"You're welcome at my place antime," he said as he passed a small siver key from his hand to mine. I stared into his eyes. I was speechless. Two days after graduation and my life was laying itself out before me. Phase one was accomplished and phase two and three seemed to be happening simultaneously. My original thought was that I would go on to college and meet my future husband there. I would graduate, and then get married. Yet, here I was, moving in with Jarmie before I had even registered for college.
He was smart and funny. He enjoyed racing, playing cards, and watching movies. He drank socially but didn't do drugs. He loved to shop. He owned a house and car at the age of 23 and best of all, he was ready to cater to my every whim.
So I moved in with him.
He never finished high school. He didn't enjoy poetry, and literature. He did drugs behind my back and then lied to me while he was high. He spent the bill money on stuff we didn't need. He was irresponsible with his jobs. He dodged paying child support and lied about it to me. He owned the house because his parents had been killed and had left him an inheritance and worst of all, he was angry inside.
My year and a half with Jarmie was something unexplainable. Sometimes things would be ok, and on rare occasions, wonderful. But the fighting. God, the fighting. Yelling, screaming, stomping, crying, clawing, biting, pushing, bruising, put downs, throwing objects and the look. Those ice cold blue eyes that had been drained of what little love had been in them haunted me. And yet, I stayed.
I don't give up, I don't give up, I don't give up.
I give up.
I'm a failure.
Two years it took me to understand myself. Understand what I want in my life. Understand what I need in my life, and to be honest and not feel like a failure if I decide to move on and look elsewhere. A year and a half of my life. Spent with Jarmie. But lessons and knowledge to last a lifetime.
Most of the time, I'm ok. My knowledge follows me wherever I go, and the painful memories fade away.
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