One thing about appearances, they are always deceiving. In order to appear to be the happy family we aren’t, some things must be done like a regular couple, one of those being grocery shopping.
Monte has people, sure, but given that his income isn’t what one would claim as taxable, I don’t have a staff. Things like grocery shopping are left as wifely duties. Add in that the majority of Monte’s money is cash, and I needed to find a way to tip the scales, and I did.
Men should never underestimate the power of a mother. I will take a lot of shit—and I mean a lot of shit—for the sake of survival. There is nothing I won’t do for my baby girl, even if she did come from him.
Years of verbal assaults left me weak. He beat me—not physically, never. No, he reminds me even now of the night he beat me, how he bested me at my very own game. While I was fighting for my momma, he didn’t give a second thought to using my naivete, my false bravado, my stupid schemes, and my desperate attempt to break the ties that bind to tip the scales in his favor.
Momma paid her penance for bad choices. Now I pay mine.
I can handle anything he throws at me. He can say whatever he wants, put me down, rip me to shreds; I can take it all and not miss a beat. Day in and day out, Monte finds a way to remind me of where I come from. I take that. I deserve that.
I play him. Checks and balances.
Give me your worst, Monte. I’ll withstand. Momma didn’t raise me to be weak. She didn’t raise me to break. Sure, I may be a product of my circumstances, but I am not broken.
Yet.
Warriors in battle keep their weapons close, and my weapon is time. The opportunity to escape free and clear will come. I just have to give it time, to endure until the situation changes and my opening presents itself.
In time, I will escape. Only, nothing has gone right from the beginning, and now I have Marisa to think about. Seven years of hell I have endured, buying my time, and with it came the last three years of the heaven I see in my little girl’s eyes.
Monte isn’t an active dad. He has only held her when we have an audience. Behind closed doors, my daughter is nothing but another mouth for him to feed, another debt for me to repay.
Reasons and excuses—they are like checks and balances. We all have reasons and excuses for everything we do or don’t do.
Marisa is his excuse for keeping me around. She’s a way to manipulate and control me.
However, she’s my reason for everything. No excuse is acceptable for letting her down. I won’t fail. The cycle ends with her. I have to put her first.
With that in mind, I started my housewife hustle, played my part. Every chance I get, I score my load, hide it away until the time is right to make my escape.
I have had seven years to earn some freedoms like the grocery store, my greatest adventure. Although Monte gives me cash and a grocery list, he didn’t make it far in this world without being a smart man, so of course he wants the change and the receipt. The items have to match.
He has one area of ignorance, though—women’s needs. Once I realized he wouldn’t attend my gynecology exams, I had my doctor insert an IUD that makes my period practically go away. Since Monte didn’t care if we had more children or not, he wasn’t concerned with my not taking birth control pills. This created the perfect cover.
Each month at the grocery store, I purchase feminine products in bulk, and he never questions the purchases. I buy double, sometimes triple what I would normally need. Then, using a calendar, I make sure to use the smallest amount so the trash can shows the use of some of the products.
Before he gets home on shopping days, I make a copy of the receipt. I’ve scanned my rewards card so the receipt can be looked up in the computer. Since he isn’t home when I leave for the store, he doesn’t see me return the items for cash.
I cut the liner of Marisa’s suitcase and hide my stash there, being sure to keep the opening hidden, the money flush against the fabric. It took time, but every little bit counts, and in three years, I have managed some savings. I’m not nearly ready, but something is better than nothing.
Things were actually going pretty well, all things considered. That should have been my first clue that something was off. How did I miss the clues before this moment?
I return home from the store, and as I unload the groceries, I hear a noise upstairs. Marisa is away with Jamie, my one real friend in this crazy life. Jamie’ll keep her until I get the groceries put away, and then she’ll bring her back to me. As a result, there shouldn’t be anyone home to make noise except me.
Trying to tell myself I’m hearing things, I keep at my task. However, the moans sound again, and I follow the noise, thinking someone broke into the house.