Made for Each Other (Fiction)

1/2015

Marisol stared at the dirty plate and single set of flatware in the sink. Yesterday had been Jerry and her first anniversary, one year married after a whirlwind six month romance. Her friends said they made a perfect couple, no doubt secretly cattily dismayed by the brevity of the courtship. Her mother was ecstatic, no doubt secretly relieved of the fear of having her only daughter turn into a lonely old spinster because she was too busy wasting her youth on a pesky career to find a man. Marisol was happy.

Yet while she couldn’t exactly say the honeymoon was over, that plate grated on her nerves. She had made Jerry an elaborate and romantic dinner the evening before, complete with candles and a cheap bottle of wine she’d picked up on a last minute’s inspiration, from the convenience store down the street. Jerry hadn’t drunk any of it, but he seemed pleased enough with his meal, and afterward, she had cleaned up, done the dishes, and they cuddled on the sofa for a bit. Then a quickie, and off to bed. Thank you, ma’am.

Tonight Jerry was in the den, in the recliner watching TV, and the dirty plate in the sink was mocking her. She had already made dinner and washed all the dinner dishes, along with Jerry’s breakfast dishes. Today had been particularly busy at work; Marisol was a paralegal for their town’s most prominent lawyer. Her boss was the closest thing to a local celebrity the town had, and though Marisol never divulged much, even to Jerry, she found out much juicy town gossip working in that office. Who was divorcing whom for cheating, who was on probation for drinking and driving. Who had a TRO for domestic assault or was being sued for back child support.

And though Marisol was aching to sit down and maybe have a glass of that cheap wine from the night before, she had done all the accumulated laundry, made dinner, and even had time to run the vacuum through the small ranch style home. She’d hopped in the shower and finished up just in time to greet Jerry with his meal. She’d felt satisfied, as if she’d had a fairly productive day, and she was ready to relax.

But that dish rankled her. It was a wart marring the face of her immaculate kitchen, but more than that, it represented more work to her. And Jerry was on the couch watching TV.

Of course he deserves a break too. He just got off a work, Marisol told herself.

So did I, but I made dinner and then I did all the dinner dishes. Why can’t he wash his own damn dessert plate, instead of leaving it for me to do? she answered herself, in what she had come to think of as her Other voice. This was the voice she heard more often now, although she tried to quell it. That voice was trouble. It was an argument waiting to happen, and Marisol hated arguments, though she and Jerry had never actually had a significant one to speak of.

It’s not a big deal, she told herself, not worth nagging over. Marisol didn’t want to be one of those wives that nagged. She wanted that even less than she wanted to argue.

But the Other voice persisted. It’s not a big deal. Not by itself. Unless you consider all of the other ways he takes you for granted too.

It’s a not a big deal, she repeated patiently.

No, but if you bottle it up, these things add up until it is a big deal.

She had nothing to say to the Other. She just stared at those dishes, dismayed in the recognition of the first tiny seeds of resentment. Her lip curled unconsciously at the chocolate drying to a blackish crust on the tines of the fork.

Just then Jerry came into the kitchen behind her. He was heading to the cabinets, no doubt to rummage for another snack, and only seemed to notice she wasn’t actually doing anything, when he had to walk around her idle form.

“What are you doing?” He sounded slightly annoyed; why that should be she didn’t know. He’d been sort of sour ever since he had gotten home from work.

That note of annoyance in his voice sparked her own. She opened her mouth and a bit of the Other came out. Yet even that was tempered by her desire to keep the peace. When Marisol heard herself speak, she was irritated at the supplicating tone of her words. “Nothing. It’s just, well, I finished all the dishes, and it would be nice if you could wash your own dessert plate so I don’t have to later.”

Pain exploded in her face in a white hot flash, and when it subsided and she could see again, she was sitting on the cold linoleum. Through watering eyes, see could see Jerry looming over her, his face calm but hard.

Don’t tell me what to do, Marisol.”

Her mouth hung open and she sat immobilized, vaguely wondering what would happen next.  Jerry stared at her a moment longer before wordlessly helping her to her feet and then walking out of the kitchen.

Marisol raised a hand gingerly to the her lips, which were already swelling. Still, when she withdrew her hand, she stared at the blood on her fingers a moment before the full realization of what had happened descended upon her like a black wave. She felt a creeping numbness spreading up from her feet and down from her neck, so that her bruised face was the only feeling of which she was aware. The voice of the Other was whispering ceaselessly in her ear, but she couldn’t make out the words. Marisol went to the sink and retrieved the dirty plate. From the dish drainer, she took cast iron pan in which she had cooked that night’s meal. A few beads of water still clung to it, shining like black eyes on the matte surface of the pan.  Her mind felt strangely blank and she stared at those tiny black eyes and walked calmly to the den. She did not expect Jerry to beg forgiveness, and he did not. He didn’t even look away from the TV. She brought the pan up, and with as much strength as she could muster with one hand, swung a vicious arc at his head. The sound of the pan hitting home was like nothing she had ever heard, a hollow and unforgiving sound. Marisol dropped the dirty plate on his still chest. She turned back to the kitchen and, on legs that felt as numb as her mind, she went to the phone on the wall, picked up the receiver, and called her boss at home.

Note: this story started out as a single moment in my mind, along with a question; “What would it feel like in that moment (of complete shock) when a woman is hit by her abuser for the first time?” Somehow, though, the story morphed and took on and even darker tone. I blame Stephen King. Darn his subversive influence.

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Gun Control, Gun Rights, and Women (updated)

Pursuant to the massacre at Newtown and President Obama’s subsequent attempt to institute a stricter gun policy, there has been a tight focus on gun rights and an immense push to make our schools safer for our children.  Needless to say, the result is that the divide between gun rights advocates and gun control advocates is widening.

I have always leaned towards agreeing with the right to own a gun and protect oneself and one’s family.  That said, I believe the words gun control have gotten a bad rap.  Somewhere along the way, the idea of moderation, of common sense, got lost to both sides and the words gun control became synonymous with  “complete firearm ban.”

I do believe control is the issue.  I think people who own firearms need to better secure them against theft and illicit use (even by members of their own families.)  I think gun owners should be held to the strictest responsibility for their firearms.  I do not feel there should be a total ban on firearms.

The aim of this article though is to give some food for thought to both sides by introducing a slightly different perspective on the gun rights issue.  This is merely information…information backed by statistics and scientific inquiry.

I doubt there is anything worse than what happened at Sandy Hook in December, but this information shifts the focus of gun victimization.  To women.

Abused women are five times more likely to be killed by their abuser if the abuser owns a firearm.(source)

This is women, killed by men who legally own their firearms.  In short, it suggests a link between the availability of household firearms and female victimization rates.  

Of course, the first argument against this concept is that a man who would beat on his wife should not be allowed to own weapons, and there are laws that prohibit the purchase of a firearm by a person subject to a domestic violence restraining order.  But that is true only of known abusers.  What about the women who have not reported their abuse?

Approximately 20% of the 1.5 million people who experience intimate partner violence annually obtain civil protection
orders. (source)

As I said before, I’m not really trying to push a partisan view of the gun issue, I’m merely hoping to give both gun control advocates and gun rights advocates more information…

And perhaps help them to see we should all be working together towards a solution to end gun violence, rather than fighting against one another.  Maybe if we try to view the problem collectively- and objectively- we can come up with a solution that protects everyone’s rights and safety.

image: HR Giger

image: HR Giger

After yet another mass shooting, by a homegrown (that’s American) Islamic terrorist,  using mostly “legally” purchased firearms…in a club with armed “good guys” (security guards)…

Analysis by the Violence Policy Center has found that at least 29 mass shootings since 2007 were carried out BY perpetrators with concealed carry permits. That’s more than three times the number of concealed permit holders who prevented mass shootings through their swift action. (source)

I am tired of banging my head against a wall arguing with people who let their emotions mold the “facts” to suit them.  To be very clear, it doesn’t matter how you “feel” about it, or how much you support 2nd Amendment rights; it is a documented fact that increased gun ownership in a developed county leads to increased gun deaths in that country.  Not only is it documented, it is common fucking sense

The number of firearms injuries remains high in the United States, compared with most of the rest of the world. Firearm suicide rates are strongly impacted by the rate of gun ownership. (Kaplan and Geling, 1998) There is a positive correlation between firearm fatality rates and number of guns in developed nations.  (Bangalore and Messerli, 2013) (source)

One thing remains certain, despite laws for or against gun control, a lack of care and concern regarding one’s fellow human beings, whether in war or through domestic violence, will continue to promote firearms injuries. (source)

Cute Child Actors That Are Now Busted

*warning: one or more of these photos may be considered disturbing to some …and tacky, apparently…

In the same vein as Very Much Dutch‘s and B(itch) Log‘s posts on unlikely crushes and good looking men, I have definitely had my share of posts about celebs I’d boff and sexy older men, and now I give you my latest list:

“Adorable celeb kids who later fucked themselves up on drugs and now have criminal records and/or just mke us sad. ” (But in the interest of brevity, I ended up truncating the title a bit.)

So, here we go.  It’s a short list.  I haven’t bothered with older celebs like Danny Bonaduce.  This is more focused on child actors that were kids when I was a kid and since.

1) Macaulay Culkin– Home Alone (1990):  Still one of my holiday favorites, I can’t watch it without lamenting that this adorable little kid (who used to always remind me of one of my cousins) is now a gaunt specter.   I see him going the way of so many young actors who drowned in their own fame and money and ended up dead of an overdose.  I truly hope I’m wrong.  His latest press was decidedly not positive, and came in the form of some pics of him looking wasted, possibly sick or in the grips of addiction.  Of course his “sources” have denied either possibility, but I don’t see how he could look so bad if something wasn’t deviling him.

“Mack” in 1990 for the film Home Alone, and then in 2012 looking very un-Kevin McCallister

2) River Phoenix– Stand By Me (1986): I remember having a crush on River Phoenix in the movie adaptation of Stephen King’s “The Body.”  He’s long dead now, of a drug overdose, so I guess he’s technically no longer “on drugs” and he was never really “busted” looking.  But I do remember thinking (and still do think) what a waste of a beautiful man.  Given my macabre turn of mind, even as a kid, I’ll admit to you fair readers the thought of him rotting away in his grave was very disturbing to me.

River Phoenix ~ 1986

River Phoenix ~ 1986

River Phoenix,

River Phoenix, “all growed up”

can not speak for the authenticity of this photo, but supposedly a photo of River in his coffin (which seems appropriate given

I can not speak for the authenticity of this photo, but it’s supposedly a photo of River in his coffin…

3) Daniel Radcliffe– Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (2001): Undeniably adorable, Daniel Radcliffe captured the hearts of youth and grown-ups alike as Harry Potter in the film series of the same name.  Arguably, he’s not too far gone yet, but by his own admission he was drunk for at least some of the filming of the latest Potter film.  You disappoint us, Harry. ~smh

Daniel Radcliffe (2001)

Daniel Radcliffe (2001)

Daniel Radcliffe, looking a bit pissed (and that's the British interpretation of pissed)

Daniel Radcliffe, looking a bit pissed (and that’s the British interpretation of pissed)

And last but not least, because this still bugs the shit out of me:

4) Edward Furlong– Terminator 2 (1991), American History X (1998): A cute kid who grew up to be quite a sexy young man, Furlong has had his trouble with drugs, which is sad…  but not as sad as his other legal troubles, which include charges for domestic violence and harassing his ex.
He apparently also owes thousands in back child support.  The drug abuse I could over-look as sad, but fairly commonplace, but this other bit of douche-baggery just spoils the whole thing for me.  He used to be sooo adorable, even appearing as a model for Calvin Klein.  And now, he’s just a fat, dirty, slob who doesn’t know how to treat women.  I have lost much respect for him, which is sad because I so want to still like him.

A very young Edward Furlong-- cute as a kitten...well, the kitten's maybe not quite THAT cute.

A very young Edward Furlong– cute as a kitten…well, the kitten’s maybe not quite THAT cute.

edward-furlongyoung

This pic pretty much speaks for itself

Oh, Eddie, what have you done?

Oh, Eddie, what have you done?

~Sigh~  So sad.  But let’s look on the bright side; maybe he’ll read this blog post somehow, somewhere, and realize he has to change his ways to continue to impress all the hot moms hanging at home with their toddlers and watching Kung Fu Panda on Hulu.

Til next time…

Turkish Woman Beheads Rapist…right on

Note to my readers: While I realize this woman’s name and photo are now a matter of public knowledge, out of respect for her and other victims of sexual violence, I have refrained from mentioning her name or posting her picture.  Thank you.

A 26-year-old Turkish woman, who was impregnated by her rapist, reportedly shot and beheaded her alleged attacker to protect her honor. ~ Huffington Post    Continue reading