Bobby Watches & Waits
I’m Bobby and I just turned 10. My parents split up when I was 6. No one likes to talk about it, and they act like I wasn’t there when all the bad stuff was happening, but do they really think I’m that dumb?
Before my parents split up, I remember my Dad used to drink a lot and then he would go nuts. Usually he’d be playing cards, and he’d start getting really hyper – banging the cards down and screaming when he won. Sometimes he would climb on the table and jump up and down on it when he won the game. At first I used to think that was kind of funny, but my Mom would get mad. They would have a big fight when everybody left. Dad would get really mean and hit us all. My Mom used to wear lots of clothes to cover up her bruises. Dad used to hit me on the butt and on the back of the head.
One time the family was all over and they were playing cards. My Dad got mad at me and grabbed me by the arm, hauled me up in the air and whacked me really good. I wasn’t very old then but I still remember that. My Aunt saw it happen and she asked my Dad to put me down. Then she took me upstairs where my Mom was crying in her room. My Aunt asked if this happened a lot, and my Mom told her that was the first time. I cried even more then because I really thought my Mom would ask my Aunt for help. After my Aunt and the others went home, my Mom told me that we could not tell anyone what was happening at our house. She said that if I told, then Dad would go to jail and we would have no money. She said that if that happened they might take my sister and brother and me away from her.
Sometimes things would get better, but then Dad would lose his job again and start the drinking and partying all over. Then there would be card games every day and Mom would come home from her part time job at the Tim Horton’s and have to clean up and cook for a bunch of drunk people. Sometimes I would come home from school and the baby would be screaming in his crib and my sister would be hiding under her bed. She hid under her bed a lot back then. I would have to change the baby and feed him his bottle, and bring beer to my Dad and his friends. I figured out that if I brought the beer and chips and stuff when it ran out, then my Dad wouldn’t yell at me or hit me.
One day my Aunt surprised us with a visit after work and my Dad and a lady were upstairs having a secret party and I think they went to sleep. I was changing the baby. My Aunt took the baby and got my sister out from under the bed. She put us in her car and took us to her house. I was so scared then that I told my Aunt everything. My Aunt said that she was glad I told her and that I should never keep a secret like that. She gave me a great big hug and got a snack for my sister and me. Then she called my Mom at work and told her where we were. Mom came to my Aunt’s house after work and they talked for a long time while my Uncle made supper. I never saw my Dad make supper and I thought that was pretty weird. But it turns out lots of my friend’s Dads cook too.
After supper a policeman came to the house. The policeman talked to my sister and me and said that my Dad needed some help, but first he would have to go to court for hitting my Mom. My Mom said we were going to stay at my Aunt’s house for a while and that we would get our clothes in the morning.
The next day we went to get our clothes with my Uncle. When we got there, my Dad came and he was really mad. He kept hitting my Mom and she was bleeding. My Uncle got us all into the car and I could hear the police horns coming near our house. Then my Dad was beside the car with a big bar and starting smashing the car windows. All of a sudden, a whole bunch of policemen were pulling my Dad down on the ground and he was screaming and kicking. My sister was hiding on the floor but I watched everything. The policemen told my Uncle to take my Mom to the hospital and that we should not come back to our house again without them.
Well, my Dad was in jail for a long time, and then he got out and came to our house and tried to break in the door. He went back to jail. Every time he gets out, he comes back and we all hide under the table in the dining room while we wait for the police to come. This time, my Mom’s lawyer says that he can’t come into the whole County any more. They said if he does, he will go right back to jail.
We have a pretty good time when my Dad is not here. We do stuff together, my Mom and me and my sister, and I can have my friends over. Mom laughs and smiles a lot, which she never did before. My Aunt told my Mom about a group for us, and we all go there once a week. It is a group that NSW does.
It is a good thing my Mom got away from my Dad. We are like a normal family now. We don’t have to hide under the table or bed anymore or pretend that things are ok. This is a special month for people to think about family abuse. You should think about it too.
Bobby' Mother Speaks Out
When I was 14 years old, I was kind of small and immature for my age. I still played school in the garage with the younger kids. At 15, I literally went from crayons to perfume when I met Manuel and fell in love.
Manny was 17 and from Portugal. He was so hot. You know, that Latin look: dark hair and eyes, beautiful lips. Manny said he'd had a pretty tough life. He told me that he was going to be sent back for mandatory time in the army. The only way he could stay was if he got married. I knew there was no way my parents would let me get married at 15, but I was terrified I was going to lose him. So I let him have sex with me without any protection so as I'd get pregnant. After all the screaming and name-calling was over, my parents let us get married. We lived with my folks for a long time and our first child Bobby was born shortly after my 16th birthday.
Manuel was a bit of a crazy man. My brothers and he would play lawn darts at family parties, and the whole family would play euchre. Manny would get so revved up that he would jump around, yell and bang cards down on the table.
Two years later we had another baby, Debbie, and then a third, Ronnie. From the day we moved out of my parent ’ s house, Manuel started hitting me. He'd get drunk and punch me. Then he'd punch me even when he wasn't drunk. After my parents died, it got worse. I used to wear long sleeves and long pants all the time -- even in the middle of summer with no air conditioning -- so no one would see the bruises. There were always big purple welts all over me, but I'd cover them up with concealer so no one would know. And I'd wear lots of clothes. My family would say I was nuts, wearing so much clothes when it was hot, but I just could bear for them to find out what Manny was doing to me. It was just more proof that I couldn ’ t get anything right. I was so embarrassed. I was so ashamed.
Eventually I had to tell someone. Bobby kind of set that in motion. It turns out Manny was having affairs right in the house with the kids there while he sent me out to work. Sometimes he even slept with babysitters that we had. Anyways, Bobby let my sister-in-law in on the family secret. She took the kids home with her and called me at work. I broke down and told her the whole awful story.
The things my children have seen made me so afraid of how they would turn out as grownups. Even worse, Manny molested Debbie on an access visit. He told my sister-in-law that he did it because he was so lonely. When that happened, I knew I could never go back. But it wasn't easy – Manny made sure of that.
Bobby talked about watching Manny go after me with a crowbar while I was in the police car. For a little guy, Manny was strong. It took five police officers to hold him down. Bobby also talked about hiding under the dining room table when Manny would get out of jail and come back to the house to try and get us. The kids and I will never forget the terror we felt. I think I know the name of every police officer in our county.
Ronnie has no memory of Manuel other than fear. He does not remember any good times with him – just hiding from him. Debbie has had years of counselling now for the abuse. I ’ m proud to say that she finished college and is working and engaged to a good man. She is a wonderful young woman. Bobby, who saw the worst of the abuse, has turned into a gentle and kind young man. Bobby wouldn't hurt a flea.
And me? Well it took me years to be able to go out on a date. Cars would drive by and I'd think I'd see Manny behind the wheel and all the hair would stand up on the back of my neck. A guy would move toward me too quickly and I'd flinch. I just couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched. To this day I am still afraid to tie my life to another man ’ s, but I have been dating a really nice guy who would like to marry me some day. I own my own house and I have a career now. Life is good.
One thing I have figured out is that an early experience in my life set me up to fall for Manny at 15. You see, I was sexually abused by an uncle when I was 10, and when I told my mother, not a word was ever said about it. My uncle moved out of the house, but he came back for visits all the time. Those encounters with my uncle had a big effect on me. I think if that had been handled differently I might not have married Manny. But in my family, no one talked about anything. So when my older sister ’ s husband also abused me, it seemed that was what I should expect. I was 13 or 14 years old, and when I'd go over to babysit he'd abuse me and then warn me not to tell because my sister, Angie, wouldn ’ t believe me. He was right. When I finally told Angie, years after I left Manny, she did not believe me. That was hard.
So all these family secrets, and not talking about anything, did help to make me vulnerable. I sometimes wonder what life would have been like if I had grown up differently. But here is where I am now, and here is okay with me. In my little family, talking is important. And we respect each other ’ s person, property and feelings. Now, our motto is: share your troubles and your joys.
If you think something like this can't happen in your family, think again. Everyone thought I had a great family. We had money. We went to church every Sunday. We looked perfect. You just can’t ever tell what's happening. And if kids don't feel safe talking, they won't. They'll just keep on being abused and you all can keep on thinking they're happy. I am telling you my story in the hope that you will be aware. If you or someone you know is being abused, call NSW’s crisis line (905-372-0746) for information and support. Want to donate your time and talent? Call NSW’s volunteer coordinator at 905-372-7056, extension 221.