Distressing

Just recently on twilight in a trendy upmarket locality, I heard a female loudly hail me. A casually dressed, middle-aged, white woman emerged from a side street and ran across the road. By the way she reefed open the rear door told me she was late and anxious. So we joined the peak hour traffic for a slick fifteen minute trip conducted in silence.

On arriving at an RSL club car park she made a phone call. ‘Are you ready ?’, she quietly asked. ‘I’m here now, in the car park....well, why don’t we use this taxi ?...okay, bye’. ‘Driver, would you mind taking us back ?’, she asked, ‘my husband is just coming out now’. ‘Okay’, I replied, happy for the double fare.

A middle aged fella dressed in workmans cloths appeared and in the fading light I picked him for an aboriginal. This struck me as unusual as I rarely see middle-aged, multi-racial couples around town. He was big man and struggled into the seat behind my security screen. ‘Big mistake’, he bellowed, ‘big mistake !’. Realising his limited space I offered, ‘Sure you don’t want to sit up front ?’. ‘No ! I’m talkin’ to the missus’. Oh...

With that he launched into his wife, admonishing her for coming to pick him up. ‘Didn’t you get my puckin’ message !?’. Uh-oh, I thought, trouble. ‘Yes’, she said, ‘but I called you...’. ‘BULLSHIT ! I puckin’ told you last night...’. ‘Excuse me’, she quietly interrupted, ‘last night we discussed....’. ‘EXCUSE ME !? I left a puckin’ message this arvo !! You just don’t PUCKIN’ LESSON, do you ?’. He was drunk and losing control, then snapped at me, ‘Turn right !’, indicating a local short cut, obviously a regular route for him.

‘Please, don’t be like that’, the wife said evenly, ‘this morning we discussed...’. ‘Don't !’, he barked, ‘Don’t even GO THERE !’. ‘No’, she protested... ‘SHUT UP! SHUT THE PUCK UP !’. I glanced in the rear view mirror to see him lunge across the seat at her, then check himself. Just as well I thought, as I was already contemplating whether to terminate the trip; tell him to 'shut the puck up!'; or head to the nearest police station. Any of which would probably make it worse for her. That she maintained an admirable composure, seemingly unfazed by his brutish behaviour encouraged me to continue.

In a steady, detached voice she said, ‘I just thought it would be nice on my birthday...’. ‘BIRTHDAY !? Dat’s it, idinnit ? It’s always about YOU !’. ‘Well’, she continued unperturbed, ‘fifty is special...’. ‘Not so PUKIN’ SPECIAL you couldn’t be home this arvo...’. She calmly interrupted, ‘I told you I was having a drink with...’. He exploded ! ‘THAT’S PUCKIN’ RIGHT ! You’d rather drink with ya little POOFTA FRIENDS !’. And for the next ten minutes he wielded an unrelenting and vicious attack, going over the same ground. Why do some women tolerate such arseholes, I wondered.

Finally I re-entered their neighbourhood, relieved they would soon be gone. In the early dark a cyclist freewheeled ahead next to parked cars and I slowed to drive around her. Suddenly, without warning she pulled a right-angle turn directly in front of us, within two metres of the bumper !

Jamming the brakes I almost stopped dead as she narrowly sailed clear. The wife shrieked and the moron slammed into the security screen with a loud crash, not wearing a seat belt. ‘YOU PUCKIN STUPID PUCKIN BITCH !!’, he screamed out the open window. ‘IDIOT !’, I yelled in lame response and stopped, shaken. Then got going again to drop them home without further abuse. Phew.

Later, I considered this heart-stopping traffic incident was as close as it gets. It rated with only two previous, life-saving manoeuvres I’ve undertaken in ten years driving taxis. Split-second events only sheer instinct can account for avoiding fatalities.

Yet it wasn’t this which preoccupied me for the rest of the shift. It was the savage and sustained attack conducted in the rear seat leading up to the event. That the moron would behave like that to a wife on her fiftieth birthday was truly disturbing. She obviously wanted to share the evening with her husband yet was mercilessly attacked for the effort. A distressing encounter which felt much worse than nearly killing a cyclist.

Comments

[Walter]

I was fortunate in my six years of cab driving to never experience domestic abuse like that. Had my share of near-accidents, but never anything in the car like that. Did you have your security shield closed? Hope so.

[Lee]

I really do not understand women who put up with abuse of any kind. There can't be any love left in an abusive relationship, whether the abuse be mental, physical or both.

I think they stay in such relationships because they fear being on their own.

No man has struck or will ever strike me...one thing is a certainty...I wouldn't remain for round two...or, perhaps, he wouldn't be...because I wouldn't be held responsible for my reaction!

Nobody...male or female...should have to put up with abuse of any kind...there is only one choice to be made...they have is to move out and away from it.

[redcap]

That must have been horrible, Adrian. Well done for missing the cyclist under such trying circumstances. But didn't it feel good to inadvertently smack a man who abuses his wife against the barrier? I can't think of anyone who would deserve it more.

[Sheri]

I am glad you missed the cyclist, although she should have been more careful to be honest.

How awful it was to witness that idiot treating his wife that way. God only knows what happened when they got home. I pray that she will find the strength to leave this man, she deserves better. It's people who have obviously never been in, or around abusive relationships that ask the question, "Why doesn't she just leave?" They truly have no idea.....

Keep your chin up.

Sheri

[Lee]

I have been in that situation as a child, Sheri...and I still ask the question..."why doesn't she just leave?" I have a very clear picture...not 'no idea'...a very clear picture.

[Nick]

Jesus!!

[Sheri]

Go through it as an adult, and then talk to me about it.

[Lee]

I packed my bags, furniture, everything and moved away within 24 hours just from the threat of violence, Sheri. I didn't stick around to talk about it...I left.

[Carolien]

My heart breaks for the hopeful birthday woman. I remember so well the scenerio, unable to comprehend the twisted logic of a violent and controlling partner who hides behind the good bloke with a bit of a temper now and then.
By this stage you have been ground down to the point of believing it is your fault if you just don't talk to any males, don't ever question anything he says, don't make a fuss over the children. The children you had together when you were young and naive and oh so middle class. When I would have said myself "my god I would never put up with that" and the funny thing is you're already there and don't even recognise it for what it is. He so slowly goes about isolating you and grinding down your sense of self with such crazy making behaviour that you believe you must be insane yourself. By the time you start wishing that he would die at work or maybe a car accident on the way home you can't deny something is wrong. Why not just leave? Maybe its that by now you know he believes he owns you Somehow when you were distracted someone erased who you were and you were left with something pityful, something that in a previous existence you had looked down on and said why doesn't she leave?
Maybe she knows in her gut that this person the father of her children is also a person who is quite capable of turning her family into frontpage headline " Mother and three children killed by estranged partner".
Easy as that. He would be sorry, he wouldn't have meant it, he would cry and say how much he loved his family. Just lost it for a minute. Try having to leave and worry about whether you just signed a death sentence for yourself and the children.
Leaving doesn't stop the constant fear then the police and court when he attacks you in broad daylight while people walk past and pretend not to notice a 6'3 man attacking you while screaming I'm going to kill you, you fucking slut. The actual shock of being physically hit by another human who wants you dead. The moment I realised how little it would take to kill me was very sobering. The humiliation when he threatens your friends with death in front of their children because they had you as a friend. Its not safe to have friends, again you worry about them being hurt because of you. Can't have friends or they will get hurt you are not you anymore and maybe you are as crazy as he says you are.
Luckily we are alive, only because he decided not to kill us. Years pass and I believe I am no longer the shamed birthday woman. There are tears rolling down my face remembering but not the fear anymore.
I am glad that people like Lee are able to recognise violence and leave before harm is done. Others are not so blessed.

Carolien

[adrian]

Carolien, I saw your comment yesterday and didn’t know what to say in support, still don’t, without sounding banal. Not that I think your harrowing feedback looks for that, but a similar desire to express empathy arose at the end of the fare.

Arriving at their street the wife indicated the corner was good but the husband overruled her, insisting I negotiate the narrow street and deliver them into the apartment block car park and front door. He immediately alighted leaving her to pay by credit card. On handing her the slip to sign I noticed he was standing at her door, not that the arsehole eventually opened it for her. Rather he was monitoring the transaction and listening through the open window. The tension was excruciating.

I really wanted to quietly wish her a happy birthday; encourage her to ‘keep the faith’ or, offer something...probably inane, yet was totally intimidated by his hovering presence (I also wanted to go to the boot, grab the tyre lever and slowly smash his skull in). In the end I lamely asked, ‘Need a receipt ?’. Pathetic really, but what could one say without jeopardising her safety or compound her embarrassment and shame ?

Testament Carolien to your account of the total control exerted by such evil, that even strangers are reluctant to offer some fleeting support. Death is too good for such men. More power to you and I trust things are somewhat better for you and the family now. And thanks for your worthwhile and challenging response. It’s helped my understanding of the operating dynamic in her situation.

[Lee]

As a young child, I witnessed my mother being beaten by my stepfather, regularly. My grandmother would take my older brother and I and hide us amongst shrubs on footpaths in neighbouring streets. These memories never fade away, even if the years do. In those days the police had more power than they do now...the police ordered the arsehole out of town and to never return...I swore to myself that when I was older I would even up the score with the bastard but he died over in Perth, we heard, when I was 16. I laughed when I heard he was dead. My mother had various other men friends who were also abuses of women...and you wonder why I would never stick around if the threat of violence was made towards me?

Two things would happen if I was a victim of violence...

One...I wouldn't be there for the second round!
Two...I would probably kill the bastard.

And it's probably No. 2 that I would do first...that is my fear.

Men who beat women, abuse children are cowards. I don't wish to be anywhere near cowards. They have no part in my life.

[adrian]

Thanks Lee, that sounds truly appalling and I offer you the same sentiments I expressed earlier. Glad to hear he's dead though.

[Sheri]

I remember the fear of watching my Mom being abused at the hand of my Step Father as well. The emotional abuse he heaped on her, my sister and I. The horrible things he said that stayed with me for years. It wasn't surprising that my first serious relationship was an abusive one. It took a public punching for me to finally leave. However, it was the same cycle, the same emotional crap. Oddly enough, it was my Mother that picked me up that day I decided to leave. She pulled up in her car with a spit in her eye and a cast iron frying pan in her hand ready to strike. That man did not know what hit him. It was then that she told me to never let someone do that to me again (she had left step dad at this point) And I never have since. Funny, she took abuse for so many years, but was unwilling to see her daughter abused.

Lee I congratulate you for being able to pick up so easily and leave. Good for you. However, not all woman can simply do that. They get you and you can't get out. It's so liberating when you do though. The best feeling in the world.

As for Step Dad. I would probably do the same as you if I saw him. Hopefully I never lay eyes on him again - for his sake.

Thanks for the perspective.

Sheri