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Tug of War

By Brenda C. Poulos

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Chapter One
Asudden rush from behind slammed Ed’s head into the clinic’s exterior stucco wall. Before he got his bearings, someone yanked him backward and struck him hard
across the face. Warm blood seeped from his nose.
At once, his spirit raged. “Get off me.”
“Cuff him. Then take him to the car,” a loud voice
commanded.
Ed swiped at the liquid filling his eyes. His head spun. He
couldn’t focus, let alone try to defend himself, as the officer yanked his arms behind him and clamped on the cold metal. He had suspected what was going down only minutes before it happened. Nevertheless, it surprised him. These guys were ruthless, as if they had some kind of personal vendetta
against him. Still, they hadn’t looked familiar...
He had lied to himself, saying there was no reason to believe their presence in the clinic’s waiting room had anything to do with him. Yet, his visceral reactions resulting from years
of adverse encounters with the law declared otherwise. There was nothing significant about the drive to the clinic for Betty’s appointment with Dr. Browne. She gave
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no indication she knew what was in the works. She talked about her schedule at the diner, her plans to do some grocery shopping on the way back home and reminded him they needed to think about a gift for their granddaughter, Mary, who had a birthday coming up at the end of summer. Small talk.
Once inside the clinic, he’d squirmed in his seat as two uniformed officers approached the intake desk. His heart rate escalated, his breathing erratic. Mere reactions. Reminders for him to keep his behavior in line... to use whatever self-restraint he had to combat the bouts of anger that all too often welled up within him.
When they’d concluded their business, the policemen left the counter. They settled in chairs across from him and Betty. Keeping their voices low, their eyes darted in his direction more than once.
Ed pretended to sort through his pocket change. He hoped to convince them he was going for a snack, but his real intention was to give the guys the slip.
He leaned over to Betty. “Want a soda or some chips?” “I thought we would get a Dairy Queen on the way home.” He shrugged. “That might be hours from now.” Rising
from his chair, Ed swaggered out the door and down the sidewalk toward the vending machine. He continued the ruse by dropping a quarter into the slot and pushing B8. One officer stood so close to him that his shirtsleeve brushed against Ed’s bare skin. The second man hemmed him in from behind.
His pulse quickened. He flinched, half expecting them to slap on the cuffs and invite him down to the interrogation room for a little chat right then and there. Act natural, he’d told himself as he grabbed his chips, retrieved his nickel from the change slot, and put on his best fake smile.
One cop gave him a hard, challenging stare while the other wore a dark expression. If they’d meant to intimidate, they’d succeeded.
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He felt the force of their stares as they followed him back into the waiting room and returned to their seats. He ripped the shiny plastic bag open on the first pull. Ruffles rained down on Betty, the waxed linoleum floor, and onto the ample lap of the heavyset policeman.
The officer held up the chip and, with raised eyebrows and a sly look, swallowed it in one bite.
When the nurse called her name, Betty turned to Ed. “Are you coming in?” she asked.
“Nah. I’ll wait for you here. Blood makes me a little squeamish.”
“I’m only getting the stitches out. No blood involved.” “Those rooms are small. I get claustrophobic.”
As soon as she left, the officers stood. “We’d like a word
with you.”
Ed sensed the walls closing in. “Sure. What’s this about?” “Outside.”
He rose, rolling his eyes. “Suit yourself.”
After they exited and walked around the corner, the abusive
behavior began, fanning the hatred within him. The more he fought against the restraints, the more they bit into his flesh. Someday he’d give the two bozos a taste of their own
medicine.
k
Betty followed the nurse into room number six. Knowing the routine, she stepped onto the scale without being asked. When that humiliation was over, she held out her arm for the blood pressure check and then walked toward the exam table. The stiff paper crinkled underneath her as she sat.
“Please lie back, Mrs. Wilson. That will make it easier for me to get at this bend in your neck.”
Betty lay down and closed her eyes as the nurse brought the suture tray to the side and began removing the neat row
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of stitches. She experienced the familiar sensation of threads being pulled through her tender tissue. It wasn’t the first time, but dare she hope it would be the last?
She had gone through her childhood with only a few bumps and bruises, but her adulthood—married life, to be specific—had been quite another story. She’d often felt the brunt of Ed’s volatile temper. The documentation of her abuse in her chart at the hospital had grown sizeable over the years.
Dr. Browne gave the door a sharp rap before entering. “Let’s have a look-see, shall we?”
The nurse turned her head in his direction. “Just removing the last one, Doc.”
Betty pulled back and sucked in a quick breath when Gloria swabbed antiseptic over the entire area. “Gracious. You should’ve warned me.”
“It’s not like we haven’t removed stitches before.”
Betty’s cheeks flamed. The nurse spoke the truth. Written on a chart and filed away in the records department was one thing. However, saying it aloud made Ed’s mistreatment even more embarrassing.
Dr. Browne stepped backward to lean against the small white cabinet in the corner of the room. “There may be a little scarring, but other than that you’re healing well.”
“Thank you, doctor. I appreciate you patching me up—again.”
He cleared his throat. “There’s something I want to discuss with you, Betty.”
“Oh?”
“I realize you never press charges. I guess that’s your business, but there are some new laws that have gone into effect since you were here last.”
“I understand—”
“The statute recently changed. Ed’s actions are now classified as spousal abuse and, by law, I’ve reported what I believe to be true to the authorities.”
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Betty gasped. “What if I say this accident had nothing to do with Ed?” “You’ve already told us what happened. Are you saying your statement wasn’t truthful?”
Betty gulped. Should she recant her original story, or should she just let the chips fall where they may... allow him to take responsibility for his actions and experience whatever punishment the court meted out? If she kept covering for him, he would never change his behavior. She shook her head. “This has gone on much too long. I’m ready to lay it all out in the open.”
“Good. Because I was just notified that Ed is already in custody.”
“What? How?” Betty’s stomach churned as she fought off a wave of nausea.
Dr. Browne laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Here, sit down a minute and I’ll have Gloria pour you a glass of water. I wanted to spare you embarrassment, so I had them hold off until you were in the room.”
“Ed will think I had something to do with all this. There’s no telling what he’ll do when he gets out.”
“When he comes home, don’t get into a tussle with him. Put the blame on me, if you’d like. Tell him it’s the law. I could go to jail myself if I neglect to report it. This is part of my job. Nothing personal. A threat is sometimes enough for a guy to change his ways. For your sake, I hope so.”
Betty nodded. “Me, too. Otherwise, one of these days he’ll go too far. We have grandchildren now. I’d like to see them grow up.”
“Understood.” The doctor turned to leave. “Watch yourself. Don’t set Ed off. The law protects him too, you know.”
k
Ed slid into the passenger seat, slamming the car door behind him. He glared at Betty for a long moment before turning to
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stare out the window at the plain brick building where they’d held him for the past 14 hours. He clenched and unclenched his fists as the sun sank on the horizon. A chill hung in the air. He shuddered as distant sirens broke the silence.
“Have you eaten?”
“If you can call it that.”
“I made chili.”
“My favorite.” His cynical laughter echoed in the small
space. “A last meal before I walk the plank?”
She blinked back her tears. “Ed, I had nothing to do with
you getting arrested.”
His mouth tightened. “Well, pardon me if I don’t believe
you. Who else knows about our private lives better than you?” “The doctor has had his suspicions for quite some
time now.”
“So, you’re blaming it on him?”
“A few months ago, they passed a law requiring medical
personnel to report cases of spousal abuse. He was only doing his job, Ed.” She stood her ground, fire in her eyes.
“We’re changing doctors first chance I get. I won’t be caught dead going to a snitch. In my book, he’s nothing better than a paid informant. Under the table money for him, I’ll bet. Such a sweet deal. Profiting from other people’s misfortunes,” he snarled.
Dusk had turned to darkness as Betty pulled the car into the carport and turned off the ignition. As soon as she got out, Ed skirted the perimeter of the automobile and whirled on her. He clamped his fingers onto her wrists and shuffled her toward the rear of the house. He slid his key into the lock, grabbed her hair and yanked her through the open door.
When she slapped at his hands, he retaliated by shoving her backward. She lost her balance and hit the floor hard. “Stop,” she begged.
Ed jerked her by the arm, dragged her across the kitchen and pushed her into the corner. He towered over her as she
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gasped and choked. He breathed out slowly, forcing his temper down. What was he doing? He’d just been released. Did he really want her to call the cops on him? He turned on the light and put out his hand. “Come on. I’ll help you up.”
Betty remained huddled between the door and the wall, her eyes wide with pain and disbelief. “Let me be.”
He stomped toward the living room. “Have it your way, traitor. Remember not to cross me again. I won’t be so easy on you next time. You reap what you sow, woman.”
His challenging words hung in the air.
k
Ed had left the kitchen, but his fury was still palpable. Betty now knew his mistreatment of her had a name. Spousal Abuse. A punishable offense. But no matter what they called ‘it,’ she doubted his behavior would improve. Just look at what he’d already done.
As her own anger subsided, loneliness began to close in. It squeezed until her heart ached. Why couldn’t she have a loving husband and a happy, healthy family? Material things weren’t all that important. Why had contentment always been so elusive?
Hot tears moistened her eyes as her hand hovered over the phone. The reality of his threats wouldn’t release her from their grip.
Should she make the call? Would it change anything?
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