Tasting Chains

Part 1: John

     My husband, John, hates the HOA that he and I are in. More particularly, he hates the monthly board meetings. Attendance is not required, of course, but I like to cozy up to the board of directors. I drag my husband along because the other ladies bring their husbands, all of whom are equally uninterested in the contents of the meetings. We talk about the association's budget. The election of new directors. Voting on new amendments to the HOA's governing documents. Every. Single. Meeting. Attendance is actually quite mind-numbing. You can't blame my husband for dragging his feet and acting like a child throughout the entire ordeal. Every time we go, he tries to fabricate some outlandish lie in hopes that it will seem like an ample excuse. I politely allowed him to leave the first few times, but I have officially put my foot down. I won't let him leave no matter what excuse he's concocted. I even kept him in his chair when he was pleading to go see his sick aunt, Helen. She later died that night in hospice.

     John and I have our problems. But whose marriage is perfect? We fight. We bicker. I wouldn't say our marriage is abusive. Especially not physically. Verbally, however... I would say that I am hard on him sometimes. I am definitely the dominant link in our relationship. He's quite timid. His tendency to hesitate and fail to act is almost unattractive. I would never hit John. But I would never think to not yell at him. It's almost as if I need to drill confidence into him. Sometimes, I think my efforts are having the opposite effect.

     John was very outgoing when we were younger. I met him in college. He had this uncanny charisma that never failed to cheer me up. His personality was outright magnetic. I couldn't keep myself away from him.

     Come graduation, John was still as energetic as he was four years before. He and I had started dating before our second year. He and I made many fond memories in college. Every day, he would wake up, commit to 16 hours of confidence, brighten my day, and sleep. I was the shy one.

     He and I got married two years after we graduated. We traveled the world. His family loved me. My family loved him. We were two opposites whose match was practically made in Heaven. Unfortunately, an accident would destroy his character.

     He wasn't directly affected. Emotionally, definitely. But not physically. Both of his parents were murdered. His mom and dad were driving back home from a party. His dad was tipsy, but he insisted on driving. A cop pulled the swerving car off the road. The cop got out of the police car and walked in front of the driver's side window. He asked John's dad for his license and registration and continued to observe any indications of influence. He left John's dad off with a warning and returned to the police car.

     As he opened the door, another man hurriedly approached the police car. He smashed the officer's head against the glass and grabbed him by his collar. The man, later to be caught and convicted of murder, pulled a gun from his side and raised it to the back of the officer's head. The gunshot was loud and left a ringing in the man's ears. The bullet entered and exited the officer's head cleanly, spraying brain matter and spurts of blood all over and inside the police car.

     John's dad snapped back to reality. His wife was panicking. She was yelling at him to drive, and that she was dialing 9-1-1. John's dad looked in the mirror to see what was happening. The man appeared at John's window and tapped on the glass with the barrel of his pistol. John's dad stepped on the pedal in an effort to escape. The car unfortunately stalled long enough for the man to pull the trigger. John's mom gasped. The bullet lanced her husband's left eye and was caught by his skull. He slowly turned around to tell her to run, but only unintelligible gurgles of blood left his mouth. 

     John's mom fumbled for the door handle and threw herself out of the car. She ran away from the car as fast as she could. The man pointed the gun at John's mom as she sprinted away. He fired three bullets into her back. She bled out in agony.

  •  

     The man was later caught. John actually talked to him. He never found closure, though. The accident left John essentially mentally handicapped. He didn't receive as much of a scratch, but the John I have now is a scarred version of the one I knew in college. He's docile. Calm. Likes to keep to himself. He's still human. I still talk to him. But he's quiet. Unnervingly quiet. Because of this, I'm usually the one to make decisions around the house. And -- God dammit -- I'll be damned if he's the reason our HOA doesn't do one good God damn thing for our stretch of the neighborhood.