Page 17 of Pooh

Vex and I watch him in amazement as he turns and bolts for his truck, leaving his buddy still on the ground. Great friendship they have there. Vex reaches down and hefts the buddy to his feet and gives him a shove in the same direction.

We watch them leave the lot and then Vex turns to me and says, “Your method of making new friends is not working, Pooh.”

“No shit.”

Pippa

I have said no before to dates. Every woman has for one reason or another. But saying no to Pooh has been bothering me and I’m not sure why. He took it very well which says to me that he’s a nice guy. He wasn’t pushy or angry, just disappointed. I have this niggling thought at the back of my head that I made a mistake this time.

I dated plenty when I was younger and then I met Cal Morrison in college. Good looking, football star, the life of the party and everyone’s best friend. We got close very fast and we quickly became the “it” couple on campus. It was flattering to be chosen by the most popular guy, and great for my ego, and being young I didn’t realize that those things don’t matter.

We were together for about three months when he carefully started cutting me off from my friends. He showed a lot of signs of jealously and none were warranted. He became clingy and bossy over the months. I started worrying about upsetting him with anything I said or did and felt like I needed his approval for everything. He criticized my hair, makeup and clothes. He repeatedly pointed out that I was a reflection on him and I needed to do better. He became more and I became less.

Tammy noticed the changes in me when I would visit from college, but her gentle questions and concern didn’t override my dependence on him. She was starting to recognize the signs and I was not. If she criticized Cal, I got defensive and made excuses for his behavior. My self-esteem was taking a beating and I was quickly losing confidence in myself. I began to feel that the best thing about me was having him as a boyfriend.

We were together about six months when he first put his hands on me in anger. It wasn’t much. Just a shove when I didn’t move quick enough for him. But it shook me up enough for tears to flow and Cal was contrite. Apology accepted.

The next incident was when he grabbed me by the bicep and slammed my body into his while he screamed into my face. He was angry because another football player had asked me to dance. I had refused but Cal was still angry, saying I was flirting. He was fine all evening but as soon as we got back to his apartment, he grabbed me. It left bruises on my arm and, once again, he was sorry and apologized beautifully.

The third incident, he slapped me across the face and called me vile names because he didn’t like what I was wearing. He said I looked like a whore and he wouldn’t be seen with a whore. I felt horrible for having put him in that position and quickly changed. I was falling down a dark hole and didn’t even know it. That time, there was no apology.

I was miserable and afraid. I didn’t want to make him look bad by telling Tammy and that gave him even more power over me. I continued to shrink into myself and soon I was a shell of who I had been.

The day I walked into his apartment and found him in bed with a cheerleader was the day I knew I was done. But I made the mistake of telling him to his face that it was over and I didn’t get the chance to leave his apartment until I was black and blue and had a broken wrist. When he casually walked to the bathroom and got into the shower, I bolted out the door.

I packed my things and left school. When I arrived at Tammy’s, no words were spoken. She simply held me while I cried and then loaded me back into my car, took me to the hospital and set me up with a counselor. She never once gave me hell for not having listened to her. Not a peep. She was my rock and we got through the aftermath together.

I was one of the lucky ones because I had a support system. I had Tammy. I never doubted for a second that she wouldn’t be there for me. I was so close to graduating that the college was more than happy to let me take my finals online so I could get my degree. Of course, they didn’t want any police involvement and they didn’t want to lose their star football player, so everything was handled quietly and quickly. I only wanted away from him. I have never heard from Cal since that day and I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing with his life.

My experience with Cal led me to using a huge portion of my inheritance from my parents to setting up New Horizons. Tammy retired early from her job and helped me get it up and running. It has become my passion and my mission and, between the two of us, we’ve helped many victims of domestic violence find a new path. We survive on donations now to stay open but when those are scarce, I dip into my trust fund. I know I can’t do that forever so every donation helps.

We outgrew the original house I had bought and have recently moved New Horizons to the home we’re now using. It’s old and huge, but has a lot more space available for those who need it. It needs a lot of repairs and updates, but it’s in a better location and has a large lawn for any children that stay here. Just getting the rooms all furnished has been a daunting task and receiving help from the Devil’s Angels has been a miracle. A much needed miracle.

I glance at the clock on my computer and realize the fence crew will be here soon, so I close down my computer and leave the office. As I hit the hallway, a dirty, smelly streak of boyhood goes barreling past me and out the backdoor at a run. Mavis, one of our guests, comes around the corner and spots me. She stops and starts laughing.

“He’s your problem now! I give up!” Mavis states, while tossing a wet washcloth my direction before turning and disappearing back around the corner.

I catch the washcloth, square up my shoulders for the upcoming battle, and exit the back door. I don’t see Craig so I walk around the corner of the building and there he is, holding the garden hose. I’m now being held at gunpoint by a four-year-old with a loaded garden hose that has a shit ton of water pressure. He grins evilly as he grips the trigger type nozzle with both filthy hands.

“Craig. Put the hose down, honey.”

“Pippa. Put the washcloth down, honey.”

“Craig, I mean it. Put that hose down now.”

I’m seriously rethinking my outfit at the moment. White silk blouse, beige skirt and spikey heels. Not the outfit to be wearing in a water battle.

“Promise I don’t have to be washed up again today and I might,” Craig states, calmly.

“I’m sorry, Craig. I really am but you can’t go around covered in mud. And whatever else you are covered in that stinks to high heaven,” I tell him, honestly and sincerely. Not that it helps in the least.

“Then we’re both getting wet, Pips,” he threatens.

I’m starting to panic when I hear motorcycles coming up the alley behind the house and I see Craig’s hands start to tighten on the nozzle.

“Don’t do this, Craig!”

“Promise now!” he responds.

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