“Hello, my name’s Maggie.”
“Hello, Maggie!”
“Like most of you, I’m a victim of abuse. I understand what this process involves is sharing my story with others at tonight’s ASCA meeting. I know this is one of the steps we all have to take within this Adult Survivors of Child Abuse support group. I’m sure everyone who’s attended any of these meetings before, and since it’s my first time, knows how hard that is for me to do.”
“Thank you for sharing, Maggie!”
“So, here goes… I’d climbed up behind my boyfriend, Joey, on his motorcycle, and we rode away on the bike that night. Full of fear and fright; doubts I quelled by telling myself goin’ anywhere’s better than here.
Joey says ‘Maggie, we’ll go chase rainbows, and see what’s beyond this dead-end road’. Then, kick-starting the bike, we roared off into the darkness. I can still remember, and feel, that starlight wind blowing my hair. And with my arms wrapped tight ‘round Joey’s waist, we were on the road, a road to anywhere…
My mom was probably still sprawled out on the floor, half-conscious, that night; moaning and weeping, blood leaking from her busted lips, trying to rationalize that this was just life with pops. But that life didn’t have to be mine, anywhere was better than there
See, my mother’s man was violent and dangerous – short-fused – always about to explode. And no matter how often the same shit show had happened before, like moths to a flame, mom was drawn and attracted to him. Regardless of the many, many times her wings were left burnt, singed, and broken, ‘cause of him and what he did to me and mama.
But that’s all in the past now, years ago; so many men have passed through my life. A few I cared for, some bad, or worse, but none left a hurt on me like mom’s ol’ man. See, real reason I ran away from home, papa was creepin’ in my room at night, and my mother knew somethin’ just wasn’t right. So simply to be not there - I left home for anywhere
And even though I’d thought I got away, I never truly escaped. Ay, now there’s the Shakespearean-like Hamlet rub, right? At the end of every single day, what difference does it make where you are when you can no longer love; establish long-term lasting relationships with anyone; fully trust your family, friends, and lovers – or actually, anyone at all? Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, we do! Yes, yes, yes!”
“When mama’s man broke my wings way back when, at an early age, that damn SOB also crushed my heart for good. That prick left a pain I carry every step of the way, each and every day since, ‘cause he did to his daughter what no daddy ever should do. I wasn’t only violated – I was ruined for life when it came to relationships.
Next, if you can fast-forward with me going on some twenty years ago after that night, to a time and place when and where I married me this fella, then y’all’ll understand exactly what I’m talking about standing up here in front of youse tonight here at this ASCA meet.
He, who I guess I’d now say is currently my ex-husband, well, he never hit me or anything, but just couldn’t keep it in his pants. That horny tomcat would dirty dance ‘hind my back – but hah, so much for romance! It hurt me deep down bad, but he never ever even cared, I imagine.
Look, I want to say I’m truly sorry for what I’m about to share next. Perhaps it has nothing to do with rape, incest, or abuse, but maybe it does. Well, I certainly think so, so I hope it’s alright to share it with the room.”
“Share, share, share, share, share, share, share, share!”
“Okay, now a’days my doctor says I’m sick with cancer, and there’s not a helluva a lot that they can do for me anymore. And when that husband heard, he just cut bait, leaves me to never come back – and that’s that for the unhappy marriage. Don’t know where that cheatin’ bastard went, except away from me and my problems. That dude’s just another sorry soul on the run who ran away to anywhere, then simply disappeared
He’s probably shackin’ up with some dumb young thing that’ll wake up one morning to find he done the very same thing he done to me, to her. You know, I pity that girl ‘cause I don’t think she done nothing ‘gainst me. Damn, for all I know, that poor, dumb broad most likely never ever knew he was married while he was a’bangin, her booty in some fleabag cheap motel that lets rooms by the hour, ya know.
Now, I don’t have long here on this Earth, but I’m fine with that. I’ve made my peace best as I can, my friends. Not sure where I go when my life ends but does anyone really know? All I know for sure is it felt like a heavy stone I’d been carrying on my back all these years has been lifted by y’all listening to my miserable life story. It truly does, and I thank y’all – but I believe I won’t be back here for another meet with you. You see, yet again, I’ve got that wanderer’s gnarling, hungry feeling for the road to ‘anywhere’s’. For wherever f’ing anywhere is, it’s got to be f’ing better than the here where I been feelin’ I’m at again.
So after this meetin’ I’m gonna walk until I find me some highway, stick out my thumb. And if finally, some car slows down, and the driver says to me ‘Come inside, it’s cold out there, where ya going, dear?’ I’m not gonna just tell him – oh no – I’mma gonna plead, ‘Mister, or ma’am, please just drive to far away. To anywhere, anywhere, anywhere, anywhere, anywhere, anywhere, anywhere, anywhere better than here!’ Thanks, I really mean it, and God bless…”
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: During my M-F/9-5 corporate gig, I plug records to program/music directors at radio stations. Sometimes friendships develop, albeit, only over the phone and/or email. One such friend, a music director at a New England community station, during the course of several years' conversations, she shared with me pretty much all you've read in this tragic tale. I hope this story makes you feel uncomfortable, shocks, saddens, or angers you - it should! My major takeaway from talks my friend was the abuse in itself was bad enough - but the scar it left on the abused, and which prevents them from ever again establishing lasting relationships - for many - could be even worse.
Should anyone need to reach out for assistance, or if you wish to provide support for this vital organization, contact: https://www.ascasupport.org/
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Stevie B,
Do you have a Sony connection in NYC?
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It's one of the labels we work for.
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I want to use song lyrics in my story for this week, and I cannot get a hold of anyone for permission to use them. Would you happen to know someone who can help me? Their website and phone number are BUST. Answering machines and lost in cyberspace. LF6.
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Sorry, don't have that info. You may try contacting The Harry Fox Agency regarding general song clearance.
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That's ok. Thanks for the tip. LF6.
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>>My major takeaway from talks my friend was the abuse in itself was bad enough - but the scar it left on the abused, and which prevents them from ever again establishing lasting relationships - for many - could be even worse.<<
>>Reality is often more interesting than fiction, albeit I'd never give up fiction since it allows us to reorganize reality the way we believe best.<<
Very true on these points! And I think we are lucky as writers to be able to use our writing as outlet and perhaps as a way to make sense of things that have happened.
A couple of people have mentioned that there were some punctuation marks (.) missing, they're still there. Maybe after certain period you can't edit the story anymore... But it's no biggie.
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Thank you, Samsara. The punctuation mark problems occurred mainly when uploading the tale to the Reedsy platform, as most of my original formatting that had correct punctuation was skewed. When trying to edit it on this platform the changes were seldom saved, so I gave up on editing it here. Thought the message of the story shared was the most important element to preserve, so in frustration, decided to leave it as is. This story in it's original form will be included in my upcoming collection of short stories titled "Beneath A Lazarus Moon", scheduled to be published either at end of '23 or beginning of '24. Regarding writer's luck, I agree wholeheartedly. I consider composing as the therapist's couch of the the creative process. Besides, it's less expensive and more enjoyable for me than psychoanalysis...
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I share the frustration with the Reedsy platform! Apart from original formatting that doesn't transfer over, even when I tried to put sentences in bold using the Reedsy platform in editing mode, it didn't appear in the actual page. But when I clicked edit, they were already/still in bold - I gave up.
Good luck with the short stories!
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Thanks!
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Thank you.
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As usual, nicely done. You covered the abuse issue very well and thankyou for making her such a strong character. Any survivors of abuse are the strongest, most courageous people ..as are cancer survivors. Her angst was very clear. She had some resentment but the best word I know is resilience and you showed this in a few words. I like how she kind of felt lost at the end but that she was able to take back control of her life and for as long as she has, she is going to live her life the way she wants! nicely done. Thank you for taking the time to read mine
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L J, thank you and you're welcome. My weekly talks with Maggie were the source for this sad saga where most of the content were the actual words I heard her say during those many calls. The only addition to them was to choose the setting where she speaks them in their entirety as an abuse survivors support meeting as opposed to a series of actual phone calls from which they were culled.
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The scary truth.
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