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Life Story – It Was Decision Day And A Chapter Of My Life Was Ending..

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Life Story

 

After a few hours of restless sleep I awoke at 5:00 a.m., quickly got dressed, packed my suitcase and drove to Becky’s house for our early morning rendezvous.

The sun was barely cresting over the mountains, the hills were covered with new snow from the night before, but I couldn’t enjoy the beautiful sight because all I wanted was to get Becky in the car and speed away with her as quick as possible and start our life story together.

I couldn’t wait to get Becky away from her parents and back home to San Diego with me, where we would finally begin our life together.

A good job, a small house, nice car and a solid life waiting for us when we got back but most of all I was prepared to take up the responsibilities in front of me and be a husband and a real man.

By 6:00 a.m I arrived at her house, parked the car up the street, and waited for her to come out just as we had planned.

After waiting ten minutes she didn’t come out to the car and I began to worry.

6:30 a.m: I noticed the lights come on in her parent’s bedroom and I knew that they were getting up to shower, and prepare for work. By 6:45 a.m. as I sat in my car I watched through the kitchen window as her father walked into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table to eat his morning breakfast.

As soon as I saw her father come into the kitchen I ducked down in the seat of the car because her father would flip out if he saw me and call the police.

7:00 a.m: I was growing more depressed by the minute as I realized that Becky wasn’t coming so I started the car and prepared to drive away, never to see her again when the side door to her garage opened and Becky quickly came outside, carrying a large, green carry on bag. She quickly walked up the street with grace, got inside and we left.

Success! I was thrilled as we sped away from her house, and away from the prison of her parent’s home. Becky and I traded kisses and held each other as we speeded down the country roads. She looked at the odometer and said, “You better slow down because there’s cops out everywhere along these roads.”

“I know,” I said, laughing.

The further away Becky and I got from her parents, the more we relaxed and began to talk about the events of the last few months and everything we had been through.

We discussed how we wanted to make the relationship work and were going to do everything we could to stay together.

“I love you and I’m so sorry for everything,” Becky kept saying.

 “There was nothing to be sorry for. Everything that we’ve been through over the last two months is history and the most important thing is that we’re finally together!” I said

Now that we were finally together I felt like we could finally move on with our lives. Or would this be the end of our life story?

Emotionally, I was still on edge and wondered if we would get back to the airport together and end up back in San Diego together. So many things had gone wrong over the previous few months despite my efforts to make our relationship work.

As we got closer to the airport in Washington, Becky and I stopped looking over our shoulders for any sign of her parents coming after us and started to relax. We eventually arrived at the airport a few hours later, turned in the rental car, and promptly got in line to wait to board the plane.

Everything was working out perfect and, while we waited, I decided to call my parents and tell them the good news. They were elated. They couldn’t believe that everything had worked out exactly like I had planned and hoped it would.


My parents told me that they told all of our friends and family about my journey and that everyone was praying for Becky and me, anxiously awaiting our arrival home and eager for us to begin our life story together in the warm Southern California sunshine. 

At about 1 p.m. we boarded the plane that would take us back to Portland, Oregon, where we would wait until 3:30 p.m. and board a commercial airliner that would take us back home to San Diego. As we boarded the small plane Becky began to shake and started to cry.

I asked her what was wrong, but she wouldn’t say a word to me. In actuality I knew why she was crying and I that I could get her on the plane and home to San Diego before she could change her mind again and ruin our plans.

Once everyone was on the plane, it departed without delay soon flying over snow-covered fields and mountains on our way back to Portland. Oregon really was a beautiful state, covered with miles of countryside that would make any artist like me go crazy with the desire to paint it. I didn’t have time to stop and enjoy it, though, because the last phase of my plan awaited us.

We arrived in Portland by 3:00 p.m., entered the airport terminal and went looking for our final flight. When we found the commercial jet plane I handed over our tickets and we boarded. I breathed easy and sat down with Becky, dreaming of what it would finally be like when we could be alone together, that night, as husband and wife.

As we sat on the plane, waiting for it to take off, I told Becky of the home I had made for us, and everything I had done to prepare for her arrival but it was evident that she wasn’t hearing a word I was saying. I looked into her eyes and knew that emotionally, she was still home in Lostine, worrying about what her parents were saying about her and doing at that very moment.

Sadly, Becky was still a scared little girl, afraid to venture out on her own without her parent’s approval.

Even though she was 21 years old and legally considered an adult, she was still a child on the inside and I couldn’t reach her…

As we approached 3:30 pm, the flight attendants on the plane readied the passengers for takeoff by putting away their bags and serving peanuts. That’s when Becky told me that she was going to the restroom, abruptly got up and rushed towards the exit. I unbuckled my belt and went after her. She wasn’t heading for the restroom, the door of the plane still ajar, and she was running for it.

“Becky! Where are you going? The plane is about to take off!” I shouted.

She kept running and made it through the door as it was closing and I squeezed through and continued running after her as she raced up the tunnel back to the airport terminal. Once we were back in the airport terminal she stopped running and when I caught up with her she was shaking and crying.

“Becky? What is it?” I asked

“I shouldn’t be doing this!” She said.

“We broke my parent’s rules and demands, God’s laws and will got to Hell for it!” She sobbed, not realizing that this wasn’t supposed to be the end of our life story, but the beginning….

The plane took off without us, there was no way we were going to make that flight and my plans were stopped again, by her. She didn’t want to be on that plane and had bailed on me at the very last second. What else could I do? Give up? Go home and leave her there?

After fighting so hard to make our relationship work since we had been together only to have our plans fall flat time and again by circumstances out of our control or by other people and this time she was the one keeping us apart.

I grabbed Becky’s hand and walked over to the airline counter to exchange our tickets for a flight later in the afternoon and once our next flight was confirmed I was determined to spend the next few hours trying to talk her out of giving up on our relationship once again. I tried every tactic I could think to convince her to stay with me but she didn’t want my love or comfort, and only desired to rejoin her family.

Over the previous months since her father had broken us up and exercised his controlling ways on her I quickly realized that Becky was deeply mentally and emotionally abused by her father and didn’t have and strength of her own to defy him.

Once we were together in Oregon and finally on the plane back to San Diego that I imagined that her father’s emotional grip would be broken and she would willing leave with me but her fathers grip could not be broken and she was running back to him once again.


We found a secluded bench in the airport terminal and for the next two hours I did everything in my power to try and build her up again emotionally so she would board the plane with me again to go to San Diego but in spite of my pleadings it was like there was an emotional “brick wall,” between us and she wasn’t accepting anything that I said. I didn’t understand how she left with me so willingly that morning only to leave me on the plane and walk out on me again, that afternoon.

Finally out of frustration I said, “Becky, you’re killing me, don’t you know that you’re driving me insane?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she pleaded with me.

“Why did you lead me along over the last two months and make me think that you wanted me to come and get you?” I asked.

The longer I sat there on that bench with her, trying to break into her “emotional Hell,” and convince her to come with me, and begin our life story together, I felt like I was slipping into her abyss of confused thoughts and knew that if we weren’t on that next plane to San Diego I would stay with her in Oregon rather than leave her again.

Becky knew that if she didn’t leave with me her only option was to go home to her parents and face her punishment for defying them for the second time in her life, but in spite of the punishment that lay in store for her she desired to rejoin them once again.

“Becky, you don’t have to go back! Your parent’s don’t own you!” I said to her.

“I shouldn’t have defied them, we never should have gotten married and did what we did today,” she said.

Her mind was made up, and she was going to walk out on me again. I was blown away by what she was doing to me and just sat there feeling dead inside.

Finally, by 5:00 p.m. the next plane was ready for departure, so I got up and headed over to the gate to board the plane that would take me, and only me, home. Becky walked behind me silently knowing the fate that awaited her and also knowing that she would never see me again. When I got to the ramp I turned around, grabbed her arm, and pleaded with her to come with me.

 “Becky don’t do this!” Doesn’t our love mean anything to you?” I desperately asked.

“Your parents don’t love you and will only make your life a living Hell when they get you back.” I said.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” She sobbed.

I continued to pull her with me to the ramp but she kept sobbing and shaking her head, “No” as travelers around us watched the scene we were creating.

Becky was like a prisoner who wanted to go back to the “hole” and serve more punishment. I was offering her freedom and the chance for a normal life and she didn’t want it.

Before I boarded the plane, I turned to her one last time and held her tightly, knowing that I would never see her again.

This was the last time I could hold her in my arms, caress her beautiful face, smell her long dark hair and look into those bottomless brown eyes.

“You’re breaking my heart,” I cried.

“I’m so sorry!” Becky said sobbing.

“I thought you loved me, I thought you wanted us to be together! That’s why I’m here Becky; it’s my love for you that brought me here! Don’t you get that?” I asked.

“I can’t go with you.” She said.

“Becky, if it takes my entire life I’ll never understand you and I’ll never stop loving you.” I said.

Just before the boarding door closed I grabbed her again, passionately kissed her, and let her go.

“I’ll never forget you,” I said as I walked through the door.

We were so close to being together but in reality, we never had been so far apart. Our life story began and ended in that hotel room on our wedding day.

My journey was a failure, she walked out on me again and I was going home a broken man. I felt more tired and more beaten up than ever before. And at 24 years old, I felt like a tired, old man.

Our short relationship brought nothing but heartache and pain. And now I wanted to lie down and die because I didn’t know if I would ever get over her, and I couldn’t understand the depth of mental and emotional abuse by her father that drove her to leave me for the last time and go back to her family.

Over the next few months I would mourn her absence and deal with the deadness that she had left inside of me.

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The chess match

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Monday came quickly like any other Monday except on this one, my friends at work were shocked to see me back so soon when I was still supposed to be on my honeymoon with my wife. They were even more shocked when I began to tell my tale of what happened over the weekend and the disaster my wedding day brought.

Everyone comforted me that day, and once I told them the complete story, nobody brought up what happened to me again because they to repeat it again and again would be like driving a knife into an open bloody wound. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through the day and considered going home sick when my phone rang. I answered it with robotic precision and the voice on the other end made my blood begin to boil.

It was Becky’s mother, the only woman in the world that I didn’t want to talk with at that moment.

“Is this Jeremy?” She asked in her gruff, manly voice.

“Yes,” I said, holding back my temper.

“Jeremy, Becky and I are at the courthouse right now and you have two choices. One, you can take the easy way out and annul the marriage or take the hard way and get a divorce. What’s it going to be? The clerk is waiting.” Her Mother asked.

“Where the hell do you get off calling me after what you and your husband did to Becky and me?” I exclaimed.

“I thought that you would say that. I knew that Fred was right about you,” she said in a sinister tone.

“You listen to me, you evil bitch. There isn’t going be an easy or hard way because I’m going to do things when I’m good and ready. You got that?” I yelled into the phone.

Becky’s mother continued to breathe hard into the phone like she was out of breath, I knew that she was pissed off and trying to think of what to say next.

“Is Becky there?” I asked.

“She doesn’t want to speak with you,” She said sadistically.

“Put her on the phone now!” I demanded.

I wasn’t mad at Becky. In my heart, I still loved her and if she was really there, all I wanted was to talk with her again to try and make some sense of the situation. I was madder than hell at her parents and had spent the last few days thinking of ways I could get back at them within lawful limitations. I heard her mother pass the phone to Becky.

“Hello??” she said.

“Becky, its Jeremy. I’m not going to pretend that in a million years, I will ever understand you or why we are in this situation. I don’t know what’s going on inside your head or what your parents did to you growing up to make you turn out like this. All I know Becky is that I love you and part of me will never stop loving you. I want you, not your mother, to tell me it’s over. Tell me what option to take and I’ll take it. Tell me to go away and you will never see me again.” I said.

There was strict silence for a few seconds, then she said; “We have to do what they want.”

“Becky, we don’t have to do anything they want!”

“You and I are adults and if you want me to fight for you, I’ll be at your house tonight with the police to get you out of that house. Or do you want me to go away?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

“Do you want me to fight for you?” I asked.

“We have to do what they want,” she said again and again, like someone had drugged her.

“Do you want me to fight for you? Yes or no?” I asked.

“Yes,” She replied.

Just after she said yes, her mother grabbed the phone from her and said; “Alright, Jeremy, what’s it going to be?”

“You listen to me, you evil bitch. Until Becky tells me to my face that our marriage is over, nobody is going to force us to do anything!”

“You better be damn well-prepared because there’s going to be Hell to pay for what you and your husband are doing!” I yelled.

“You son of a bitch!” She demonically exclaimed right before she hung up the phone.

After she hung up, I spent the next few minutes shaking. When I finally calmed down, I called my mom and told her what happened. Once again my mom was blown away that anyone like Fred and his wife could masquerade as God-fearing Christians while underneath the façade, they were wicked.

As we talked, she thought of her friend, DJ whose husband Steve, a local attorney and had given our family free legal advice in the past.

“You should call Steve. He’s helped us out a lot in the past few years and I’m sure he can give you a lot of advice about your situation,” she said.

She gave me his number and after we wrapped up our call, I phoned Steve and replayed with him all of the details from what happened on the wedding day to my phone conversation with Becky and her mother.

 After I finished my story, Steve rolled out an arsenal of ideas for me.

“You should call the police and ask them to do a welfare check because she’s your wife and they are holding her against her will so you can tell the police that you’re concerned she’s been kidnapped by her parents.”

After his suggestion and a few others, I called the police and told a dispatcher that I believed my wife’s parents kidnapped her and were holding her against her will.

They asked me what kind of proof I had for this and they transferred me from department to department until they finally found the right dispatcher that told me I was talking to the wrong police department and that I should call the police in Becky’s area.

After taking some more time to cool down emotionally, I called the East County police department. Eventually I reached a dispatcher, Wanda who asked me about the situation and I launched into my story and told her all of the details.

“Damn, Child, she sure screwed you over didn’t she??” Wanda said.

“Why does a nice, young man like you want to go back to a woman like that?” She asked.

“Because I still love her and feel that her parents are holding her against her will at their home,” I said.

“Honey, you should just give up and realize that you got lucky by this happening when it did. You could have been married for one year before she run back to her parents with your child. Then you would have been really screwed.”

“I have to save her; I have to try,” I said.

“Okay but you realize that if she don’t want to see you again, then it’s over right?” Wanda asked.

“I do,” I said.

“Alright then, I will schedule a welfare check tonight. One of our officers will call you this afternoon and want you to meet him somewhere close by before you go to their house.” She said.

She took down all of my information and told me that everything was set up for the police to visit Becky’s home tonight.

“Will this work?” I wondered to myself.


 

“Will the police get her out of the house, away from her parents, to talk to her about what’s going on?”

I didn’t know what to expect. Once again I was treading into unfamiliar territory, but this time, I had the advantage. If Becky could get away from her parents long enough to speak with the police officers, she could tell them how she really felt and they would free her from her, “prison”. I felt like I was playing a championship game of chess and was nervous as I pondered how the next move would play out.

In a few hours, I would try to bring Becky and me together once again, and I had no idea what would come of my efforts.

If my plan worked I was prepared to do anything to keep her, even drive hundreds of miles away to my Aunt Susie’s house to run away from her parents and keep Becky safe until her family was out of California for good.

By 4 p.m. I received a phone call from an Officer Ryan, who instructed me to meet him over at the 7-11 near Becky’s house by 6 p.m. to prepare before departed for the welfare check. After I got the call, I raced over to the 7-11, leaving my parents behind wondering if I lost my mind once again and was getting into more trouble.

Once I arrived at the 7-11 I waited there for what seemed like forever until a black and white police car finally pulled up next to my car and I got out to greet the police officers.

“Jeremy?” A huge police officer called out.

“That’s me,” I answered.

“I’m Officer Ryan. This is my partner, Officer Bolton.” He said pointing to his partner who nodded in my direction.

Out of habit, I looked at officer Bolton’s name tag and noticed that it said M. Bolton.

“Michael Bolton?” I asked, looking at the officer.

Officer Bolton looked pissed off.

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

“He gets teased all the time about his name back at the station,” Officer Ryan said.

After the humorous moment, the conversation turned serious when Officer Ryan asked me why I thought my wife was in danger. And then he briefed me on what they planned to do when the got to Becky’s house. After we agreed on the plan, they made me promise that I would stay by my car so that her parents wouldn’t know that I was on the street watching the situation go down.

“It’s for your own safety,” they said.

I agreed then we all got into our cars and they followed me over to Becky’s house. I parked the car behind a looming oak tree two houses down from her parent’s house and got out of my car to watch the officers approach pull into the driveway in front of her house, after calmly exiting the vehicle the proceeded to walk over to the front door. Officer Bolton knocked for a minute on the door when Fred came out to speak with the officers.

Becky’s house had a small porch that was secured by bars and a metal gate. Fred stepped outside his door and made no effort to come close to the gate or even open it.

The police officers talked to Fred for minutes until finally he went back inside and Becky came out to speak with the officers. I wanted to run to Becky and tell her that I was there but decided to do what the police officers said and stay away. The officers talked with Becky for a few minutes, occasionally motioning for her to come out from behind Fred’s security gate but she wouldn’t do it.

They didn’t even bother to get her away from Fred’s house and I knew that Fred was standing behind the front door, like a menacing jailor, listening to her every word.

Their conversation was over before it even began.

After only two minutes Becky smiled at the police officers like she was okay, went back inside her house, closed the door and as soon as she had come was gone. I stood there dumbfounded.

They were supposed to conduct a welfare check but they didn’t even get close enough to her or get her away from her parents to see if she was really safe. Once the conversation was over, the police officers got back into their car, pulled up the street in front of my car and we walked back to the large oak tree to discuss everything that she had said.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“She told us that she was fine, wanted to be there, wasn’t in any harm, and asked us to please leave,” Officer Ryan said.

“Why didn’t you ask her to step off her porch, away from her house?” I asked.

“Because she didn’t want to and preferred to stay where she was,” Officer Ryan repeated.

“Her father on the other hand, couldn’t stop complaining about you,” Bolton said.

“What’d he say?” I asked, acting like I didn’t know what was coming next.

“He said that you kidnapped his daughter and forced her to marry you over the weekend and that you threatened his family because they tried to stop you,” Bolton said.

I was blown away. I didn’t even think Fred could stoop that low in his lies but he finally did.

“He also said that if you ever step foot on their property again, they are going to press charges,” officer Ryan repeated.

I felt like a vindictive hoodlum kicked me in the ribs and I couldn’t catch my breath. I didn’t have any enemies, yet Fred hated my guts and for what? Because I loved his daughter and didn’t want him to treat me like a slave for the rest of my life? That bastard.

“Listen, Buddy I met the father and from talking to him for that short period of time, I can see what kind of person he really is, so I understand what you’re going through and I’m going to give you only two pieces of advice. One, stay away from that house, because if you go back there, it’s only going to mean trouble for you and two, give up on her because as you saw tonight, she doesn’t want to return to you and that should be enough to tell you that chapter in your life is closes,” officer Bolton said.

I stood there staring at Becky’s house, trying to comprehend it all.

“Got it?” Bolton asked looking at me with a stern look on his face.

“Got it,” I said, feeling defeated once again.

“Come on partner let’s get out of here and go arrest some hookers on El Cajon Boulevard,” Officer Ryan said, looking over at Bolton with a grin on his face.

I thanked them and walked over to my car, feeling like the story was over. I didn’t feel depressed or crazy like I did on my wedding day. I only felt sad that I had taken it this far and yet we still were not together. I had to play it out to see what might happen. Over just a few weeks, I endured the emotional fight of my life and having done so, naturally I felt like a wasted man.

I slumped down to the ground, wanting to lie there, next to my car all night, without caring if I got hit by another car or not.

Where was Ernest Hemmingway when I really needed him? I needed someone like him to unload all of my sorrows to after a few stiff drinks and then be told that I would recover from this loss. I needed a Kung Fu master to come out from the shadows and convey some philosophical solution, comforting me with promises of clarity.

I sat there feeling sorry for myself for a few more minutes when I finally had enough energy to get back into my car and go home. Tomorrow was another day. I’d wake up and start breathing again, trying to forget her. I’d never forgive her parents for what they did to us or quit loving her at least not for a long time. But I knew that with each day we were apart it’d get easier and I’d begin to live a little more each day.

 Later that night, after I got home and told the latest part of my story to my parents, they comforted me once again and asked me to give up and move on with my life.

“You gave it your best shot, Son. That’s something that any man would do,” dad said.

“I hate what this is doing to you, Honey, so please give up and let her go,” mom respectfully requested.

I promised that our relationship was over and that they could rest easy in knowing that I wouldn’t try to go after her again.

“Good, because there’s always plenty of fish in the sea,” My dad said.

What did that mean though?

Do we get multiple opportunities in life to find the right person to spend our lives with, or is it a one-shot deal and everyone we meet after that is a pile of crumbs left over from the cake?

Before I went to bed I wrote this poem.

It’s over

My heart is sad.

I fee like I’ve drowned in a flood and don’t know that I’m dead.

With all the love I have to give and gave her how come she didn’t let me into her life one more time to save her?

I’m tired of fighting this battle!

When will it end?

For to long now I’ve fought this unseen battle against a man that I thought was once my friend.

Good, evil, hell, disaster why can’t a simple word like love be the answer?

I didn’t ask or want to get caught up in this fight.

I didn’t want to get caught up in this strife.

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I almost lose my mind

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justice of the peace

It was time.

I looked over at Becky, she smiled as I grabbed her hand, and we walked over to the room where the wedding ceremony would be performed.

My parents, sister her son and my grandma followed with their cameras ready to witness the moment.

As we stood in the room, I looked over at my family and was blown away by their love and support, I wouldn’t have been able to follow through and stand firm on my commitment to marry Becky without the support of my family.

I looked over at Becky and melted in her beautiful brown eyes and imagined what it would be like later that night when we could finally share our passion a husband and wife.

“Are you ready?” The justice of the peace inquired.

“Yes,” we said in unison.

As we faced each other delivering our vows and promises to each other, life seemed perfect.

I felt harmoniously content at that moment. I had found the woman I loved and was going to face the future with my soul-mate by my side.

Before I knew it, the ceremony was over and the justice of the peace said, “You may kiss the bride.”

Becky and I smiled right before we shared the longest kiss that we had ever had with each other.

No more looking over our shoulders.

No more hiding our relationship in fear that her father would find out and break us up.

It was real. We were married and it finally seemed like our relationship was meant to be. My parents were thrilled and took a whole lot of pictures. Becky and I hugged everyone in my family and we went out to celebrate. My parents didn’t want us to leave us right away and decided that they wanted to take us out to breakfast at the nearest Denny’s that was right up the street.

We got in my car and followed my parents to Denny’s for breakfast.

I kept replaying the wedding ceremony in my mind and I felt like shouting gleefully from the top of a mountain top because it was the best day of my life. I was so excited that I wanted the honeymoon to start immediately but didn’t get the same impression from Becky. She looked like she had just attended her parent’s funeral. She wasn’t saying a word.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” I asked.

She looked at me and burst into tears.

“What is it?” I asked.

She wouldn’t tell me what was going on.

“Aren’t you happy?” I asked.

“Yes,” She replied.

“Then what’s wrong?” I asked.

“My parents. I was just thinking about them again.”

“This is not how I imagined my wedding day to be, I always thought that they would be there by my side.:

“Becky, I love you. And I swear that I will do whatever it takes to fix my relationship with your father and get him to accept our relationship.” I vowed.

“Once I fix my relationship with your parents they will have to accept us as husband and wife. Then we can get married again in a church ceremony like you always wanted.”

“Isn’t that what you want? Because I swear that I will do everything in my power to make that happen.”

“Yes that’s what I really want,” She said.

“Then once our honeymoon is over, I will work hard to make that happen. But today let’s just focus on what just happened ok?”

I grabbed her hand and held both of out hands up to let the sun reflect off of our wedding bands.

“Becky, were married!” I said with excitement.

“Something that we thought would never happen a few weeks ago did happen, and there’s nothing anyone can do to take that away from us!”

She smiled, leaned over, grabbed me, and started to kiss me like we did before her father had broken us up.

“Are you lovebirds coming?” My Dad asked as he walked passed my car with the family as they walked into the restaurant.

“Be right there, Dad,” I said smiling, as everyone walked passed us, talking excitedly about the ceremony and what we had just gone through.

Being able to hold Becky felt wonderful after having been away from her for so long. We finally went inside and had a big breakfast with the family, talking excitedly with my parents, sister and Grandma about the future, what our plans were and of course, the honeymoon.

Breakfast was over before I knew it and as walked out of the restaurant; my dad pulled me aside, looked me in the eyes, and said. “I’m proud of you son. You stood up like a man, kept your word and now you two are finally married. Congratulations!” He said as he bear-hugged me.

I told my dad that I loved him and couldn’t thank him or my Mom enough for their love and support during the last year.

As I walked away, my dad handed me an envelope and said, “Here, you’re going to need this.”

I looked inside and saw hundred dollar bills.

“It’s for the honeymoon,” he stated.

After Becky and I hugged and kissed everyone again, we waved goodbye to everyone and they got into my parent’s car and drove away.

I looked over at Becky and said, “Are you ready?”

She smiled, and we ran for my car to hit the road for our honeymoon which was only 15 miles up the highway in a little town called Cardiff by the Sea.

Driving up the highway to our hotel, we talked actively about the night-to-come when we could consummate our relationship. She told me that she had bought something special for the big night, which only increased my sexual expectations.

I knew that before her father broke us up, she had been avidly reading sex books that she picked up from the public library, so that she would be prepared for our wedding night. Her parents never knew what she was reading, and every time they passed her room all they saw was her knitting a new blanket for one of her siblings or writing a letter when she was secretly preparing herself for our night we had looked forward to for so many months.

We finally got to the hotel and checked into our room.

Once we were inside, I closed the door and led her over the bed.

I didn’t want to wait for nightfall and I playfully pushed her on the bed and began to take off her clothes when she started saying, “wait, wait, wait.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“We need to call my parents,” she said.

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“Why now?” I asked.

“Because it’s the right thing to do and I just want to get it over with,” she said.

With hesitation, I agreed and told her to hand me the phone.

I should have ripped the phone line out of the wall, threw the phone in the trashcan and made love with her right there but I wanted to do the right thing, the honorable thing and try to settle the problem with her parents.

She dialed the number, it rang, and then the unmistakable gruff voice of her mother answered.

“Hello?” Said the gruff voice on the other end of the line.

“It’s Jeremy, can I speak with Fred?”

“Where’s Becky? What have you done with her?” She asked this like I had kidnapped and murdered her daughter.

“Becky and I just got married,” I said.

“You what?” She screamed.

The phone slammed down and Fred picked up the line.

“Hi Fred, it’s Jeremy. We need to talk.” I said.

“I will only talk to Becky,” He replied.

“Fred, talk to me, it’s time that we work out our differences and talk about what happened, because Becky and I are married now.” I said.

“Listen to me you punk. Get my daughter on the line right now.” He said.

I looked over at Becky, rolled my eyes and said, “He wants to talk to you.”

Becky grabbed the phone from my hand and with a childish voice said, “Daddy?”

For the next few minutes, she sat there listening to her father shouting from the other end of the line. I tried to grab the phone out of her hand, but she turned away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Becky kept saying as the looming voice continued verbally attacking her.

I kept hearing the words, “evil,” “wicked,” “abomination” and I knew that Fred was only talking about me. All my life I tried to do good to my fellow man and be a good person and Fred was putting me in the same category of criminals and murders.

I motioned to Becky to hang up the phone, but she wouldn’t do it, it seemed like she was shell shocked as she sat there and continued to take the verbal abuse until I finally grabbed the phone from her hand and hung it up for her. She started sobbing harder than I had ever seen her cry before. I held her close and tried to comfort her.

“Becky, it’s going to be okay. We have to give them time and eventually they will accept us together.” I said.

Becky kept shaking her head no and she finally said, “I have to go back.”

“What??” I exclaimed.

“We shouldn’t have gotten married. We made a mistake and should have never continued our relationship. They were right and we were wrong.” She said.

I felt like I had gotten hit by a semi truck, the familiar feelings of pain, that I has known to well after Fred first broke us up suddenly came rushing back. This was supposed to be a happy day!

We were finally married and she was ready to back out after a few hours? After everything we had gone through to finally come together, she was backing out now? The ink wasn’t even dry on our marriage certificate and it was already over?

For the next few minutes, I tried everything I could, pleading with her and stating my case as to why we should stay together. But what I was saying wasn’t working.

She kept shaking her head saying, “No, no, no.”

I got up and paced the room, looking for a mini-bar because I really needed a drink but I found nothing.

“Becky, I kept my word, followed through on my promise to marry you and went the extra mile to bring us together, and now you’re getting cold feet?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” She kept pleading.

I should have thrown her on the bed like in the movies, ripped her clothes off her and said, “Well, it’s too late to back out now!” But instead, I kept trying to get through to her. She wasn’t listening.

 “I need some time to think,” She said.

“What’s to think about?” I replied.

“I need some time to think, alone.” She said.

I got up from the chair, grabbed my coat, and said, “I don’t know what to say,

“I’m going for a walk and when I get back, your mind better be made up, because I can’t take this any longer,” I said.

I slammed the door shut on my way out, leaving her inside.

I didn’t get in my car and drive away. Instead, I started to walk to the beach, hoping that by the time I got back, she would be all-right. And we could be happy again.

I felt weak; like I was walking around in a bad dream, unable to wake up. Why was she doing this to me?

“Fred has brainwashed Becky and her entire family. Are you sure that you really want to marry her? Because you wont know how messed up mentally she is until you’re living with her.” My dad’s words kept replaying in my mind.

I didn’t want to admit it to myself that she was brainwashed, until that moment, I didn’t realize how brain washed she was.

I couldn’t get her to listen, I desperately tried to get her to see things rationally and realize that she didn’t have to go back to her father and take the mental and verbal abuse that awaited her, but she didn’t see it.

I kept walking, trying to think of things to say that would make her see the truth and stop thinking that she had to go back to her father but I was overwhelmed, exhausted and my mind needed a break.

Once I finally got to the beach, I sat next to a lifeguard tower and tried to come up with a plan for how I would handle the situation if she did try to leave me.

I didn’t know what to do, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, we weren’t supposed to be going through this on our wedding day, and we were supposed to be happy.

I looked at my watch, realized that almost an hour had passed by, and decided to walk back to the hotel. I started my walk back, stopping at a flower shop to buy her a bouquet of roses, thinking it might cheer her up. Once I got back to the hotel, I realized that something was wrong when I saw her putting her bags into a yellow cab parked in front of our room. I ran over to the cab and tried to pull her back into the room.

“Becky, don’t go!”

“I love you. Doesn’t that mean anything?” I desperately asked.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she kept saying behind her tears.

“Poppa said that if I come back now, they would act the marriage, never happened.”

I was flabbergasted.

“But what about us? What about our marriage? Don’t you care about that?” I exclaimed.

Taxi Cabs

The cab driver sat in the front seat of his car, reading his newspaper, acting like he couldn’t hear a word.

“Please, Becky, don’t do this! Don’t ruin our marriage. Don’t let your father ruin our happiness!” I pleaded.

“You don’t understand, if we leave and try to start a life together he will find us, it’s never going to work. I’m so sorry, Jeremy,” she said.

I didn’t know what to do, or say, other than cry.

“I’m so sorry,” She sobbed.

“Why did you lead me along like this?” I asked.

“Has Daddy prevented you from having relationships with other guys? Becky, I don’t understand the power that your father has over you!” I said.

“Don’t say that!” She burst.

At long last I realized that even the best psychologist couldn’t get through to her. Our relationship, and marriage, was over before it even began.

I let her hand go and said, “Go”.

“I’ll always love you,” she said as she got into the car.

“Becky, you don’t know what love is, I never want to see you again.” I said.

I returned to the hotel room and slammed the door.

I heard the cab drive off with Becky in it and I didn’t know what I was going to do. I looked around the room and saw our wedding bouquet of flowers on the nightstand and threw it to the floor. What was I going to do?

My family had gone for a drive to the mountains after the marriage ceremony, so I couldn’t call them. I was miles away from home. I didn’t know anyone in the area. For the first time in my life I felt like killing myself. I was sad, depressed and angry. I was tired of the struggle, tired of the pain, upset that she dragged me through the gutter and I just wanted it to end. I grabbed my suitcase and headed out to my car.

I looked down the street for the nearest bar and couldn’t see anything for miles but shabby little motels, dinners, shops and sandy white beach.

So I got into my car and headed for the freeway and thought, “I can drive my car into oncoming traffic or off a bridge and nobody would care.”

“My marriage is over,” I kept saying over and over again in my head.

She ripped my heart out and I wanted the pain to stop.”

As I stepped on the gas pedal I thought of my family and the life I had before I met Becky and knew I needed to get home.

I continued to drive, reliving the day’s events and the depression kept pounding back into my head, “It’s over; I can’t believe that it’s really over.”

If I hadn’t had a home to go back to or a family that day, I would be dead today. I would have driven my car off of a bridge because she wholly destroyed me, leaving wounds that would take years to heal. Going home saved my life.

I didn’t know how I got there that day or how fast I drove on the freeway because the pain was too heavy to bear. Once I made it home, I staggered up to my house. I felt like I had just drunk 12 beers. The world seemed incomprehensively upside down to me. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had just married the woman I loved a few hours ago and before we had time to consummate the relationship we were already separated. She was at her home getting interrogated by her parents while I was at my home wallowing in my misery.

I called my old friend Robin, and after I told him the entire story, he sympathized with me and said that he tried to tell me from the beginning that my relationship wouldn’t work out. But I wouldn’t listen to him.

I apologized and as we said our goodbyes to my friend and when my family finally got home they were shocked to see me sitting on the couch, still in the suit I was wearing a few hours before.

“What happened? Where’s Becky?” They asked.

I spent the next few minutes retelling my story as they sat there, with shocked looks on their faces.

“Fred must have some evil kind of control on his daughter,” dad said.

“I never thought he would still have that kind of control over her once you two were married, that S.O.B doesn’t have a heart.” mom said.

“I hope he gets what’s coming to him,” grandma said.

“Even though it hurts right now, honey, don’t give up on love. You weren’t meant to be with Becky, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t find someone again more apt to share your life with,” mom said.

I couldn’t think or talk. I just sat there, stunned, shocked, and sad. I wanted to cry but couldn’t let the emotions out yet when finally they came and my family comforted me.

That night after a few beers and some phone calls from friend’s who had heard what happened, I eagerly headed to bed, to try and forget.

In bed I thought about what would happen on Monday, “Work 8 a.m. and later I would go to the courthouse 11 a.m. to get an annulment. It’s finished She’s gone and it’s time to move on.” I said

In a few days, her family would move to Oregon, and I would never see her again. Or so I thought.

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The plan comes together

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Friday morning came sooner than I anticipated and once again, I found myself driving to her house in the early morning hours. Except this time I was really going to see her again.

I made it to her neighborhood and parked far up the street, out of sight from traffic. I prayed that nobody in her family knew that we were meeting. I waited for what seemed like hours, but of course, it had only been minutes when a knock on my car door jolted me awake. I realized that she was here.

I opened the door and she got in.

We wrapped our arms around each other, and kissed intensely for minutes, then started to talk.

“My parents are ready to move,” She said.

“When?” I asked.

“In a few weeks, they are planning on moving the entire family just before Christmas. My father can’t wait to get out of California. All he talks about every day is how you betrayed him and how the church turned its back on him.” She said.

I was sick of hearing about Fred. I had tried to contact him for over two weeks via e-mail, letter, fax and telephone but he had completely shut me out, refusing to talk to me.

“What about you, Becky? What do you want?” I asked.

“I want to be with you. But I don’t want to disappoint my parents or leave my little sister.” She said.

“Becky, there comes a time in life when you have to fight for what you believe in, do you love me?” I asked.

“Yes, with all of my heart,” She replied.

“Then let’s not waste any time; let’s get married,” I said.

“You mean elope?” She asked.

“Why not?” I said.

“My family will be so disappointed when they eventually find out,” she said.

I laughed and said, “Becky, they don’t give a damn about you. All you are is free labor and childcare to them! Just look at what your fathers done to you! To us,” I said.

“She looked down, and said, “I know, I know.”


 

“It’s just that this isn’t how it was supposed to be,” She regretfully noted.

“I was supposed to get married by my father in the church, in my wedding dress, with my family standing by, and now we have to sneak away to do it,” She said mournfully.

“Becky, at least we will be together!”  If we don’t elope soon, you’re family will be gone in a few weeks and I will never see you again and our relationship will really be over.” I said.

“Do you want that?” I asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Then let’s get married. If your family is leaving soon, then lets get married next week.” I said.

We looked at each other for a few seconds, registering what I had just said. We were actually solidifying plans.

“Okay,” she said.

“Are you really sure this is what you want?” I asked.

“Yes, I love you with all of my heart and want to be your wife.” she said.

We settled on the November 3rd 2000 as the wedding day because it would be a Friday and we would have the entire weekend to spend on our honeymoon.

“I’ll meet you in front of your house at five in the morning, be prepared, you will need to have your bags packed and ready because after we’re married, you’re not coming back here.” I said.

“Jeremy, we should get married at a justice of the peace, far away because I guarantee that once they realize that I’m gone they will call every courthouse and justice of the peace in the city looking for me.”

 “Becky, don’t worry. I’ll find a justice of the peace so far away that they will never be able to find us,” I said.

We looked at each other hungrily, knowing what we both wanted, unable to satisfy our hunger for each other because our time was precious and someone from her family could come looking for her, any second.

We kissed for a few seconds, and then she pushed me away and said, “I better go.”

“I’ll see you on November 3rd at 5 a.m. in front of your house,” I said.

“If any of your plans change, write me a letter and I’ll get it from our secret spot,” I said.

She caressed my face for a second and said, “Don’t worry, I will be there.”

We kissed again and she vanished out of my car, and was gone.

It was going to happen. Our marriage wasn’t a far off event anymore. We were going to marry in the next two weeks, and be together as husband and wife. Would our plans work out? I would soon find out.

Over the next two weeks, I lived in a dreamlike state because we continued our letter exchange routine in the early morning hours, in front of her house. In writing each other, we planned out the wedding details, like the justice of the peace, time of the ceremony, honeymoon destination and, most dauntingly, the call to her parents after we were officially married.

My parents told me that until I could get my own apartment, we could live with them in their house. So they spent the next two weeks buying every kind of furnishing and supply a married couple would need to start out. My parents, sister and my Grandma Hyatt were excited about my impending marriage and wanted to be there, at the justice of the peace to witness the ceremony.

I still couldn’t believe that it was going to happen. As November 3rd approached, I was so excited, that I couldn’t sleep, eat, work, or think. After all of the struggle with her family over the previous month, we were getting married and there was nothing that they could do about it.

The night before my wedding day, I sat alone in my room, staring at myself in the mirror, questioning my decision.

“Am I ready to become a husband? Am I rushing into something that isn’t going to work?” I asked.

I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered where the 18 year old kid had gone and who this 24-year-old man was staring back. Why was my life always full of ups and downs like this? Why did I always have to struggle?

I felt overwhelmed, looked at the clock, realized that it was late and went to bed.

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