Having married a Canadian (yes, a mistake) with beautiful black hair and matching eyes with the gleam of the devil in them, I moved to Canada with him because that’s where his career was at the time. Things started out great! I had a two year old, and that’s how he weaseled his way in… he joked about ‘when I was going to give my son a dad’! What an ass. BUT at the time, with his charm in every other way and my being in need of a great adventure, I was taken with him overall. He was the epitome of a handsome devil. He could be a ton of fun.

After moving to Canada, stupidly leaving my beautiful United States, he seemed to develop a feeling of having me at a disadvantage. I was not my usual strong self because of heavy trauma I’d suffered, so I failed to fight back in the way I normally would have. He got mad one day out of the blue because I had bought three tomatoes, two I put in the fridge and one I put in the window ledge to ripen. I like them ripe, he liked them not so much ripe. Two in fridge for him, one on ledge for me. You’d think he came home and found a $3500 ring I bought myself! That one opened my eyes.

I let it go, thinking he had a bad day since he apologized. Over the next few months, things kept happening that gave me pause, so I started stashing money (my own) behind picture frames of my son, knowing his ass would never look there! Thanks, MOM! ANYWAY! Here’s the road trip:

In a somewhat peaceful time, hateful asked me to go on a road trip to see his friends and family. I thought it might be a nice break, so I agreed. Not long into the trip, he started his usual crap and I wasn’t having it. It was really dark, I had no idea where in the world I was, but somehow I thought now was the time. I pretty much told him to shut up and pull over at the next place I could get a can of Pepsi. Being late into the night by now, options were limited to drink machines outside closed businesses. Great.

FINALLY after what seemed forever we saw one and he stopped and I got out. I put my money in the Pepsi machine and it ate it…. and that was the end of Pepsi for me. I tried to patronize it because it was born in the Carolinas like me. HOWEVER, it had now failed me in a foreign land in the middle of the night as I was being driven through the (literally) darkest night of my life by an ill tempered Dark Irishman. Fortunately, I had just enough change to get a COKE from the machine sitting right next to the dud. THANK GOD! I had no idea Coke would go Woke and make me rethink my loyalties, but oh well!

At the time of the beverage stop, we had been driving for several hours, and the weather had been so severe for weeks before that there were walls of snow lining the edges of both sides of the road. Just white walls on both sides, more than twice the height of the car for miles and miles with nothing but our headlights and black sky above.. and no one else passing us. The drink machines were a crowning glory of this Hell.

I was somewhat refreshed and tried to make the most of the trip, but I was not comfortable being out in the middle of nowhere with this man. I’d never feared anyone in my life other than my dad. This was nothing like that, this was serious. For another hour or two, we drove through those hellacious tunnels, and it dawned on me just how stupid I was for letting myself become a potentially bad Lifetime Movie!

I did not want to be buried in that snow bank never to be seen again. I did not want to be with anyone who would make me think those things, but temper is temper and it rarely goes away or even subsides. I decided on that ride if I ever made it back I’d take my son and get the HELL out of Canada as soon as I possibly could. His friends and family were nice, but in the end I only cared about one thing… that we make the drive home in the daytime. That’s very unlike me, as our family use to do caravan road trips through the night all the time!

Once home, I continued my plans to leave. I even had yard sales when he was at work, unloading some baby things and personal items so I could exit in one carload… which fortunately, was a big, blue, ugly station wagon my dad had given me. It was really nice as a Mom…but… ya know….LOL!

I kept things peaceful, and things could have changed but he did not. All my life I’d been strong, outspoken, and downright offensive when necessary, but after a huge loss, I no longer had it in me. If I had, most likely this fiasco would never have happened. Weakness is not a good look in a hard life.

One day, he crossed a line and the Fitch resurrected! What a glorious light it was to see it come out in such a ferocious, Justified (love you, Raylan) way! As devil and I were sitting down talking peacefully, my son wandered over in all of his two years of age and picked up hateful’s glass of tea and took a sip. What did hateful do? HE SLAPPED HIS TINY LITTLE HAND!!!!! OMG THIS WAS A JOB FOR THE FITCH!! OUT IT POPPED, CURSED HIM UP AND DOWN AND TOLD HIM IF HE EVER TOUCHED HIM AGAIN IN ANY WAY, GOOD OR BAD, I’D KILL HIM. He laughed. FITCH SAID YOU LOOK AWFULLY TINY WHEN YOU SLEEP, MOTHERF’ER, AND YOU MUST HAVE FORGOTTEN THE FIVE-PIECE IRON SKILLET SET OF POTS AND PANS MY DAD GAVE ME!! He stuttered something out… and Fitch said it would crush his head in the middle of the night and sneak away right back over the US border with a hardy FU!

I’ll never forget his bullying, hateful, stunned face when he asked what the hell was wrong with me and that I wasn’t the person he married…. DUH!! I laughed in his face. Who’s the dummy now??? Do you LIKE my American Spirit??

Anyway, thank goodness he had to leave before daylight to go to work and didn’t return until around 6 or so. That allowed me to have a few days to gather my thoughts and belongings that mattered. I stayed up all night and slept while he worked. Born as a night owl into a night owl family (into their 80s), my son was very happy to accommodate the overnight fun! We did that a few days and finally, my time to go arrived! I waited till Darkness went to work and started loading up the car. Packing smartly, I finished up and only had my ‘to go’ bags left in the house. I decided to warm up the car in that frozen tundra and received a blow that can only be described as the curse of the Scottish Hag I often write about who cursed my lineage in the most day to day way as to make it more unbearable coupled with the larger losses. THE WATER PUMP WAS OUT ON THE CAR! I knew enough about cars to diagnose that…

I lost it… I went in the house, called my Mom crying and told her what had happened. She said “Don’t worry, I sent them to get you.”. I asked her who, and she said she’d sent my dad and my older sister and they should be there any time. WTF? Only my mom… Within an hour or so, my dad and sister arrived and I felt safe for the first time since leaving my home in the U.S. We laughed, I stopped crying, and the sun came out! Shortly after that, for some still unknown reason to this day, hateful came home for lunch as he NEVER did. He saw the other car, started to get mad and loud, then realized he had made a mistake….

My dad, an old school mechanic and ‘Convoy” type trucker, walked out of the house with hair and eyes just as dark as his, with the same gleam of mischief in them that could turn to fire in the span of a second, and went over to hateful and quietly said some things he never told me, but hateful didn’t say another word, got in his car, and was never seen again!

On the plus side, my dad being the smoky of a bandit type, rigged up my car and assured me it would get across the border and after that it didn’t matter. He owned a car lot, had tow trucks, dollies, etc. and had a right hand man he often sent out on such valuable missions….

I will never, ever forget the feeling of sitting in a line at the U.S. border waiting to go HOME with Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA” blasting inappropriately loud on my awesome, blue, gigantic station wagon’s kickass stereo and speakers!!

I still can’t hear that song without tearing up…. Thank you, Lee Greenwood!! You are Loved!

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