and 22 other short stories
Now available at Amazon
On Kindle $3.99
In paperback $5.25 + shipping
Free on Kindle Unlimited
Coming soon on ACX
Tuesday, September 13, 2022
Devour That Spaghetti
Devour That Spaghetti
and 22 other short stories
Now available at Amazon
On Kindle $3.99
In paperback $5.25 + shipping
Free on Kindle Unlimited
Coming soon on ACX
and 22 other short stories
Now available at Amazon
On Kindle $3.99
In paperback $5.25 + shipping
Free on Kindle Unlimited
Coming soon on ACX
Tuesday, September 6, 2022
He Barked
Mary knew Ingrid from work, but didn't know her well. The time she figured out what had happened to Ingrid was a time she had gone over to Ingrid's house to pick up some documents for work. She had been to Ingrid's house three or four times doing the same thing, but this was the time she knew Ingrid was in trouble. It was a clear day in April. Ingrid answered the door and let her in. Her husband, Mark, stood behind her in the living room, and Max, their dog, was right there to make sure Mary was ok.
Mark was very controlling. It was hard for Mary to figure out how controlling he was, but there were definitely signs that he was too controlling. For one thing, he stayed near Mary and Ingrid at the door and never let Mary get out of his sight. He got Ingrid to bring her the documents without Ingrid and Mary being alone together. Mary had a bad feeling about this. She sensed Ingrid was being held prisoner in some way; the room was very tense. But she was here for a reason, and it wasn't her business.
Mary did not see any bruises on Ingrid, or any signs she was being physically abused. But there was that strange sense that Ingrid would not tell her the whole story, was not free to be honest, and that they would be unable to talk in private. So, at one point Mary looked into Ingrid's eyes questioning whether everything was ok; Ingrid, however, met her gaze without emotion, and didn't say a word. Of course they were being watched.
Mary thought about consent. If this Mark was controlling her, and that was ok with her, and she didn't give any indication that it was a problem, what business was it of Mary's? She had a bad feeling about Mark, and about this situation, but that was just her feeling. Maybe she was superimposing some kind of "problem" onto something that wasn't a problem for Ingrid.
Ingrid spoke German to her dog, Max. Usually it was simple things like "come here" (Kommen Sie) or "get down" (runterkommen) but occasionally she would say other things. One thing Mary had heard her say in previous visits was "He is an evil man," (Er ist ein bosser mensch), but even this was not surprising to her. In previous visits, Ingrid would say that as if she was just expressing herself. Mary was used to this, as she had come by the house several times, and this running conversation with her dog was part of knowing her.
The reason this was important was that Ingrid didn't know that Mary knew German. Ingrid kept up this running conversation with her dog, easily assuming that things she said were for Max's ears only. Even Mark, her husband, probably assumed that she was calling him a boss, and not calling him evil. But Mary, who had actually spent a semester in Germany when she was in high school, had just enough German to know that she was saying "evil," not "boss." She had never told Ingrid that she understood, but she did. And she was generally amused by the conversation, since she liked Ingrid and liked the dog too, and thought this kind of conversation was interesting. She wondered how much of the German the dog actually understood.
As Ingrid spoke to her dog, Mary could see that Ingrid was very isolated. The dog, Mary, Mark, that was her whole world. If she wanted to express herself to anyone, what choice did she have? She went on work-from-home duty at work about six months ago, probably at the urging of Mark, and as far as Mary knew she did not go out much. But since then, the tension in the household had gotten much worse, in Mary's opinion. Things were not good at all, she could tell.
The breaking point on this day was when she said to Max, "Er ist ein bosser mensch! and Max actually made a shrill, quick, loud bark as if to answer "Yes!" Max's response was what actually surprised Mary. Mary knew dogs and knew that dogs had some sense of what you were saying, but were especially sensitive to tone. So in the end it wasn't so important whether Max knew the translation of bosser, but Max did know that this was his opportunity to say something, to make a move, to get Ingrid out of this situation. It worked. Mary noticed. Mary knew when the dog was upset and she knew she had to do something.
Mark, for his part, knew something had gone bad too. Mary figured that probably Mark was beating that poor dog too. Violence is the refuge of the weak, she thought, of those who have the physical or emotional power to commit it, but don't have any other way of asserting control in their life or getting what they wanted. Mary decided right then and there to do something about it.
She told her boss, and her boss decided to call Ingrid in and talk about it. Under pressure, alone and away from home, Ingrid admitted that she was being beaten and needed a way out of the situation, and it was arranged. A women's shelter and a midnight ride to another town were involved. Mary knew very little about it.
Much later, Mark would end up in jail, for some other kind of offense. Ingrid, back in town for another reason, called Mary up, met her for coffee, and thanked her for helping her get out of a terrible marriage. Mark had been like most abusers, she said, nice at first but then increasingly controlling and fixed on violence as a method. She would also admit that the dog had saved her life. Poor Max, she said, had died a short while later, as dogs don't last as long as we do, but if there was one good thing that dog had done, that was it. It was unclear to Mary whether Max had had to be left behind in the midnight escape, or if Max had come along, lived in Ingrid's new home, and had some trouble adjusting. Ingrid had loved Max, though, who was very loyal, and at least seemed to understand every word she said.
Mark was very controlling. It was hard for Mary to figure out how controlling he was, but there were definitely signs that he was too controlling. For one thing, he stayed near Mary and Ingrid at the door and never let Mary get out of his sight. He got Ingrid to bring her the documents without Ingrid and Mary being alone together. Mary had a bad feeling about this. She sensed Ingrid was being held prisoner in some way; the room was very tense. But she was here for a reason, and it wasn't her business.
Mary did not see any bruises on Ingrid, or any signs she was being physically abused. But there was that strange sense that Ingrid would not tell her the whole story, was not free to be honest, and that they would be unable to talk in private. So, at one point Mary looked into Ingrid's eyes questioning whether everything was ok; Ingrid, however, met her gaze without emotion, and didn't say a word. Of course they were being watched.
Mary thought about consent. If this Mark was controlling her, and that was ok with her, and she didn't give any indication that it was a problem, what business was it of Mary's? She had a bad feeling about Mark, and about this situation, but that was just her feeling. Maybe she was superimposing some kind of "problem" onto something that wasn't a problem for Ingrid.
Ingrid spoke German to her dog, Max. Usually it was simple things like "come here" (Kommen Sie) or "get down" (runterkommen) but occasionally she would say other things. One thing Mary had heard her say in previous visits was "He is an evil man," (Er ist ein bosser mensch), but even this was not surprising to her. In previous visits, Ingrid would say that as if she was just expressing herself. Mary was used to this, as she had come by the house several times, and this running conversation with her dog was part of knowing her.
The reason this was important was that Ingrid didn't know that Mary knew German. Ingrid kept up this running conversation with her dog, easily assuming that things she said were for Max's ears only. Even Mark, her husband, probably assumed that she was calling him a boss, and not calling him evil. But Mary, who had actually spent a semester in Germany when she was in high school, had just enough German to know that she was saying "evil," not "boss." She had never told Ingrid that she understood, but she did. And she was generally amused by the conversation, since she liked Ingrid and liked the dog too, and thought this kind of conversation was interesting. She wondered how much of the German the dog actually understood.
As Ingrid spoke to her dog, Mary could see that Ingrid was very isolated. The dog, Mary, Mark, that was her whole world. If she wanted to express herself to anyone, what choice did she have? She went on work-from-home duty at work about six months ago, probably at the urging of Mark, and as far as Mary knew she did not go out much. But since then, the tension in the household had gotten much worse, in Mary's opinion. Things were not good at all, she could tell.
The breaking point on this day was when she said to Max, "Er ist ein bosser mensch! and Max actually made a shrill, quick, loud bark as if to answer "Yes!" Max's response was what actually surprised Mary. Mary knew dogs and knew that dogs had some sense of what you were saying, but were especially sensitive to tone. So in the end it wasn't so important whether Max knew the translation of bosser, but Max did know that this was his opportunity to say something, to make a move, to get Ingrid out of this situation. It worked. Mary noticed. Mary knew when the dog was upset and she knew she had to do something.
Mark, for his part, knew something had gone bad too. Mary figured that probably Mark was beating that poor dog too. Violence is the refuge of the weak, she thought, of those who have the physical or emotional power to commit it, but don't have any other way of asserting control in their life or getting what they wanted. Mary decided right then and there to do something about it.
She told her boss, and her boss decided to call Ingrid in and talk about it. Under pressure, alone and away from home, Ingrid admitted that she was being beaten and needed a way out of the situation, and it was arranged. A women's shelter and a midnight ride to another town were involved. Mary knew very little about it.
Much later, Mark would end up in jail, for some other kind of offense. Ingrid, back in town for another reason, called Mary up, met her for coffee, and thanked her for helping her get out of a terrible marriage. Mark had been like most abusers, she said, nice at first but then increasingly controlling and fixed on violence as a method. She would also admit that the dog had saved her life. Poor Max, she said, had died a short while later, as dogs don't last as long as we do, but if there was one good thing that dog had done, that was it. It was unclear to Mary whether Max had had to be left behind in the midnight escape, or if Max had come along, lived in Ingrid's new home, and had some trouble adjusting. Ingrid had loved Max, though, who was very loyal, and at least seemed to understand every word she said.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)