When the Past Returns

Till Death do us Part

Getting married is a day every girl looks forward to. They plan their wedding day since they turn the age of 5. I did. That is until I overheard my parents, Mary and Robert Cobb, talking to their friends, Tiffany and Wilfred Garcia.

See, I grew up thinking I could travel and see the world and different cultures then finally settle down and have kids when I was ready. My parents had different plans. Their close friends, the Garcia's, and them decided to set up an arranged marriage for their 20 year older son and I. He was born in 1938 while I was born in 1958. I was 17 when I met him and that night was a very bad night.

My father took out to lunch on a bright Saturday. I remember an older gentleman and his son coming up to our table booth and talking to my father. They seemed friendly but I stayed quiet until I was introduced. "Wilfred, this is my daughter, Abigail. Abigail, this a fried of mine and your mother's, Wilfred. And that's his son, David." My father had said. By the time we ordered and finished our food, it began to rain and we had to get home. I ran from the diner doorway to our car and waiting to get in.

From there I can only remember bits and pieces. Getting home, hearing that my big brother was killed, going for a drive, and going over a cliff. Because I loved my father, I didn't think he was trying to kill us. My mother died and my grandparents took my little sister into their custody. I stayed with my father because I said he needed me. He didn't talk till I turned 19. He didn't know I knew of this arranged marriage, so he told me who I was to marry. I had two weeks to know the man more before we wed. David Garcia was to hold my hands before the alter and speak his vows. To tell me he'd love me. Till death do us part.

After our wedding, he picked out everything, we moved from Atlanta, Georgia to Los Angeles, California. We were married for two and a half years before his parents wanted grand kids. He told me he couldn't tell them no so we tried many times for a baby. I was miserable. It had become a routine for two months before I finally told him we needed to be checked. The doctors told us we were able to have kids and that we should just continuously try. They also mentioned adoption. I agreed on the idea, but when the votes were three against one, you don't get your way.

In 1981, I left the house for a while. I went down to Whiskey A Go Go and watched a band called Mötley Crüe perform. The band consisted of four skinny guys in leather. They were all pretty attractive and their music wasn't bad.

They ordered drinks and I introduced myself to them. We talked for two hours before I bid my farewells. I returned home to find it in a complete disaster and was greeted with a slap to my face and my hair pulled. David had thrown me on the ground, yelling at me about leaving his house. That I was his property and I had to let him aware that I was leaving even for a minute. I had punched him a few times and I found that it was a big mistake to do.

He had apologized for months and his parents made me forgive them. It was 1988 and we still didn't have a child. I become good friends with the guys from Mötley Crüe and watched their downfalls. Nikki died twice from overdoses, Vince had alcohol problems, Tommy was doing drugs, and Mick had problems of his own. But they all let me know they'd be there for me. After telling them my problems with David, I remember getting drunk with them then going out to the strip and having a good time. They took me back home.