The Day the Light Came on in Georgia

THE DAY THE LIGHT CAME ON IN GEORGIA

Jerry had kept insisting that we needed a new start, away from our families. We would get new jobs and make new friends. Now I sat on a log in the woods along a highway in Georgia, reflecting on my marriage and how I got here, afraid for my life and trying to think of some way to save myself.

We were on our way to Florida. There was a lot of construction going on and he had been promised a job as soon as we could get there. We only brought what would fit in the trunk of our 1958 Thunderbird.

We got married when I was 17 and he was 23. My parents were very much against it but gave their permission when I insisted. We started off okay. We had good jobs; I worked 8:00 to 4:30 and he worked 3:00 to 11:00. We didn't have much time together except on weekends. He was very controlling, kept track of my every move. I was so much in love and believed this proved how much he loved me.

A year came and went. The first time I resisted his controlling and he hit me with his fist, I was shocked out of my mind. Later he sat me down on his lap and hugged and kissed me and told me how sorry he was that he had hurt me. He said he loved me and would never intentionally hurt me. Oh, how many times I was to hear this promise.

It was the sixties and domestic violence was a dirty little secret that society preferred to ignore. There were more scenes like that one; him hitting, me crying, then apologies and lovemaking. He told me once he would rather kiss me when I was crying than eat when he was hungry.

He was insanely jealous and beat me a lot. I told everyone I was very clumsy, fell down stairs, hit my head on cabinet doors, and many more excuses I made up to explain black eyes, split lips, and bruises. I really didn't want anyone to know.

I told myself that he really did love me and when he hit me, he convinced me that it was my fault. I was making him mad and he couldn't help it. I tiptoed around, so afraid of causing a confrontation. I felt I had to make my marriage work. Hadn't I vowed "for better or for worse" and "till death do us part?"

Sometimes the police were called. He would answer the door and tell the officers everything was okay and they would go away. Several did ask me if everything was okay but I knew better than to tell them the truth. The laws and police procedures didn't protect abused women in those days.

Close friends talked me into filing charges against him; they were concerned for my safety. When he found out, he took me to the police station and stood behind me, with my arm bent up behind my back, while I dropped the charges. Another time, when a court appearance was scheduled, he simply drove me out of town until court was over. Since I was a "no show," the charges against him were dropped.

This was the pattern when he decided that all we needed was a new start. I was so young and naive and I wanted to believe him; we would be so close because we would only have each other. The next thing I knew, Florida, here we come.

On the way, he imagined I was flirting with a truck driver who passed us on the highway and gave a little toot on his horn. He kept saying, "Where are you supposed to meet him?"

He suddenly stopped the car on the side of the road, somewhere in Georgia. He dragged me off into the woods and sat me on a fallen log. He beat me while he berated me and told me what a poor ignorant fool I was. His face was truly frightening when he leaned close to me, with the knife held under my chin, and said, "Little girl, I think I'll kill you right here. I can hide your body so that no one will ever know what happened to you."

As I sat there, listening to his ranting and raving, I believed that I would probably not live to see another day. He meant it when he said he would have no problem killing me. Suddenly I realized that I had let this go too far.

This was a moment that I would remember forever. I like to think the light finally came on. I began planning, then and there. I prayed, and bargained with God. If He would help me I wouId be able to get away. I cried and begged Jerry for my life. I promised him I would do everything he told me to. I told him I loved him and we could make it work, praying he believed me. He pulled me back to the car and we got on the road to our new life.

That was a time of complete and abject fear. I knew I had to get away; I had to bide my time until I could. I was cut off from my family, no letters or phone calls. I finally got an opportunity to call my aunt. She wired me some money and I caught the first bus going north. Jerry had me paged at every bus station on the way. He followed me back home, arriving before I did because he flew. My family protected me while I filed for a divorce.

He was eventually diagnosed with Schizophrenia and committed suicide about ten years after our divorce. He was a very tortured soul, but I thank God that I saw the light that day in a Georgia woods.

(996 words)