He bought the farm twenty- five years ago. It was a lovely piece of property. One hundred and five acres of beautifully maintained crops. The mint fields were an aromatic carpet of dark green. The filbert trees were in straight line formation like soldiers waiting for inspection. It was a lovely farm.
It was a lovely home. He had completely renovated the hundred year old farm house. The oak floors had been stripped of their scars and varnished with a new life. The walls wore paper from a romantic era. The crank styled telephone hung silently in the foyer. Antiques , flowers and small woolen rugs were neatly placed in the different rooms. The bay window in the parlor framed the slightly tilted water pump and trough in the meadow beside the house. It was a lovely place to live.
It was a lovely family. His father was endearing. His mother reminded me of my own. His sister looked exactly like me. She had been a middle school teacher before marrying. They were lovely people.
He started our two month relationship as a lovely person. We sat cuddled together in a womb of hot water overlooking his carefully manicured dream . We reminisced about our past lives and revealed sacred dreams for the future. I felt safe here. But that feeling slowly began to deteriorate. He started giving me permission to do my activities but would not participate. He shared his views with me but said I think too much. We ate his food and watched his TV in the evening instead of a pleasant stroll to the river. I visited his world whenever I was allowed. I felt powerless.
The children and I were casually laying around the living room sharing our day's events and planning tomorrow's schedule when we heard his car screech to a halt in the driveway. I cautiously opened the door and invited him to join our family circle. The alcohol demon had taken over his body. Smoke hung on his clothing , hair and breath. His eyes were only half open. He weaved over to my son to shake his hand. He kept repeating his words. He accidentally spit on my daughter when he greeted her. He then turned his attention to me. He started to kiss me but I backed away. The metamorphous was too much. I did not understand.
He sensed my feelings, and became angry. He threatened to leave. I told him he was to drunk to drive and offered my couch. He suggested my bed instead. I said no and repeated my offer. His anger was stronger. The person before me was screaming , swaying , threatening like a cornered animal ready to make a stand. I was scared.
I jumped at him and surprisingly knocked him to the floor. We rolled on the floor while he realized what had happened. I put his clenched fist in my mouth and bit as hard as I could. I felt warm drops of blood around my quivering lips. His grip on the keys relaxed. I grabbed my prize and threw it out the door. He stood silently in his cloak of alcohol and smoke. He then walked outside to retrieve his keys. As he drove away, I considered calling the police to report a drunk driver but I could not . I was confused.
He called the next day to chat. I confronted him about his behavior the previous evening. He admitted he should not have visited unannounced but thought I had over reacted. He conceived my outburst as being a problem and accused me of being petty.
The farm was lovely. The house was lovely. His family was lovely. But he was not. I drop kicked his ass out of my life.