The Last Ride

The Last Ride. The story that prompted a professor who did not know me, to tell me the story needed to be told. He claimed there was someone who needed to hear it. He felt honored that I had shared. Quite frankly, I had a hard time doing it. The assignment was to share something real, that point in life that was your biggest “ah-ha”. The one that led you on the journey to now. I have argued with God, or flat out ignored him, until now. Now is the time. 

There will be someone who resonates. Someone who understands. Someone who sees that they survived the battle they just went through because they were carried. Though it felt like the worst, “the worst” didn’t actually happen. Because they were loved. Because they are valuable, though they might not realize that for years to come. 

This is only one of the many reasons that I believe God has used all the events, traumas, happenings of my life for the purpose of swirling them together for the good of someone else, and strengthening me. 

Please note that the names of persons involved have been changed to protect those who never wanted this story told. They know who they are, some have changed their lives, some have not. We all move forward. We all grow in some fashion. There is no intent to cause harm, but rather to help someone else see what I did not know. They are loved. They are valuable. They matter.

The Last Ride

Why was it so dark? I wondered, as Caden continued to scream and curse. Caden James, my husband, was on another tirade. Saturday, August 14, 1989, was proving to be one of the most eventful, if not most important days of my life. I wasn’t aware of just how significant or liberating it would be. 

I was tired. Lynne, my mother-in-law, and I had just driven into town. It had been a long drive home in the beat up Duster. We left New Orleans early that morning, dreading the long, hot , dirty ride home. There was no air conditioning. When we got to town. Diane asked me to drop her several blocks from her house. She said she feared for my safety if Caden were to see me. 

Driving up to the apartment complex I saw Caden standing on the sidewalk, legs apart, arms folded, and a demented scowl covered his face. He shoved me into the door as I tried to get out of the car. Pain exploded in my side and it was a fight to breathe in.

“Where is she?” he yelled. 

‘Who?” I didn’t have a clue who he was talking about.

“My mom”, he responded through gritted teeth, “where did you take her?”

I was trying to talk but his hand squeezed my face as I tried to speak. He finally let go, seeing I truly could not talk. 

“I dropped her off a few blocks from their house. She wouldn’t let me take her all the way. She thought Sam would hurt me too.” I was finally able to answer. 

“She never got home and if we don’t find her he’s coming after you!” he said. 

Sure, I thought. Sam, uncannily, had never hurt a hair on my head. I was sure he’d only threatened Caden. I was right. While Caden yelled and screamed at me, the truth came with it. He’d be toast if we didn’t bring his mother home. 

We got into the mint green 1979 Lincoln he’d recently purchased and drove down Circle 4, the by-pass circling Marysville. It was so dark. The only light I saw was from dim security lights of closed businesses and the occasional oncoming car. It was 1:00 a.m., and the bars would start closing soon. The longer it took to find her, the more fearful I became, the more yelling I heard, and less of a human being I became. (according to him)

“You’re lucky to have me, you white trash piece of crap” he sneered. “Nobody wants you, not even your parents.  Why do you think they signed for you to get married at sixteen?” “Are you frickin’ listening to me, you ugly ass witch?” “You can’t even plan to leave right, you’re so stupid.” “This is all your fault. You took her with you and if we don’t find her, I’m frickin’ going to kill you, you waste of space.” He sounded like a broken record after a while. 

I stared out the window not wanting him to see my tears. We’d done this so many times before. He’d hit me, sometimes repeatedly, later exclaim his love while gently stroking my hair. “Can’t you control yourself?” he’d say. “Don’t you love me and don’t you like to live in peace?” Peace? I was awakened once to seeing stars. I didn’t think it was truly possible. It is. My eyes slowly focused to see him straddling me and his fists slamming me left and right. It seemed like an eternity before I was able to push his 300 lbs off my “buck and a quarter” frame. Caden liked to watch the fight or flight reaction. He’d once held me at gun point and raped me for that reason. But hey, in our state at that time, the judges said no husband could rape a wife, she was his property. 

Attempting to ignore his words, I focused on the song of the crickets in the roadside grass as we drove and the calming whirl of wind blowing through the windows. We searched for Lynne’s car at the local bars. Apparently, she’d snuck the car out, he’d said. How did she do that, I thought? She would have had to go inside for the keys. Buy here, pay here, doesn’t get you two sets of keys. 

The smell of the Po’boy’s and tater tots as we passed Parkette, with its roller skating car hop flashing sign, made me nauseous. It wasn’t conjuring the normal memories of a doting uncle spoiling me with an orange drink and tots, as it used to. Caden made me roll up the window when he started getting close to people and other cars on the road. He didn’t want anyone to hear him, but me. 

“This is all your fault, if you hadn’t taken her with you, he wouldn’t be on my back!”

Lynne disappeared often and this hunt was par for the course.

“Are you frickin’ listening to me!” “You know it's your fault, you took her with you!” “What did you think you were doing, trash?” “You know no one else will have anything to do with you, I am all you have, you should feel thankful, and who would have your sorry hide anyway?” 

These words were yelled over and over to remind me of just how little I was loved or wanted. He needed to convince me! I knew he was wrong! My parents loved me, but they were old school. Their motto was “you made your bed, you lie in it.” I never told them what happened inside the marriage. My dad would kill him. I had to think of my little sister. 

“You’re a worthless piece of garbage, you should be thanking God I don’t kill you right now!” 

His words pierced my thoughts. Caden James was scared. When he was scared he was a tyrant. His fear became my pain. It had been this way our entire married life. “I” moved a stove two inches with my head that had been bolted to the floor of our rental. I hit the stove so hard I blacked out. Caden told the ER doctor I’d fallen and hit my head on the stove. The doctor, I could tell, tried to get me to admit I was beaten and asked many questions. There was no way he believed I tripped and fell into a stove. I knew it. Caden knew it and wouldn’t leave my side. He’d practically drug me out of the hospital once the test results showed no skull fractures. He reminded me over and over that it was my fault. These things would never happen if I just wouldn’t make him angry. I just needed to behave. Dinner should be on the table at 5:00 p.m., not 5:05 like it was. Why couldn’t I understand that I should just follow the rules? 

Yes, he was right, it was my fault. I’d messed up repeatedly. I was useless wasn’t I? Was I? That question crept into my head as he drove. I cooked, I cleared so well you could almost eat off the floors, and I worked as a night shift waitress. I paid the bills. Wait, I thought, why am I the only one paying the bills?

“Where is she, Toye?” he yelled, jerking me back to reality. 

“I don’t know Caden.” I replied weakly. I was tired. 

“Where did she tell you he was going?”, he forced between his teeth. 

“She didn’t tell me anything, she got out of the car and told me to leave.” 

I had nothing left. His voice raised, his hands gripped tighter to the steering wheel, the red anger was creeping up from his neck, or rather up each roll of chin moving upward to his face. The red made his freckles appear to join together and his chunky, hairless face didn’t seem so pasty with the added color. I grinned. Big mistake. Searing, pulling, ripping pain enveloped my head. It was so painful I could only see the blurs for a  few moments. He’d wrapped my pony tail around his hand, jerked up and pulled me across the leather seat so he could pull my face close to his. I tried to hold myself up on the seat to stop the ripping but couldn't. I didn't know whether to block any incoming punch or to hold the seat. At least his other hand had to remain on the steering wheel. I felt like a rag doll, only uglier. 

He released his grip and pushed me into the door. My head spun and I tried to focus on the buildings we passed in order to get my equilibrium back. 

“I ought to just rip your face off so you know you can’t go anywhere else, no one would even look at your ugly face then”, he said. I just stared at him. How was I supposed to respond to that?

“There’s her car!” I almost vomited as I said it. 

I didn’t know what he planned to do and the nausea from  pain, mixed with the putrid smell of his sweat permeated the air inside the car. The nervous fear caused him to sweat profusely. If we didn’t find her, his dad would beat him and it would be my fault. I knew what she’d been through. I secretly wished she’d left town again. 

The Circle 4 Inn was once a well-kept hotel. It was now the home of one of the worst hole-in-the-wall bars with rooms available by the hour if you were so inclined. The band playing sounded as off key and drunk as the nearest patron. The bar room was clouded by a ring of cigarette smoke, the stench of sweet perfume mixed with whiskey, and defeat. People sat two by two at dark tables doing anything they could get away with. Lynne was nowhere in sight. Her friends said they hadn’t seen her. Caden's eyes got big as he spotted Lynne's purse on the floor next to a “stoner”.  Caden grabbed him by the collar and asked where Lynne was. The guy didn’t know. I wasn’t surprised. He probably didn’t know his own name at that point. 

Caden turned to me about the time he said “well what are you going to do about this now?”, Lynne rounded the corner. She was drunk. She’d been home. Sam had lied. Big surprise. Her right eye was three shades of purple. The bruise spread down her face. She walked pained. You could see the hand print on her forearm and angry red marks where she’d apparently tried to rip her arm away. Lynne told Caden she wasn’t going back and she’d just as soon have him shot as to go anywhere with him tonight. She said I needed to leave while there was still hope for me. Caden grabbed my neck and threw me toward the door. Apparently we were leaving. 

Wow, he was angrier than he'd been all night. He shoved me into the car while screaming and every sentence ran into the next as I became every foul word and less than any life form that ever walked the earth. He was in need of a new vocabulary. He pulled out of the parking lot and I hoped he would drive long enough to fade the anger. With any luck there wouldn't be further pain doled out tonight. He continued berating me. I was so low and fearful at that point that his words hit home again and I began to believe him., feeling lifeless. I didn't notice his hand  had balled into a fist. 

"Stop looking out that window and listen to me!" he said. He hit me. I didn't want him to see the hot tears running down my face or the fear in my eyes so I kept trying to focus on the vacant buildings and broken street lights we passed. The pain suddenly inflicted as my head hit the passenger window, was immense. The impact was so hard I thought the glass would shatter. He'd wrapped his hand through my pony tail again and slammed my head three times. I tried to fight him an move toward the door as he drove but he reached beyond me to open the door., trying to push me out at the same time. Fear took over as I tried desperately to get a foot-hold on the joint of the floor board and door to keep from falling out into the traffic. I managed to grab the door handle, pull it closed, and push down the lock, keeping me "safe" inside the car. During the scuffle he'd veered into oncoming traffic and barely missed getting hit head on by another car. He let go of me and became silent. I guess he wasn't prepared to die. 

The ten minute ride home felt like a lifetime. I wondered what would happen next though I didn't truly have to. I knew what would come. There were never bruises to be seen. He was careful. He knew the perfect hit and never left proof. I believed his lies and they convinced me to stay in this for the past five years, ten months, and nineteen days. 

Fear, exhaustion, and pain turned into courage in the wee hours of the morning. I'd been placed on day shift for a few weeks, and it was difficult to hide how tired I was. I was always convinced I could never make it on my own, but this morning was different. I walked into the restaurant at 5:00 a.m. and the sunlight through the windows seemed brighter, the aroma of breakfast more satisfying, and my spirits soared. I could do this.

My mind went into over drive as I prepared juice glasses for a busy Sunday morning crowd. I kept thinking, hey girl you pay the bills, you never see his paycheck. you buy the groceries, you clean the house, you do the laundry, so what are YOU doing? Why are you staying? That's why my family has been so angry! They see this! They've seen this a long time! I haven't. How gullible am I?If I can't realize this before now, can I really do anything on my own? Can I? Am I smart enough? Am I good enough? 

YES! YES! silly, young, trusting, gullible, strong, brave girl! You CAN do this! You are worth it! You matter! You are valuable! Do it! I looked up at just the time my Dad walked in. I walked over with is water and coffee, and he said, "What can I do to help?" Daddy was that way. He almost always knew what I was thinking. We though a lot alike and put ourselves through the school of hard knocks in order to learn life. If we didn't attempt it ourselves, it wasn't fact. 

"Dad, I have no money. I need to leave but if I do I have to go away. If I don't leave town, Caden will find me." I left it there. I didn't tell him Caden said he would kill me if I left again. He would hunt me down. I believed him.

"I can't tell you what happened, but it's time for me to go", was all I could get out. Dad was angry. He'd been angry many times before, but I would never give him details. 

"Ok, you let me work on it," he'd replied. "You will be leaving on Wednesday but until then do whatever he wants, be the angel he expects you to be, say all the weight things, but don't lose hope. You will be leaving Wednesday". With that, he left a $20.00 bill for his coffee and promised to be back before Wednesday with the details. I just had to survive. 

Dad came back as promised. He said I would have to sign a divorce petition if he helped me. I had no problems with that, finally. He signed over his 1975 Cadillac Sedan DeVille, which could easily sleep six, so I'd have a decent car. He told Caden that evening while dropping it off that he'd rather give it to us than try to sell it, it was sentimental. Caden believed him. Caden didn't know that it was only in my name. 

On August 12, 1989, the sun was gloriously bright. I sent Caden off to work with food and a kiss. He glanced around as if he knew something was changing but he couldn't tell what it was. he asked what I was going to do that day since it was my day off. I'd be cleaning an doing laundry, I'd replied. He was satisfied with his little "wifey" and left for work. The 30 minute wait to make sure he didn't come back to check what I was doing, was excruciating. 

A smile as big as Texas eased onto my face as I grabbed all I could and loaded the car. The trunk was so full it barely shut. I'd piled the back seat with winter clothes, lamps, and anything else I could fit. I stopped when I saw the microwave. Caden loved the microwave because he could not cook. Just before I left, I walked the microwave outside the third story apartment, leaned over the rail, and politely let go. The microwave was no more. It was the least I could do. 

And so the last ride with him was the awakening. The last ride away from him was liberating.It was freedom. Now I could breathe.

THAT MOMENT. It was that moment  during the scary ride hat I knew "someone" had been watching over me. So many things. So many hurts. So many times he reiterated how useless and invaluable I was. He was all I could ever have, I wasn't worth anyone more. Funny, until this very moment, almost 40 years later, I just realized he actually put his own self down. But God. But God carried me. God did not "allow" all these things to happen. You see, I allowed these things to happen because I was stuck in surviving. I married him at 16 to survive a brutal childhood with who I always referred to as my egg donor. (that's another story or three)  God carried me. Jesus held me. I wasn't broken, I was merely beaten down. My savior broke the chains that bound me. He's a chain breaker.