.  I pushed through it.

I don't remember much about the services but I do remember not feeling very welcomed.  Not many people greeted me or even acknowledged me.  Even so, I sat through services and determined within myself to keep coming and keep giving it a chance.  Every fiber in my body wanted to bolt out the back door but my heart was so aching for fellowship, love and acceptance.  My soul was thirsting for God's Word and all those desires, they kept me planted in the pew.

After service was over there was mingling and I was doing my best to mingle too.  People were talking to each other, fetching their children from Sunday School/nursery, etc.  As far as I could tell, the congregation was made up of families; husbands, wives, children.  That made me uneasy too --a single soldier and I wasn't even showing yet  but that stigma of the unwed pregnancy was ever in my mind, too.  I was also keenly aware, though no one was in uniform, that these were mostly, if not all, Officers and their families.

There were some crooked smiles tossed my way and even a few good mornings but no one talked to me, much to my disappointment.  I even tried to muster up questions to ask, prodding and hoping to spark a conversation but I'd just get a simple matter-of-fact answer and that was that.  Ready to move on back to the barracks, a woman was approaching me.  I was excited.  I felt like okay, this moment here, this was my gateway in.

The woman extended her hand and a smile, introduced herself and welcomed me.  She asked me if I was new to Ft. Riley and if my husband would be joining me soon.  I explained to her that I was not married and then assuming I was an officer, asked where I was living. When I told her the barracks and she knew I was enlisted --she quickly withdrew her hand from mine.  Her smile abandoned her face in a flash.  She gave me a look-over from head to toe and in a matter of seconds, she made me feel like an unworthy piece of trash.  She just responded to me, "Oh" and as she said just that simple two letter word, her voice trailed off.  And as quick as her smile left her face, she left my presence.  Left me standing there.

And I couldn't get out of that chapel fast enough.  I rushed towards the exit and got to my car.  I sat in the front seat and bowed my head and cried.  And in a prayer crying out to God, I uttered out loud, "I'm so sorry."

Because that woman and that entire congregation made me feel so unworthy of God's love, like I didn't deserve to be there among them.

These Were The Days

While I was soldiering at Ft. Riley and going through my pregnancy, my Mom was back and forth between her home in Florida and my sister's home in Michigan.

After surgery, Mom underwent radiation treatments.  She never did have Chemo as the doctors said it would not be affective with her type of cancer.  So Mom would get her treatments in Florida and then my step-dad, Bob, would drive Mom to Michigan and there Mom would stay.  At this point I don't remember knowing Mom's prognosis and I'm not sure if its because none of us knew or because no one would tell me or maybe I knew but just blocked it out.

Talking to Mom on the phone was difficult because her tumor was in the part of the brain that controls speech so Mom often forgot words or misused words.  Sometimes she'd be very frustrated with herself and other times she'd laugh and say, "I know what I want to say but my brain doesn't know how to tell me what word to use." And she'd point to her head and roll her eyes as if to say, "Silly brain."  It was cute.

But as you can imagine, being alone in Ft. Riley and going through a pregnancy and my Mom's illness simultaneously was tough.  I had good days.  I had bad days.

My Dad called me just about every day.  One day he called while I was at work, which wasn't all that uncommon.  We didn't always talk long, he'd just check in and see how things were going.

This particular day, this was one of those bad days.  It was so bad it had no words.

I'm sitting at my desk in Legal Assistance, a waiting room full of clients, and I answer the phone and hear my Dad's voice and I froze.  I could not speak.  I could not move.  I was completely frozen in time and at the time, completely unaware of any of my surroundings.  All I was aware of was the sound of my Dad's voice.

This was a particularly bad day for me because Mom had a bad day.  She had suffered a seizure and had to be rushed to the hospital.  I was helpless. I couldn't be there with Mom and all I could do was wait for news and while I waited, all I could do was continue to soldier . . there at Ft. Riley.

My Dad said, "Melissa?"

And I said.  I said nothing.  And then Dad said nothing.  And it was one of those very rare moments that even for a phone conversation, words were not needed.  I heard his silence and he heard mine.  Tears were rolling down my face and no words, none at all would come to my lips.

And Dad said, "I know how difficult this is for you girls."

And I cried.

And more silence but in that silence was a volume of communication.  I heard Dad's comfort.  I heard Dad's hugs.  He heard my pain.  And unable to speak, every tear and every sob said a word.  I tried to utter words but nothing seemed big enough for this moment, deep enough.  No words conveyed my heart.  They were too limited but as I struggled to utter something Dad said, "You don't have talk."

And there sitting at my desk with tears dripping down onto my green Army maternity uniform, my Dad's silence comforted me.  Until finally, my heart found some words and I said, in my sobs, "I love her so much."

"I know you do."

"I have to go now.  I'm at work."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be okay, Dad."

And event though we were not in the same room or even the same state, it was one of the most intimate moments I ever had with my father --exposed hearts.

I hung up the phone and aware of all the people staring at me, I got up and walked out of the office.  I had no mind as to where I was going or what I was doing.  I was just walking.  And I walked right into my NCOIC and upon seeing me he asked if I was okay and I said to him, "I can't be here right now."  With no further questions he told me to go home.  I told him I'd have to ask my OIC (my Captain) and he said, "No, I'll take care of everything.  You go home and take care of yourself and your baby."

These were the days I was living.

There at Ft. Riley, Kansas.