Impaled on the Horns Of the Devil

AuthorHouse

Contents

Part 1. Impaled ..............................................1Chapter 1. The Seduction......................................3Chapter 2. Coffee Klatch......................................6Chapter 3. The Storm, Inside and Out..........................11Chapter 4. From Around The Kitchen Table......................18Chapter 5. Johnny, On Campus..................................25Chapter 6. Married, At Last!..................................28Chapter 7. Finances...........................................32Chapter 8. Family, Now?.......................................35Chapter 9. Springtime In the Dunes............................39Chapter 10. Wintertime In Iowa................................43Chapter 11. Misery............................................46Chapter 12. Incompatibility Spring, 1951......................49Chapter 13. Divorce May, 1951.................................52Part 2. Impaled on the Horns ................................59Chapter 14. Sneaking Around...................................61Chapter 15. Valparaiso, Indiana...............................64Chapter 16. The Confrontation.................................68Chapter 17. The Explosion.....................................72Chapter 18. Independence......................................74Chapter 19. Counseling, Conflict..............................78Chapter 20. Counseling, Religion..............................84Part 3. Impaled ... The Escape................................89Chapter 21. Counseling, Moving................................91Chapter 22. Westward, Ho!.....................................95Chapter 23. Seattle, Washington...............................98Chapter 24. Aberdeen, Washington..............................103Chapter 25. Deep Sea Fishing..................................106Chapter 26. Getting Acquainted................................112Chapter 27. The Cake..........................................116Part 4. Impaled On the Horns of the Devil.....................121Chapter 29. Manipulation......................................126Chapter 30. Pike Place Market.................................130Chapter 31. Pizza?............................................135Chapter 32. Prelude to a Wedding..............................139Chapter 33. I Do, Again!......................................144Chapter 34. Downtown Aberdeen.................................148Chapter 35. Christmas Agony...................................153Chapter 36. Moving to Seattle.................................158Chapter 37. Facing Reality....................................163Chapter 38. The Phone Call....................................166Chapter 39. Suicides?.........................................170Part 5. Impaled, Interlude....................................177Chapter 40. Sue Takahashi.....................................179Chapter 41. Camp Minidoka.....................................184Chapter 42. Japanese Americans................................187Chapter 43. The New "Me"......................................190Chapter 44. Dungeness Crab....................................192Chapter 45. The Other "Me"....................................196Chapter 46. Happy Birthday!...................................199Chapter 47. The Letter Home...................................202Chapter 48. Now, That's the Life..............................205Part 6. Impaled, All Over Again!..............................209Chapter 49. Back Home Again In Indiana........................211Chapter 50. In a Dark Alley...................................214Part 7. Impaled ...In Conclusion..............................219Chapter 51. But Why, Lord?....................................221Chapter 52. My Hearing Loss...................................226Chapter 53. Teaching..........................................229Chapter 54. The Battleground..................................233Chapter 55. I Believe ........................................237

Chapter One

Wintertime, 1951, Gary, Indiana

His left arm brushed so lightly against mine that I knew it was an accident. We were sitting in a hot and stuffy classroom and it was filled with desks. Each desk had a small writing table attached to its right arm, and every one of the desks was filled with a student. Since we were very crowded, some physical contact was inevitable. I tried to ignore his elbow on my armrest, and to concentrate on what the teacher was saying. The teacher was very interesting, I told myself ...

* * *

I returned for the next class meeting and, as usual, I sat in a desk on the right side of the first row so that the teacher was speaking on my left and so that I would be able to hear as well as possible. That same guy sat next to me again, on my right. He made me nervous being there because my hearing was very poor, especially in the right ear. If he tried to talk to me I would have a hard time understanding him, and I'd be embarrassed, as usual.

Oh, well, we'll be so busy listening to the teacher that we won't have time to visit. Besides, what I had seen of him so far, I couldn't care less.

Some minutes later, after the teacher began talking, my neighbor shifted position in his desk, and he "invaded" my space again. I continued to look straight ahead, totally ignoring him and he seemed to ignore me. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me and I began to steal furtive glances at him, all of the time appearing to give my full attention to the teacher. He wasn't much to look at, really. He was kinda short, not at all muscular. His thin light brown hair hung limply but it was cut in a conservative manner. He wore dark dress pants and a muted colored sport shirt, when everyone else was wearing jeans and just plain tee shirts. He looked like he was a non-conformist and that he deliberately dressed differently than the rest of the fellows in the class. He concentrated so hard on the teacher, that I assumed he was a sincere student like I. I really wasn't interested in him, just curious, that's all.

* * *

In class several days later he touched my arm with his in a much more deliberate way. I became aware of a strange twinge every time he "accidentally" touched me. In my naiveté, I wondered what was going on, but I didn't do anything to stop it. This was something new to me, and in a strange way it was exciting. He always looked away, focusing on the teacher. He pretended to be totally unaware of me. Then he accidentally rubbed his elbow along the full length of my forearm that was resting on my armrest between us. I finally realized, because of my physical reaction and my involuntary blushing, that he was engaging in a muted form of very suggestive flirting, and that I was letting him do it! It seemed more exciting because we were so secretive; no one else knew it was going on, not even the teacher just a few feet away.

I was feeling like a silly little teenager. The truth of the matter was that this all was taking place in college, in a night school class, and that we had signed up to learn about abnormal psychology. I was on my way to learning first hand a whole lot more about abnormal psychology than I wanted, and I wasn't going to be learning a lot of it from the professor!

* * *

We began to visit out in the hall during breaks and Floyd intrigued me because he was so very different from my husband. He seemed to be a sincere student who said he valued higher education and was supportive of women having careers especially in teaching, because it was so altruistic. He claimed that he wanted to get a degree in Sociology and Psychology and to become a social worker and counselor. As we got better acquainted, it seemed to me that he was everything that Johnny wasn't, and this realization simply fed the discontent that I was experiencing at home.

* * *

Chapter Two

I leaned against the wall and Floyd stood in front of me. His feet were far apart and I felt all boxed in. I was uncomfortable. It seemed like he was towering over me even if he was only a few inches taller than my five feet four. We were visiting in the hall during the class break one evening.

He's looking me over. I wish I didn't look so much like a kid. This blue corduroy skirt and sweater are clothes left over from my college days. Except for the white bobby socks and loafers I'm wearing tonight, it was what I wore to teach in today. Of course, the socks and loafers don't show anyway because I had to wear boots over them. I wish I had some more professional looking clothes. Oh, well, tonight I'm a student again, after all.

Running his finger over his eyebrows called my attention to his steely blue eyes. "How about letting me buy you a cup of coffee after class while you wait for your bus?"

Gee, looks like he wants to spend more time with me. That's great! I'm really curious about him. He's so different- The coffee shop will be warm. A lot better than freezing to death on the street corner in this blizzard.

"That sounds great. My husband won't be worrying about me being out in this storm because he's not home yet. He's working 4 to 12 this week." (That's Gary, Indiana talk for the three shifts that keep the steel mills up and running 24 hours a day.) "We don't get to see much of each other on this shift because of my teaching during the day, but we make up for it on the week ends!"

There, that should let him know that I am happily married and that I am school teacher. He can't say I'm flying under false colors. No sense in even visiting with him if that scares him off.

* * *

Outside, a lashing wind was blowing hard grainy snowflakes in from Lake Michigan. Floyd and I gasped as we strained against the biting wind.

Why didn't I wear snow pants or leggings tonight? The wind is wrapping my skirt around my bare legs. I think I'm going to freeze to death!

We hurried to the coffee shop. We stumbled in, stomping the snow off of our boots in the entryway. We hung our heavy coats, caps and mufflers on hooks near the front door and stuffed our gloves into our coat pockets. The fragrance of fresh coffee brewing filled the air. This was a comfortable place to escape the bad weather. Floyd chose a large booth at the front of the café and I followed. I sat close to the plate glass window so I could look up the street to see the bus coming. There were other people waiting for it too, so when it appeared, I'd have time to scurry out and catch it.

Floyd sat down across from me and as soon as we got settled he leaned across the table toward me. "You know, this light really makes your red hair shine."

I dropped my eyes from his in shyness. "I'll take that as a complement?"

"Of course. Actually, it's not really red. You're more of a strawberry blonde. Like an Irish lassie. I guess I'll call you "Bonnie".

"Bonnie?"

"Yes, you're too young and pretty to be a Barbara."

Wow! That's the first time anyone told me I was pretty! (I learned much later that bestowing names and nicknames on another person signified ownership and dominance. Just like Adam, in naming the animals, established his dominion over them.)

"You know, with your fair skin you remind me of some of the Swedish girls I saw when I was over there last year."

Now wide-eyed and alert, I said, "You've been to Sweden? I'd love to go there. I've always wanted to do a lot of traveling."

The waitress arrived to take our orders. We both ordered black coffee. After that, Floyd got more serious and seemed to be practicing his psychological counseling on me. Somehow the way his eyes locked on mine made me feel spooky. It was as if he was reading my mind and I dare not try to keep anything from him. But I was fascinated with his intensity. It was great to have someone so interested in what I had to say.

"Bonnie, tell me about your childhood."

"My parents loved me very much. I was always such a good girl, very obedient. They always told me how proud they were of me."

"How was that?"

"I remember when I was only about four years old, before Bert, my sister, was born, Mom told me about how pleased they were in the cafeterias when we were traveling. I never acted up like some other kids did. (I never had anyone to act up with!) Mom said they could leave me sitting at the table by myself just like a young lady, while they went through the line getting our dinners. Everyone was so impressed at how grown up I acted."

Actually, I was shy and I'd do anything they asked rather than attract negative attention!

The waitress came back with our coffee. "Here you are," she said. "The cream and sugar are there on the table. Could I get you a couple of cinnamon rolls? They're fresh out of the oven."

I was seriously tempted but without consulting me, Floyd replied to her in a curt manner, "No! That's all."

He read my mind and knew I was tempted!

Then he turned to me and said, "You don't need the extra calories, you know."

I nodded my head in meek agreement, but I was really Embarrassed ...

Yes, I am too fat but you really didn't have say that, you know!

Continuing with our conversation, Floyd said, "What did your parents do if you didn't behave?"

"If I was really bad at home, I got a spanking, but usually out in public, just being concerned about what other people might think of me was enough to keep me in line."

"Your public image was really that important?"

"I guess so ... Another time Mom wanted to cut my hair and I didn't want her to do it. I wanted braids like all of the other girls had. She set up our kitchen stool in the back yard. I'll never forget. It was on a Monday morning when all of the neighbors were out hanging up their washings. She got me to sit on the stool out there in full view of everyone. Then she started cutting my hair. She kept telling me that I didn't want the neighbors to see me being a bad girl, so I just sat there, whimpering quietly. When she was finally finished giving me a Buster Brown cut, which I hated, I ran into the house, threw myself on my bed and bawled. She came in, rubbed my back to calm me down and told me she was so proud of me because I didn't put up a fuss in front of all of our friends. But I wanted long pretty hair, not short hair, almost like a boy's, even if it was easier to take care of."

Floyd's and my first visit over coffee came to an abrupt end when my bus appeared.

"Oh, gee, here comes my bus. I hate to rush, but I gotta go! See you on Wednesday!"

I grabbed my hat, coat, muffler, and gloves. I threw them on as I rushed out, just in time to be the last one to get on the bus. The driver didn't see me coming and I was frantic because I knew I was already too late getting home from class. As I stepped up into the bus, the door began to close. I jerked my body in to clear the door and the driver almost caught my coat in the door. He laughed as though he thought it was funny. I grinned at him and said, "Made it!"

I staggered down the aisle of the lurching bus. I hunkered down in my seat and looked at the wind driven snow raging outside my window. I was already excited about our next visit. I really was flattered by his attention and his obvious desire to get acquainted with me.

* * *

Chapter Three

Floyd and I again went out for coffee after class. We sat in the same window booth as before. The storm outside was still dumping snow on northern Indiana, but this time a storm was going to start raging inside of me, too. Floyd was going to trigger it.

He sat down across from me. As soon as we got settled he said, "How long did you know Johnny before you got married?"

Before I could reply, the waitress appeared.

"Do you two want coffee? Or maybe steaming cups of hot chocolate?"

We both ordered black coffee but Floyd frowned at her intrusion because she dared to interrupt us.

He seems so impatient and rude to her, but not to me. He's so intense. I feel like he can look right through me. He demands me to be very open and honest. It's so unusual.

"As I was saying, how long did you know your husband before you married him?"

He demanded my constant attention to him. His beady little eyes seemed to bore through my skull, but then, I was flattered by how closely he listened to me. As soon as the waitress left, I said,

"A little more than five years. Johnny and I started going steady early in our junior year in high school. We had great times together and we were really in love.

"You went steady in high school?"

"My mom and dad didn't approve but it saved me from worrying about whether I would have a date for the next dance at school. I guess "going steady" is teen-age social security!"

I laughed at my little play on words but Floyd didn't react at all to my attempt to be clever. In fact, as I looked back on our conversations, I thought I never saw him laugh at anything. He seemed to be so serious, always trying to teach me something or to psychoanalyze me.

He patted my hand in a condescending manner. "Yes, I guess that would really be necessary for you because you're so unsure of yourself. I assume Johnny was also a misfit in school?"

I jerked my hand back! I was quick to deny that one! "Oh, no! Neither of us were misfits. True, Johnny was too short to be a big star in football or basketball, but he could run circles around the bigger guys. His hustle and speed threw them off balance and earned him second string positions in both of our basketball and football teams."

"But he was only second string?"

There he goes again! An implied put-down.

"Well, yes. Of course, because of his speed, he was great in track, but track events didn't attract the attention that the other sports did."

"So sports were important to you only because of Johnny?"

Is that another one?

"No, you know Wirt is the smallest high school in town. Because of that, everyone attends all of the games. My dad taught me the rules of the games when he took my girlfriends and me to football and basketball games in junior high. I was lucky. I knew more about sports than most girls.

"Johnny stood out above everyone else because of his good sportsmanship even if he wasn't a star. I was proud to be his girlfriend."

The waitress came back with our coffee. "Can I get you anything else?"

Floyd replied to her in a curt manner, "No! That's all."

I burned my tongue in my eagerness to get started in drinking my coffee. I wanted to cover up my embarrassment at how unpleasant he was being to the waitress. Floyd stirred his in a slow methodical manner, to cool it off. He seemed to be in heavy thought and I just waited, sipping my coffee. He seemed to be planning what to ask next. Then he picked up something from what I had been saying and said,

"By the way, do you know what your IQ is? I gather that Johnny isn't as much of a student as you think you are?"

My I.Q. is none of your business. Who do you think you are, my psychoanalyst?

"Johnny never was a great student. He got B's and C's in his academic classes and all A's in the extra-curricular ones. Mom and Dad and I wanted him to go to college so that we would have that in common, but he flunked out the first year. Now he seems to resent my teaching and all of the paper grading that I have to do at home at night."

Why in the world did I say that? Why am I prattling on about things like this to him? Because I like his attention?

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Impaled on the Horns Of the Devilby Barbara Boatright Copyright © 2011 by Barbara Boatright. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.