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Anyone who looked at my marriage would be able to see quite clearly that it definitely was not working. Nevertheless my biological time clock was ticking. I wanted a baby desperately.

One evening when Enrique and I were sitting at the kitchen table, eating dinner, I told I Enrique that I would like to have a baby, which I felt was a natural progression of our relationship. Because I did not have a decent family to base my experiences on, I did not know that my marriage was not the sort of relationship that people should bring children into.

Enrique was not pleased with my request at all and promptly locked me out of the house, hoping that I would come to my senses. I was so naïve that I thought men married for love. It never crossed my imagination that a man would marry for money, sex, or a nicer standard of living. Of course Enrique would not tell me this for several years, but he certainly did not love me when he married me, that is one thing I do know with certainty. There is absolutely no way on Earth he could have treated me the way he did and still love me. Like most modern men, Enrique married me so he could receive sex on demand, free meals, and a highly subsidised living arrangement that he would not have been able to enjoy as a single man.

Babies were definitely not on Enrique’s agenda. He would stay with me as long as it suited him, but as soon as being with me was no longer economical, he would eventually move on.

Even though I knew very well that Enrique did not want to have any children, I nevertheless decided to stop taking my birth control pills. To make sure my husband did not catch on to what I was doing, I continued to have my prescriptions refilled and would merely put each tablet down the sink each morning.

I am not the most fertile of individuals, however, and even without birth control it still took me almost a year to get pregnant, which is indicative of an internal hormonal problem. I believe I inherited polycystic ovarian syndrome from my grandmother, which means that I would always have difficulties conceiving.

Although I was quite happy living in our little apartment, Enrique got it into his head that he wanted to buy a house. I was not particularly keen on the idea because I did not want to go through the effort of moving.

Enrique assured me that he would take care of the house purchase and the move, and I would not have to do any of the work involved in such a major project. Enrique promised me that I would not have to do a thing. Like most men, he was full of promises he had no intention of keeping.

If there is one thing that Enrique was not, and that was a gentleman. A classic example was one day Enrique and I had to go to commander’s call. Although Enrique worked on base, he insisted on taking the car while I was expected to make my way to and from the meeting.

After the meeting Enrique was supposed to give me a lift home, but before we left, I popped into the ladies room. Enrique could not even be bothered to wait for me therefore and drove off and left me at the NCO Club. When I went outside, Enrique was nowhere to be found. I waited for him a few minutes and then rang his work.

I was quite annoyed when Enrique answered the phone. He knew he was supposed to take me home, but instead he chose to abandon me. An argument ensued and Enrique angrily agreed to come get me. He sped into the parking lot of the NCO Club, sped home, and dropped me off. I was so angry with my husband for just leaving me like that and he was angry with me for expecting him to behave as any reasonable husband would. When Enrique did drop me off and then sped off, I was so upset that I threw my lunch box at the car. That public act of defiance was all I could do. If I did anything else he would start beating me, and I knew it.

I was not the only person who Enrique picked fights with. One day when we drove to the Base Exchange, a man took the parking place that Enrique intended to park in. Enrique got out of the car and began yelling obscenities at the man, who angrily pulled out of the place. I cannot even begin to explain just how embarrassed I was. It was bad enough that Enrique behaved like a brute in his own home, but he did not even have enough self control to behave reasonably when we went out in public.

Enrique also took a dislike to one of the waiters in the NCO Club. I do not know why Enrique did not like this man, but when we went to the club for dinner he insisted on having another waiter. We therefore had to move tables so Enrique could have another waiter, even though I personally do not know what difference it made who we had as a waiter. I was very embarrassed at such a public display of belligerence, but that was just one of many incidents of being embarrassed by Enrique’s public displays of violence and aggression.

Finally, after almost a year, I was able to fall pregnant. When I was late on my period for exactly two weeks to the day, the morning sickness began. It is incorrect to say that I had morning sickness, because I was sick morning, noon and night. I could not keep any food down for several months, and when I was five months pregnant I still weighed less than I did when I fell pregnant.

For me, pregnancy was a physically exhausting experience and I was physically ill for the entire gestational period.

When I told Enrique that I was pregnant, he was so angry with me that he told me that he would never touch me again. He complained bitterly to anybody and everybody who would listen and made it perfectly clear to me and everybody that he did not want a baby.

Enrique complained so vociferously to his colleagues that they had to tell him that he should be happy he had it in him to sire a child because there were many men who were either impotent or sterile and therefore could not have any children. It is strange to think that Enrique was so opposed to having children because no one would believe it if they witnessed his later behaviour. I believe that Enrique changed his mind about wanting children when he realised they were easier to control than women.

Enrique was so upset that I was pregnant that he actually went so far as to ask me to have an abortion.

I have to say that I was quite surprised that Enrique would suggest such a thing. I told my husband in no uncertain terms that, no, I was not going to get an abortion. I informed him that he was free to leave any time he liked and he would never see me or my baby ever again.

Enrique never once brought up the subject of an abortion again. I think that he was quite surprised that for once I stood my ground. I had usually done what other people wanted me to do. I had been the perfect wife to Enrique, I was his doormat and slave.

I am sad to say that as soon as I got what I wanted, which was to be pregnant, I had no further need of Enrique. I suppose that attitude began to emerge as time went on. It is not as if my husband had ever been there for me emotionally or mentally. He was barely there physically. All he did was provide the sperm, nothing else. He never indicated to me that there was any love involved in our lovemaking, or relationship for that matter.

Enrique found a house and decided to move into it when I was in my first trimester of pregnancy and in the height of morning sickness. I was not given any time off for the move, so when I finished working a mid shift I had to spend all day packing, moving house, and the unpacking: all when Enrique promised me that I would not have to do a thing when we moved. I was physically exhausted and I am sure the stress of the situation did nothing for the baby growing inside me.

When we moved into the new house, which was significantly larger than the apartment we had rented, Enrique still refused to lift a finger both inside and outside of the house. I was therefore left to do all of the cooking and cleaning, as usual. Even though I worked full time and took care of the house, that was still not enough for my husband, who never helped out around the house and spent all of his money on himself. He complained bitterly about my lack of domesticity, and in particular, did not like the fact that the furniture was not dusted to his specifications. If it meant that much to him, he could have dusted the furniture himself. Enrique would never do that because he considered dusting women’s work.

Enrique, ever the incompetent, could not even arrange to sell the water heater. When we moved out of the apartment the landlord offered to buy the water heater from him. Enrique waited several months to go and get the money for the water heater. Our former landlord, always looking to profit from the American influence, refused to give Enrique the money, saying that the water heater was his. Of course the behaviour of our former landlord was despicable, but Enrique should have made sure he had the money before we moved. That one incident is just one of many that reflects what a major fuck up my husband really was.

It was also when we were living in the new house when the darker side of Enrique’s personality began to manifest itself with an even greater intensity. For no reason that I could think of, he would lay in bed all day long. Sometimes he would not emerge from the bedroom until 4:00pm, giving me no reason whatsoever for his needing to hide away in the bedroom, safely under his covers. I could not understand what the matter was that he needed to stay in bed all day long, but I would never have dreamed of asking him.

It was also when we moved into the house that Enrique’s mind games took on a more sinister tone. On more than one occasion Enrique incorporated sleep deprivation techniques. This behaviour is typically appalling considering the fact that I was carrying his child and needed all the rest I could get.

One instance in particular sticks out in my mind. I was working a mid shift and my circadian rhythm was all out of sink because I had to work five day, swing or mid shifts and then get one day off. The United States Air Force has never heard of the European Working Time Directive, and as a result I had to quite often work many more than the standard 48 hours, which is much more than a normal person should reasonably be expected to work.

In addition, I was not given any special privileges because I was pregnant. If anything, I was made to do more work because my misogynistic bosses derived some sort of sick pleasure out of harming my unborn child. I was not allowed to go to doctor appointments, which meant that I did not receive much needed ante natal care. I would be made to paint the site in an unventilated and unsafe area, thereby subjecting my unborn child to toxic fumes. My supervisors would also schedule me to perform training sessions during the day and then force me to go out and work a mid shift, even when I was given a waiver that said that I could not work more than 8 hours in a day. My supervisors were not concerned in the least about the well being of my unborn child. I believe they were such sick, twisted individuals that they would have been pleased if I had miscarried as a result of the extra work I was given to do and the emotional stress that they subjected me to.

On this one particular evening that I had to work a mid shift, I woke up abruptly at about 10:00pm. Enrique was standing over me with a demonic look on his face. He began ranting and raving about the state of the house, and I believe that such discussions could have waited until I was already awake. They certainly did not warrant Enrique waking me up to complaint about the state of the house. With me being pregnant, having morning sickness, having to work six days a week at all kinds of hours, and having move house as well, meant that I was not able to unpack and clean the house to my husband’s strict standards. Pity it never occurred to Enrique to lend a helping hand, but he would never do that. My husband would never lower himself to performing women’s work.

I was so upset about being woken up two hours before I had to be up that I just got up and got ready to go to work. I never told a soul about what went on in my home. It was bad enough that Enrique behaved that way towards me, but I was carrying his child and he was putting his own son’s health and safety at risk by treating me like a slave and depriving me of sleep. Enrique said that he loved my son, but how could he love a human being who he tried to destroy before he was even born.

One evening I came into work to perform my normal mid shift and my loser of a boss, Herb Snedeker, was waiting for me. I had a particular distaste for him because his wife had recently left under rather dubious circumstances. Herb spent his free time with the airmen on site, smoking dope, which resulted in a major drug bust. Although Herb was smoking dope with everybody else, he gave evidence to Social Actions in an attempt to save his own skin, which shows just what a sleazy character he really was.

The deal Herb made to Social Actions would be that he would be able to take three weeks holiday while all of his friends who he had been smoking dope with got busted. Unfortunately for Herb, Social Actions did not keep their part of the bargain. Instead of Social Actions busting everyone on site and sending them to their prospective assignments, they redlined their orders, took their security clearances away, and kept them on Cinco Pinco while they proceeded with non-judicial punishment. Needless to say, there were a few unhappy people on site, just waiting for Herb.

Herb came back from leave believing that he had got off Scot free, assuming that his friends who he had given evidence on would be well out of the way. He was sadly surprised and disappointed to find out they were still on site, waiting for him, and not very happy. They were particularly upset about the fact that he had smoked dope with them, yet because he cooperated with Social Actions, he was allowed to keep his rank as a Staff Sergeant, his security clearance, and would not be receiving any non-judicial punishment.

In addition to the fact that Herb was the sort of person to betray his friends in order to save himself, he was also a terrible technician and supervisor. After the incident with the drug bust where he turned in his friends, it was hard for me or anyone else on site to have any respect for him.

On this particular mid shift, Herb sat in his uniform and waited for me. He went though my training records and disqualified me on all of the minor administration tasks, saying that I said that I knew how to do them when really I did not. He didn’t dare disqualify me on any tasks relating to the communication electronic equipment I worked on because he was a totally inept technician who barely knew what an electron was, much less how it worked in a circuit.

If what Herb did wasn’t bad enough, that morning when I was supposed to get off my shift and go home, I was summoned to Keith Holshouser’s office, who was the site superintendent at the time. He had a letter of counselling prepared for me, which no doubt had been typed up in advance.

Needless to say, I was very upset about Keith and Herb’s antics because I was tired from having worked all night and upset from having been disqualified on all of those tasks. I was also pregnant and suffering from morning sickness, and all I wanted to do was go home and go to my bed. I became very angry with Keith and did not hesitate to let him know that I was not happy at all about what he and Herb were doing.

Because I was so justifiably upset, Keith decided to embark upon one of the oldest tricks in the book. He decided that I was mentally unstable and made me see a psychiatrist that very morning. Nothing whatsoever was said about the fact that I was on a waiver and was not supposed to be working more than eight hours in one day. I did not have any rights and was made to go along with whatever the Commander, First Sergeant, and Keith Holshouser wanted.

When Keith drove me to the hospital, his words to me were, “We are only trying to help you.” I have no doubt that many an abuser has said that very same thing to their victims just before inflicting pain, and sometimes even death.

I looked at Keith as if he must be crazy. If Herb and Keith were trying to help me, I wonder what they would have done if they had malice on their mind. I knew that Herb and Keith were misogynistic women haters who both had failed marriages. They did not think women should be in the military and therefore tried to use the military channels to destroy me. To say that I was mentally unsound was just a last ditch attempt to get rid of me because they both knew that they could never fault my work.

It should be noted that for centuries men have been putting women away in mental institutions when they wanted to get rid of them. It is such a shame that Herb and Keith came up with such an unoriginal idea. Otherwise the may very well have succeeded. What really saddens me is the fact that while they were using the military institution to harass me, they never gave a thought in the world to how their actions affected my unborn child.

Therefore, instead of resting, which is what I so desperately needed, I was made to sit in the hospital so a psychiatrist could speak to me and decide whether I was crazy or not.

Thankfully, the psychiatrist was a very reasonable person. She said that there was nothing wrong with me at all. She said that because I was pregnant, my hormones were flaring up, and that was making me more emotional.

Finally, at about midday, I made it to my bed. I could not sleep, though, so I just passed out and waited for Enrique to come home from his nice, cushy day job at Plans & Scheduling.

Enrique no doubt had heard something had happened, but he was not bothered enough to see if I was okay. He instead demanded that I tell him what happened as soon has he finished work at 5:00.

When Enrique found out what Herb and Keith had done he became enraged. Enrique did not have genuine concern for my well being so much as both of those two individuals where laughing stocks on the main base, which is why they were working at Cinco Pico. I can only suppose that Herb allowed himself to become involved in Keith’s plan as a way to salvage what little was left of his reputation after the drug bust several months earlier.

Enrique decided the following Monday we both would go speak to the First Sergeant about what happened the previous Friday. It was during this meeting the First Sergeant informed me that Herb and Keith had approached him with a view to denying me my NCO status, which would be coming up shortly. Since I had no record of disciplinary problems whatsoever, Herb and Keith decided that they would fabricate one, which is why they disqualified me on all those tasks, gave me a letter of counselling, and sent me for a psychiatric evaluation in the hope that I would be labelled crazy.

After our meeting with the First Sergeant, we went to see the Section Commander. The person who we were supposed to see was on holiday, so we saw a stand-in. It appeared that he was on friendly terms with Herb and Keith, and was more than willing to go along with them in anything they wanted to do.

The fact is that when I was in the office alone with Keith I asked him to give me specific examples of things I had done that made him believe I should not be an NCO, and he was never able to give me one concrete answer. The simple fact was that he did not like me because I did not have a penis, and that was all the information he felt he needed to deny me my NCO status. Keith and Herb both had failed marriages, they didn’t like women, they didn’t think women should be in the military, and they certainly didn’t think women should be non-commissioned officers.

Based upon the very bad meeting I had with the stand-in Section Commander, I went to see the Inspector General to discuss the problem. It was during this meeting that something positive had to be done. The military powers decided that they could not deny me my NCO status just because they did not like me. They had to have concrete evidence, which is something they were not able to come up with, no matter how hard they tried. They also put pressure on Herb and Keith to do their job properly, and that is something they did not like at all.

Because I had been disqualified on all of those tasks, I had to work the day shift with Herb so he could train me, which was a joke, really. This put pressure on the rest of the site because other people had to work the shifts that I could not work. Herb tried his best to train me, but considering the fact that I knew the job better than he did, it really was a pointless endeavour.

Herb had not anticipated having to train me because he did not know the first thing about being a Radio Relay Equipment Repairman, and he certainly couldn’t supervise. One of the first things a leader must do is lead by example, and Herb and Keith both were not very good examples of NCOs. If anything, they taught others how not to treat people.

I was finally summoned in to the office of the Section Commander. He told me they had decided to give me my NCO status, but he had a little message for me. He said, “the battle isn’t over yet.”

I have no idea what that message was supposed to mean. I did not know if he was speaking on behalf of Herb and Keith, or if he was reflecting the sentiments of higher powers. I personally thought it was an inappropriate thing for this man to say because I had never been a discipline problem, but was still being told that I was not good enough to be a NCO. I was deeply offended and had every reason to be.

The command section was worried that they might face repercussions for what they had done, and therefore decided the best thing to do would be to remove me from Cinco Pico, where I was still being harassed by Herb and Keith. I was therefore sent to work at Job Control on the main base, where Enrique had previously worked.

It was also during that very dark time in my life when Enrique told me that I should get out of the Air Force and go to live with him in Lawrence. I did not want to do that, however. Enrique had almost total control over me while I was in the Air Force and I dreaded to think what would happen if I had no job, no money, and a baby to support. I also knew in my heart that when Enrique had me where he wanted me, the violence would increase and would eventually become unbearable. I declined Enrique’s rather self centred offer. The military was not an ideal situation, but at least I had a little bit of independence. With Enrique, I would have no independence whatsoever, and that is something I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

When I was working in Job Control my supervisor told me that I had to attend a meeting with Social Actions. I had no idea what the meeting was about, but when I got there the room was full of enlisted females. From what I gathered, there was a great deal of dissatisfaction amongst the women on base, as they all seemed to have a particular gripe about one thing or another.

A young black woman complained about the way she had been treated when she was pregnant. When she was given a waiver to work only eight hours a day, she was made to report for work at 4:00am in the morning. She would have been really unhappy if she had worked at Cinco Pico because I was required to work a day shift and then turn around and work a mid shift. I was also not given time off to attend doctor’s appointments, being told that work was more important than the health of my unborn child.

It was during this meeting that I voiced some of the things that went on at Cinco Pico. I told them about all of the things that were said to me, and specifically some of the things that Keith Holshouser had said.

When I told Social Actions that Keith told me that oriental women do not have any pubic hair, they were incredulous. When I told them that Keith told me I should shave my pubic hair because I would love it and my husband would love it, they got their notepads out and began writing things down.

An investigation ensued regarding Keith Holshouser’s sexual harassment of me. The military authorities were particularly concerned about what Keith had said, but I was much more offended by his behaviour.

Keith would call me the “woman of the hour”, which I found to be quite offensive. He would intentionally get my rank wrong on military documents, he word order me to perform absurd tasks, and he would make me perform the same tasks over and over again, telling me that I was not going to be given any special privileges because I was a woman. I never once asked for any special privileges. I just wanted to me treated the same as my colleagues, nothing else.

Of course Keith denied everything, as he would. He also went home to his wife and gave her a fabricated story about why he was being investigated. The story Keith told his wife alarmed her so much that she blabbed it all over the base that she was going to sue me for causing her husband stress.

Somehow, during all of the turmoil that ensued, nobody gave even the slightest thought to all of the stress my unborn child and I might be going through.

One may wonder what happened to the bond between Herb Snedeker and Keith Holshouser that seemed so strong at the time they were hell bent on destroying me as an effigy to all womankind. Well, as one might guess, as soon as I was out of the picture they became bitter enemies, which is not surprising when one considers the fact that they only became friends through their mutual dislike of women and an intense desire to harm them any way they could. They both were as bad as each other, being overweight, over the hill losers who would only ever be able to get jobs as security guards in the real world. They were not worthy to wear the uniform, yet is seems that the military wanted them and not me just by sheer virtue of the fact that they had penises and I did not.

It was also during the investigation that it was decided that Keith Holshouser would be sent down to the main base to work in Quality Control. I was particularly upset about this because I had left Cinco Pico to get away from him, and he was being sent down to work in my department. I suppose that Keith left Cinco Pico in a cloud because he was not particularly well liked and he was certainly not respected. He was in for a big surprise because while he demanded respect on the site, nobody on the main base wanted to give him even the time of day.

Because Keith Holshouser would be working in my department, it was decided that I would be sent to the Wideband Maintenance work centre to work. Within a matter of months, I had been sent to work in two departments, all just to get away from that man.

Enrique was still as controlling as ever. He even told me what clothes I could and could not wear. Enrique did not like me to wear the colour red because he believed that only loose women or prostitutes wore red. Therefore, when I made a red maternity dress, Enrique did not want me to wear it because he believed that people would think I had loose morals if I did. The fact that I was heavily pregnant and few men would be interested in me was of no consequence.

Because Enrique was a loose cannon, ready to explode at the slightest provocation, I knew better than to defy him in any way because he would not hesitate to resort to violence. As a result of this, I had to repress much of the anger I felt inside of myself. This unbridled anger no doubt affected my relationships socially and professionally because I now know that there are very few people who can dissociate themselves from their problems at home. If I had a happier home life then I may very well have had a happier social and professional life. Since I had never had a happy home life, I had no frame of reference to judge my life by, and as amazing as it sounds, I had no way of knowing just how deeply unhappy I was.

Because Enrique was bigger and meaner than me, I did not dare confront him or even stand up for myself for that matter. Such tactics would have only led to more unbridled violence and I would have been the one to get hurt. Therefore, whenever I was angry with my very belligerent husband, I would take a pair of scissors and cut up his underwear, ties, or anything else I could find. Although I would never admit it to myself, I really wanted to cut him up, but his clothes would have to do. Enrique must have known that I cut up his clothes when I was angry with him but he never said one word to me about it. I suppose that even then he knew that I cut up his clothes, but he cut up my soul. One could always go out and get a new outfit, but getting a new soul was a different matter entirely.

The rage within Enrique would not abate. He seemed to be particularly angry when he came home from work, although I don’t know what interchange he had with other people to put him in such a foul disposition. One evening in particular Enrique came home while I was fixing dinner. He sat on the couch, scowled at me, and yelled, “What are you looking at!?!”, before grabbing the closest object he could find and hurling it at me.

I was so astonished that my husband would make such an unprovoked attack that I just stood there in front of the stove, speechless. It never occurred to me to think that Enrique’s behaviour was abnormal because in my mother’s house I was regularly called names, hit with any available object, and had things thrown in my direction.

With my all day morning sickness, problems at work, and problems at home, I somehow forgot to eat. Therefore, when I was five months pregnant I weighed less than I did when I fell pregnant. Although Enrique did not want a baby and took no interest whatsoever in my pregnancy, he decided to announce that he was not happy about the fact that I was not gaining weight.

Always eager to please, I started eating. By the end of the pregnancy I had gained almost 50 pounds. People believe that when a woman is pregnant, she is eating for two. They encourage her to stuff her face and gain lots of weight, thinking that is what the baby needs. In reality, it is better if the woman does not gain too much weight because the more weight she gains, the more she will have to take off after the baby is born.

Thanks to Enrique, I would develop an obsession with my weight. That was nothing new, however. When I was a child my mother, father and other relatives often told me how fat I was. For the first time in my life I was being told that I was not fat enough. Is it any wonder I have had an eating disorder for my whole life.

As strange as it may seem, I still loved my husband even though he did not behave in a way that warranted any kind of love or affection. One evening, on an extremely rare occasion, I decided that I wanted some intimacy. I therefore sat by Enrique, who was lying on the couch, watching television. I put my hand on his shoulder and caressed it for several minutes, hoping that he would get the message.

Enrique just lay on the couch, inert, continuing to stare at the screen. It did not take me long to get the message. Enrique did not want me.

Even though I was a battered child who had survived sexual, physical and mental abuse, as well as severe neglect, if I had been fortunate enough to go on to form a relationship with a nice man and have a healthy marriage, I may very well have matured into a sexually healthy adult. The extremely dysfunctional adult relationships I went on to develop did nothing but reaffirm my highly ambivalent feelings about sex.

There was one thing I do know, and it is that Enrique had a high sex drive. I have often wondered if, during that time when he didn’t want me, if he wasn’t sleeping with me, who was he sleeping with?

It was while Enrique was working in Plans & Scheduling when he developed a friendship with John, someone he worked with. Enrique became particularly attached to him for reasons that I do not fully understand. We would spend almost every weekend doing something socially with John and his family. Every Saturday morning Enrique would get up early and leave the house, and I would not see him again until late in the evening. On several occasions I would have to ring John’s house and ask Enrique to come home for dinner. It was quite apparent to me that Enrique had much more affection for John than he did for me, but I do not know if John returned the feelings.

When I was seven months pregnant Enrique decided to take a holiday on his own, without me. He was gone for almost three weeks and callously timed his holiday to fall on my 23rd birthday. Therefore, instead of celebrating I was commiserating the fact that I had a straying husband who would rather be holidaying in sunny Spain than with his wife in the last trimester of her pregnancy.

Enrique came back from his Spanish holiday safe and sound and full of presents he had purchased for me. When I asked him how he could leave me on my birthday, he said that he had to because he was afraid that he was going to go crazy. I could not understand what on Earth could make him go crazy. I didn’t even have enough comprehension at all of the dynamics of mental illness to ask him why he thought he was going crazy.

Although I never said anything to Enrique about the fact that he could abandon me at such a crucial time in my life, not to mention the life of his child, I suppose he could not help feeling guilty about what he had done. His colleagues may very well have said something to him about his actions, but I am not aware of it.

Shortly after Enrique’s Spanish holiday he decided to take me on a mini-break to the island of Fayel, which was also part of the Azores. That holiday turned out to be a disaster, again because of Enrique’s behaviour.

The evening we arrived, Enrique decided he wanted to take me to the local disco even though I was eight months pregnant and had a pinched nerve in my back, which caused excruciating pain. The only thing that would ease the pain was to lay flat on my back, but it was a little difficult in the middle of a disco.

Although Enrique wanted to go to the disco, he did not want to do anything while we were there. He only wanted to sit at a table, have a drink, and watch the people. He certainly was not interested in making conversation with me: that is one thing I do know.

I told Enrique several times that I wanted to leave because I was in so much pain. Enrique, as usual, was not interested in the least in my pain and insisted we stay, even though he sat there, holding onto his drink, not saying a word to me.

Finally, when I just could not stand the pain any longer, in anger I kicked Enrique’s toe with my foot and told him that I wanted to go.

I would like to point out that many times in our courtship and subsequent marriage, Enrique would kick me, pinch me, shove me, or give me dirty looks while we were in public. While I am not condoning my actions, the mitigating circumstances are that I was in excruciating pain and what I did to him was absolutely nothing compared to what he did to me.

Enrique was so incensed that I dared to stand up for myself that he stormed out of the disco in a huff. He did not speak to me for the rest of the trip. Although Enrique’s rejection of me upset me deeply, I was so accustomed to it that I didn’t even think twice about it. Enrique had treated me so badly for such a long time that not only did I not expect to be treated in any other way, I would not know what to do if a man ever did decide to treat me well.

Within five minutes of arriving back from our mini-break, Enrique was on the phone to his friend, John. It was quite apparent to me that Enrique had much for feeling for his colleague that he would ever have for me.