Commentary and Philosophy Non-Fiction posted February 8, 2018


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How one town treated me.

Second part. Wrong Kind Of Love.

by Mabaker

A Wrong Kind Of Love.
The Finale.


The foolish man couldn't understand that he was ruining any reputation I had. He was fine, as a son of the town.
Me, I was a blow-in with two kids in tow.

It was the most horrible time of my life and I carry the scars to this day.
I talked with a Psychologist for weeks afterwards and with her help made some sense of it all. Anyway here's what happened next.

When a local son decides to 'play up' it's the woman's fault never the man's. He is never considered guilty, just the woman who had to be chasing him. Right? Wrong.
God, he was thirteen years my senior. Lived six houses from me. Was married with seven children and numerous grandchildren. No, I did not chase him.

It began with fruit and meat. Two items I was having difficulty in buying. The reason; The fruit and veggie shop banned me from entering. My eldest daughter was restricted as well.

So when the man began bring me fruit and veg. I accepted then with gratitude. In our early morning chats that were always held outdoor, me wrapped in my big ugly dressing gown, he in work clothes, I explained the town had closed ranks on me, did he have a suggestion?

"Let me move in with you. I will set divorce proceedings in motion, then you marry me and the town will have to accept you."
"What about your family? Your wife, your children?"
"The kids are all grown up, and the wife has heard about you for twelve months. Oh, yeah she's bawling her eyes out at the moment, but it's only show. We haven't had sex for over two years and she sleeps in her daughter's room."

"Is this is all it's about, sex?"
"No, I love you. Give me a chance to prove it."

So he moved in. The townspeople turned vicious. The locals spat on me if I passed them on the footpath. Called me terrible names. Slut was the mildest of them. My son was bashed by two of his boys and required stitches. My roof got plastered with rocks and the second eldest boy ripped out all my 26 newly planted rosebushes and stomped them to chips.

I was afraid to walk anywhere alone, but if I took the kids with me they were spat at as well. He was the only one who had right-of-way.

My son was moved outside his classroom, in all weather. The teacher said it was difficulty teaching with half the class hissing and flinging things at my son. Soon he refused to attend school as well.

His sister at fourteen got a boyfriend five years older and she was protected by him, though some men offered him money for ten "minutes alone with the slag."
It was a dreadful time. I rarely left the house, preferring to chop up wood for the lounge-room fire. He bought all food and fruit, though I paid my share.

Six weeks after his divorce became final, we married.
Why, why, why.

Why did I marry a man so much older than myself and one I didn't love?
Necessity, pure and simple. He had a job and money in the Bank, therefore my children wouldn't starve.
I believed once my name was his people might quit the savagery and let me live.

We were married one Friday afternoon by the side of the road right smack dab in the middle of town. Why, so everyone could see and the whispering would stop. It didn't.

That town was nearly the death of me. One day I heard of a town some miles away and with some mates of my daughter we moved. I made a vow I will never set foot in that town, and so far I haven't. With God's help I never will.
The End. Contest entry words 682.




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