Life After Love

By Brenda Walbey-Ross

Sometimes your heart needs more time to accept what your mind already knows. These words illuminate what sometimes happens when we are victims of a domestic violence relationship and are blinded by the love and emotional attachment that we feel for our partner. Although red flags are beating us to a bloody pulp, we trudge on, sidestepping the puddles of blood that surround us while we either tell ourselves that if we just hang in there, the situation will miraculously get better, or if we can just be better ourselves and not push our partner's "buttons," our relationship will calm down, and all will be well. Fact–check-the problem is not about the victim; it is about the perpetrator of the abuse. Life After Love is all at the same time-a love story, a scary story, and a cautionary tale. The storyline is an anecdotal account of my own life in a domestic violence relationship explaining why I define it as a love story, a scary story, and a cautionary tale. It is also spliced with statistics and theories to provide factual evidence of the causes and repercussions of abusive domestic relationships. The most important part of the account is to assure the reader that although it may be difficult to navigate a way out of the abuse and to escape the erratic roller–coaster ride that the relationship could be compared to and if allowed to do so, the heart will eventually accept what the mind already knows and conclude that there is life after love. My hope is that those reading my book and find their relationship mirroring mine will allow my success story to become their success story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643507170

Book preview

Chapter 1

The End

His arms slipped around my waist, and he pulled me close to him. His lips barely touched mine, and I felt that same ecstasy that I always felt whenever he touched me or kissed me or held me close. I moved closer to him and hugged him tight just as I did when we were dancing. I ran my fingers through his hair and stroked his back. I was in seventh heaven. He kissed me all over just as he always did before we made love. He whispered how he was going to excite and tingle all my senses. I opened my eyes expecting to look into his. It took a moment to orient myself to my surroundings. The room was dark. I was lying in my bed, and then I was devastated to discover that I was alone. I realized that I had been dreaming. Reality rushed back into my tortured mind, and loneliness washed over me as hot tears ran down my cheeks. I was forced to return my mind to the present. I was forced to remember that I would no longer feel his kiss or his touch. I was forced to remember that he was no longer a presence in my life; I was forced to remember that he would never be in my life again. Throughout the long drama that was our life together, I had often wished that I would never see him again, but not like this! I guess we do have to be careful of what we wish for! He was dead! Robert was dead, and I was terribly sad. It was still hard for me to say the word dead, and while I was not sure that my heart will ever fully recover, I needed to remember that so much of our relationship was abusive and volatile, and that death itself was probably the only thing that was going to truly remove him from my life. When I was told that he was dead, I cried. I played old songs that he and I had danced and made love to. I cried for several days straight. I cried so much that when my sister Theo called to check on me, she commented that she could not even recognize my voice. My heart was broken, and I did not believe that I would survive, but I did. Truthfully, when all was said and done, I must admit that occasionally, when I allow my mind to journey through the good times that we had when our love was young and new and sweet and tender, my eyes fill with tears, and they stream down my face and then they dry and streak my face, and I leave them there until the memories go back where they belong—on a shelf, way, way back in the recesses of my mind.

My constant prayer was that he was now at peace. The demons that chased him throughout his life had found their prey and had subdued it. My comfort was that, I believed the words in the Bible that told us that the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23)⁵ and so now that Robert had paid his wages, he could rest. Good night, my love, my Robert, sleep well.

Chapter 2

Our Beginning

My name is Brenda. His name was Robert, but usually, I called him Rob. I sometimes wonder how my life would have turned out if I had missed work the day the moving company he worked for came to move the furniture in the office building where I worked. I didn’t even notice him until my attention was drawn to him by my coworker who remarked that he looked like her stepson. I looked up to judge for myself, and his eyes met mine and locked for several seconds. He smiled at me, and the image of his handsome face imprinted itself on my mind. I dragged my eyes away from his. When I looked at him, my eyes took in the picture of a tall, dark, and handsome guy. I learned later that he was of Italian and German descent, and man oh man, he was extraordinarily handsome. Shortly after that engaging glance, one of Robert’s coworkers named Mary walked up to me and told me that he wanted to meet me. I declined the opportunity, but she went on to tell me what a great and sensitive guy he was and how she thought I would be making a mistake if I didn’t meet him.

I told her that it was simply a matter of my not wanting to get involved with anyone. No other thoughts of him filled my head until he walked up to me and introduced himself by telling me his name and telling me how pretty he thought I was and how much he really wanted to take me out. He asked me to go to lunch with him. I refused and told him that I already had plans to go to lunch with one of my female friends. He offered to take us both, but again, I refused. I thanked him for the compliment and told him that I was finishing up with a divorce, and I just wanted to spend time with myself and my kids. He seemed to give up, and both of us went back to our respective duties. As I went about checking to make sure all the furniture had been moved to its proper place, I noticed that a table was missing. Some of the excess furniture was to be delivered to our company warehouse and, therefore, was put on the moving van. I walked out into the office foyer and asked if anyone had seen the table. Robert rushed to my side and asked me to describe the table. I told him what it looked like, and then he ran down the stairs and out to the truck to look for the table. He returned with a wide grin on his face, which indicated he had found the table. He immediately took charge and lined up a few guys to go and bring the table back in. After the return of the table was complete, Robert informed me that his efforts surely deserved a reward. What would that reward entail I asked him, and he answered that it would only be fair for me to give him my phone number. What could I do; I was hooked.

He got the number, and to my surprise, I waited excitedly for him to call. That night, he called and asked me to go to lunch. It was a Tuesday. I told him I would have lunch with him on Friday. I guess the answer to how my life would have played out had I never met him was that it would have been a whole lot more peaceful and a whole lot less heartbreaking.

Friday, he showed up at my job, and in his hands was a large and beautiful bouquet of flowers. All the eyes of my female coworkers were trained on me. I felt like a queen. I introduced him to all and then walked out of the office with him. He grabbed for my hand, but I snatched it from his grasp, but I knew that I wanted to hold his hand. I also knew that I wanted to hold him. We wound up at my apartment. Just to talk, he promised. I just want to get to know you better, he said. Soon after, we closed the door to my apartment, he grabbed me and tried to kiss me. I must admit that in my lifetime, I had been more determined not to be kissed than I was with him, but I think the truth was that, I would have been disappointed if he had not tried to kiss me, so I let it happen. It was a sweet, compelling kiss. It was a kiss that begged for more from both of us. I was shocked at my own behavior and feelings. This was so unlike me.

I regained my senses and told him to stop, and that if he did not want to eat, then he could just take me back to work. He didn’t stop. I pulled away from him. I screamed at him to stop. He said okay and dropped his hands only to recoup them around my waist for a second time. He kissed me and kissed me, kisses that set all my senses on fire. Yes, I had been married before, and as a teenager, I had done my share of kissing, but I had never, ever felt like this before. Still, I was determined that he would not have his way with me on our first date. I wrenched myself out of his locked arms and demanded that he take me back to work. He refused. He said he could not resist me. All of a sudden, I wanted him too, but I was still determined that he was not going to have me on a first date.

Shortly after making that proclamation, I lost that fight. My most vivid memory was that he was a wonderful lover, and I also remembered smiling all the way back to work and smiling the remainder of the day. I couldn’t wait to talk to him again. Gosh, darn it, I knew I wasn’t in love; you just don’t fall in love that fast. I didn’t try to fool myself that it was love at first sight. I gave it the name it deserved and that was lust; however, the more I was with him, the more I began to have deep feelings for him. It was nothing akin to love at first but certainly something growing. It was not until he told me that he loved me, and I had rebuked him as not even having known me long enough to love me that I knew I was in real trouble because by that time, I had begun to care for him too. Love did come eventually. That love or whatever it was caused me to totally ignore all the red flags that beat and bloodied me constantly.

I heard it said that some women really like the bad-boy type. I guess it was because we may feel that the essence of our own life was so boring. I know that I am a smart woman; however, I was intrigued by the way that Robert lived on the edge. Once I went to pick him up at his friend’s house. I was somewhat intimidated by the mixture of personalities I encountered at that house. Maybe even a little tingling scared of them. I stood close to Robert as he walked me through introductions. Mary, his coworker, was also at the house. She had brought along her pistol. The conversation centered on her gun for the first few minutes. Apparently, she and some of the others at this house had gone cruising and shooting street signs. I was horrified not only by the knowledge that I had just gained but also by the presence of the gun specifically. I had never been that close to a real gun before, and the fact that it was loaded filled me with terror. I am deathly afraid of mice; just thinking about them makes me feel faint. The day I was that close to a loaded gun gave me the same feeling, so how I could do what I did next was still something of a mystery to me.

I don’t even remember how the disagreement began or even what the disagreement was about, but quite suddenly, Robert and Mary began to argue. I stood back, both startled and scared. The argument escalated. Mary pulled out her gun and pointed it at Robert, and I screamed no and jumped right in between Mary’s gun and Robert. I tell you this short epic not to exhibit my ferocious love for Robert but to give you some food for thought. First, I understand stand by my man; however, I had three small children at that time, and my being killed would have gravely affected their lives forever. When I think about that day, I get physically ill. Next, I would have died for a man I really did not know. It is only now, in the later part of my life, as I analyze my life with Robert, that I try to decide why I did it, and I still cannot come up with a good reason, so I will simply try being philosophical. Could it have been because I didn’t want to lose this extraordinary love that I thought I had found? I have found that to never be a good-enough reason for almost denying my children their mother. I add to this revelation the fact that our children should always come first. Blood is thicker than water. Fooling ourselves that we should stay together for the sake of the kids is never a realistic reality. Staying together because we do not want to be alone is