were married and that I had no where to go. And he threatened to follow me, no matter what. No matter where. He wouldn't let me go, he said. But two weeks ago he pinned me to the wall. He accused me of an affair with someone I didn't know. Which was ironic since we supposedly had an open relationship. And I had slept with his best friend, Mike, a few times; although Randy never knew. And Mike's wife never knew. And Randy and I were both sleeping with Emily at that time - him going solo and with me it was always the three of us. I was also sleeping with her husband - which Randy knew and she knew. So it made no sense, that outrage, the now escalating physical threats, the blame and the humiliation. I knew I had to leave and I knew I had fallen in love with Emily. I even told her one night in the kitchen of my house about falling in love. She didn't believe that I knew what love was, I was too young, she said, and I didn't let her convince me. She said I could move in with her and her husband. For a while. Richard and I weren't having sex any more; it was boring and we were emotionally way different people. When Randy said he was going to Reno, I knew that was my chance. I also knew he was going down there for more than just to visit his dad. And when I found the bruise on my arm the next morning, after being pinned to the wall while he yelled into my face, there was no turning back.
-*-*-*I keep writing. Letting the stories unfold. I still keep that note to myself so that I won't forget. My mind still wants to shove aside what's uncomfortable, what doesn't fit, what's scary, and that is. Or it was, but sometimes my senses react as if the danger is still here. And sometimes I wonder as my birthday approaches if he'll be in touch again. And how or when. It's been nearly 27 years since I left and I still have bad dreams once in a while. Nightmares with actual memories and with things he threatened to do. They no longer prevent me from going certain places we used to go to together and I'm not vigilant about the possibility of seeing his face on the street. My scars are invisible unless you know me. Unless I write about them, you'd never know. Dot Hearn is a writer and sign language interpreter in Portland, Oregon. Her writings have appeared in Alltopia, Prism, Six Sentences, and she was a contributor and editor for "On the Fly: Stories in Eight Minutes or Less." Dot is also a writing workshop facilitator for Write Around Portland and dabbles in writing scripts. One of her radio scripts, "Crossroads #1: Confinement," was produced by the Sudden Radio Project and broadcast on KBOO. She was also a script writer, director, and actor for First A.C.T, a child abuse prevention drama troupe.
-*-*-*Emily and I have been together just over 20 years now. It's taken some work, but we're still here together. Her two kids are grown and one has a son and a husband we don't really like. Last week, Emily set up her web page on the Psychology Today website. Two days later she received an email from Randy, telling her to tell me that he still thinks of me every day, and to tell me happy birthday. He and I eloped on my 18th birthday. Drove to Reno to get married, in the classical way at that time. So my birthday was also our wedding anniversary; I left him two weeks before it would have been number seven. Emily debated about whether or not to tell me about the email. She knows that I still sometimes have nightmares about him and it's only been the last 10 years that I've had stretches of time where I don't expect him to find me and stalk me or hurt me. But she decides I need to know and so she tells me.
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She didn't reply to him. I don't want to reply to him. I just want to forget him and what he did. But he does surface every now and then; an email, showing up somewhere when I'm there. Only I'm not really afraid any more. At least not when it's light. Not when I'm in public. Not when he wouldn't dare touch me; make a scene. I don't think he has our address. And I know I could be wrong.
Issue 3
Page 7