Thursday - What's In A Name?
Sep. 7th, 2006 03:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking about my friend Joy and remembering the time I spoke with her ex on the phone. I would bet he still remembers talking to me, even though he never learned my name. This is fine, since he gave me a new name during the conversation.
I met Aaron only once, when he visited Joy at the Toll Road Authority with their newborn daughter shortly after she got back from maternity leave. I disliked him the moment I saw him. I though that he had the cold, distant eyes of a sociopath. Joy let me hold the baby for a moment that day and introduced us, but Aaron barely glanced at me. If he'd known what would happen the next time we talked, he would have made note of my full name and no doubt an additional future restraining order would have been filed against him.
After Aaron left that day, I told Joy she should leave him. "He doesn't love you," I said.
Her jaw dropped open. "Oh my God, girl! You could tell that from just meeting him?"
I could, but it wasn't because I was psychic. Coldness emanated from him like a block of ice, and anyone standing close could feel it. Joy admitted that she didn't love him, either. As the weeks went by and I got to know her better, I learned he was abusive and cruel and that their relationship was based on his power and control over her. A lot of us at work encouraged her to get away from him.
Finally, she did. One day he stepped into the bathroom to take a shower and told her that when he got out, he would "show her who the man in that house was." I suppose he liked to feel fresh and clean before he slapped his woman around. While he bathed, Joy packed up everything she could carry in her arms, grabbed the baby, got in her car and drove away. Since Aaron had told her he would kill her if she ever left him, she filed for a restraining order and the court granted it.
Aaron had a hard time understanding what "no direct contact" in the restraining order meant. He wrote a couple of long, rambling letters to Joy and sent them to her at the office. She didn't read them, but she let me. In them, he told her he loved her and missed her. He told her to "stop joking around" and come home. He told her he missed her and their 6-month-old daughter and that he longed for them to be a family again.
He called daily, but the receptionist never put him through. He left messages by the dozens. Because he never spoke to Joy, the calls didn't count as violations against the restraining order. The 2 letters did, but he needed 3 violations before they would issue a warrant for his arrest.
The final time he called, the receptionist put him on hold while I searched for Joy. I told her she needed to talk to Aaron just once, to make the 3rd strike against him. She started to shake and said she just couldn't do it. I agreed to talk to him for her. The receptionist transferred the call to my desk.
"Is this Aaron?" I asked.
"Yeah, who's this?" the angry voice on the other end of the line asked.
I smiled. It's important to smile when you talk on the phone. A person can hear a smile in your voice. By this time, I loved Joy as much as I have ever loved any friend. She is a sweet person, kind and a fun to be around. I hated Aaron for the hell he continued to put her through each time he called.
"I'm a friend of Joy's," I told him, "You don't need to know my name."
"Where is she?"
"She doesn't want to talk to you," I said. "She wants you to stop calling her."
Because my voice is so high and childlike, I had it lowered a few octaves and spoke in what my friends call my "phone sex" voice. I thought it important that I sound like an adult in order for him to take me seriously, and the phone-sex voice is the only adult-sounding voice that I have. The seductive tone was not the first one I would have chosen if I'd had another, but the effect was a sort of mocking purr that I could tell irritated him.
"Is this Karen? Susan? Lori? Who is this?" He was running through names of women that Joy had mentioned from the Authority, but he never said mine. When Joy introduced me to him, I looked harmless and I guess he forgot it immediately.
"Aaron, you don't know me. Joy wants me to tell you that if she does speak to you, a warrant will be issued for your arrest because you will be in violation of the restraining order. Please don't call her here again."
I learned from growing up with my own older brother that one thing you can do to anger a tyrant is to remain polite and calm while he loses control. Aaron found my calm tone, not to mention the smile he could hear in my voice, insulting. He let loose with a string of epithets.
"Sir, calm down," I purred over and over as he yelled and cursed into the phone. I held the power in the conversation. A woman had control over him. Not only did I not cry or back down, I laughed at him ever so softly each time I spoke. My phone-sex voice turned out to be perfect, for this was a mind fuck to him.
In the meanwhile, though I had closed the door to my office, someone had opened it and a small crowd gathered at the entryway. A coworker had told everyone that I was speaking to Aaron, and people came to listen. So much for keeping this conversation private.
Finally, Aaron had enough.
"Listen, Bitch," he shouted, "I just want to ask her about my daughter! I'm her father! I want to know how my daughter is doing!"
With the word bitch, something snapped inside of me. I don't like to be called names. At the very least, if someone is going to call me that, he ought to have a smile on him face when he says it. Aaron did not sound like he was smiling.
I am not one to negate the importance of a father in a child's life, but the job of a father entails more than a man passing on his DNA to an offspring. Aaron became a father by throwing away Joy's birth control pills: it was another way to control her. If Joy didn't consent to sex, he had it with her anyway. Every time he called her a name, every time he hit her, every time he made her cry, he taught his daughter that it was all right for a man to treat a woman like dirt. By isolating Joy from her family and friends, he kept their child from knowing the family and community that should have been her birthright. Hearing him claim the rights of a father didn't sit very well with me.
"Sir," I said, "You aren't a father. You're just a sperm donor." This time, I wasn't smiling, but my voice was still cool and still in control.
I guess I hit a sensitive spot. The next thing I knew, I had to hold the phone at arm's length because he was shouting so loud.
At that moment, the constable in charge of security walked into the room and motioned with his fingers for me to hand him the handset. He told Aaron that he was speaking to a police officer at that point, and the shouting on the phone grew quiet. Aaron’s relations with the police had never been agreeable. The constable told Aaron that if he called again it would be considered harassing a government office. He then hung up the phone. This annoyed me a little; I still had plenty of things that I wanted to say to Aaron.
Later, I describe the phone call to Joy and told her what Aaron said to me that made me so angry.
"Really?" she asked, "It made you that mad when he called you a bitch?"
I told her it did.
Joy laughed. She has a beautiful laugh.
"That's too funny," she said, "It's a good thing I'm not that sensitive. Girl, when I was living with him, I thought bitch was my name!"
I flinched. "Well, it's not mine," I said.
Unless, I should have added, you know me very well. Even then, say it with a smile if you know what's good for you.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
I met Aaron only once, when he visited Joy at the Toll Road Authority with their newborn daughter shortly after she got back from maternity leave. I disliked him the moment I saw him. I though that he had the cold, distant eyes of a sociopath. Joy let me hold the baby for a moment that day and introduced us, but Aaron barely glanced at me. If he'd known what would happen the next time we talked, he would have made note of my full name and no doubt an additional future restraining order would have been filed against him.
After Aaron left that day, I told Joy she should leave him. "He doesn't love you," I said.
Her jaw dropped open. "Oh my God, girl! You could tell that from just meeting him?"
I could, but it wasn't because I was psychic. Coldness emanated from him like a block of ice, and anyone standing close could feel it. Joy admitted that she didn't love him, either. As the weeks went by and I got to know her better, I learned he was abusive and cruel and that their relationship was based on his power and control over her. A lot of us at work encouraged her to get away from him.
Finally, she did. One day he stepped into the bathroom to take a shower and told her that when he got out, he would "show her who the man in that house was." I suppose he liked to feel fresh and clean before he slapped his woman around. While he bathed, Joy packed up everything she could carry in her arms, grabbed the baby, got in her car and drove away. Since Aaron had told her he would kill her if she ever left him, she filed for a restraining order and the court granted it.
Aaron had a hard time understanding what "no direct contact" in the restraining order meant. He wrote a couple of long, rambling letters to Joy and sent them to her at the office. She didn't read them, but she let me. In them, he told her he loved her and missed her. He told her to "stop joking around" and come home. He told her he missed her and their 6-month-old daughter and that he longed for them to be a family again.
He called daily, but the receptionist never put him through. He left messages by the dozens. Because he never spoke to Joy, the calls didn't count as violations against the restraining order. The 2 letters did, but he needed 3 violations before they would issue a warrant for his arrest.
The final time he called, the receptionist put him on hold while I searched for Joy. I told her she needed to talk to Aaron just once, to make the 3rd strike against him. She started to shake and said she just couldn't do it. I agreed to talk to him for her. The receptionist transferred the call to my desk.
"Is this Aaron?" I asked.
"Yeah, who's this?" the angry voice on the other end of the line asked.
I smiled. It's important to smile when you talk on the phone. A person can hear a smile in your voice. By this time, I loved Joy as much as I have ever loved any friend. She is a sweet person, kind and a fun to be around. I hated Aaron for the hell he continued to put her through each time he called.
"I'm a friend of Joy's," I told him, "You don't need to know my name."
"Where is she?"
"She doesn't want to talk to you," I said. "She wants you to stop calling her."
Because my voice is so high and childlike, I had it lowered a few octaves and spoke in what my friends call my "phone sex" voice. I thought it important that I sound like an adult in order for him to take me seriously, and the phone-sex voice is the only adult-sounding voice that I have. The seductive tone was not the first one I would have chosen if I'd had another, but the effect was a sort of mocking purr that I could tell irritated him.
"Is this Karen? Susan? Lori? Who is this?" He was running through names of women that Joy had mentioned from the Authority, but he never said mine. When Joy introduced me to him, I looked harmless and I guess he forgot it immediately.
"Aaron, you don't know me. Joy wants me to tell you that if she does speak to you, a warrant will be issued for your arrest because you will be in violation of the restraining order. Please don't call her here again."
I learned from growing up with my own older brother that one thing you can do to anger a tyrant is to remain polite and calm while he loses control. Aaron found my calm tone, not to mention the smile he could hear in my voice, insulting. He let loose with a string of epithets.
"Sir, calm down," I purred over and over as he yelled and cursed into the phone. I held the power in the conversation. A woman had control over him. Not only did I not cry or back down, I laughed at him ever so softly each time I spoke. My phone-sex voice turned out to be perfect, for this was a mind fuck to him.
In the meanwhile, though I had closed the door to my office, someone had opened it and a small crowd gathered at the entryway. A coworker had told everyone that I was speaking to Aaron, and people came to listen. So much for keeping this conversation private.
Finally, Aaron had enough.
"Listen, Bitch," he shouted, "I just want to ask her about my daughter! I'm her father! I want to know how my daughter is doing!"
With the word bitch, something snapped inside of me. I don't like to be called names. At the very least, if someone is going to call me that, he ought to have a smile on him face when he says it. Aaron did not sound like he was smiling.
I am not one to negate the importance of a father in a child's life, but the job of a father entails more than a man passing on his DNA to an offspring. Aaron became a father by throwing away Joy's birth control pills: it was another way to control her. If Joy didn't consent to sex, he had it with her anyway. Every time he called her a name, every time he hit her, every time he made her cry, he taught his daughter that it was all right for a man to treat a woman like dirt. By isolating Joy from her family and friends, he kept their child from knowing the family and community that should have been her birthright. Hearing him claim the rights of a father didn't sit very well with me.
"Sir," I said, "You aren't a father. You're just a sperm donor." This time, I wasn't smiling, but my voice was still cool and still in control.
I guess I hit a sensitive spot. The next thing I knew, I had to hold the phone at arm's length because he was shouting so loud.
At that moment, the constable in charge of security walked into the room and motioned with his fingers for me to hand him the handset. He told Aaron that he was speaking to a police officer at that point, and the shouting on the phone grew quiet. Aaron’s relations with the police had never been agreeable. The constable told Aaron that if he called again it would be considered harassing a government office. He then hung up the phone. This annoyed me a little; I still had plenty of things that I wanted to say to Aaron.
Later, I describe the phone call to Joy and told her what Aaron said to me that made me so angry.
"Really?" she asked, "It made you that mad when he called you a bitch?"
I told her it did.
Joy laughed. She has a beautiful laugh.
"That's too funny," she said, "It's a good thing I'm not that sensitive. Girl, when I was living with him, I thought bitch was my name!"
I flinched. "Well, it's not mine," I said.
Unless, I should have added, you know me very well. Even then, say it with a smile if you know what's good for you.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-09-07 09:27 pm (UTC)Shows a tremendous depth of character on your part.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-07 09:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-07 10:00 pm (UTC)That has to be the saddest thing I've read in a quite a while. ::shakes head::
no subject
Date: 2006-09-07 10:24 pm (UTC)The epilogue is that she has a fiance these days who worships the ground she walks on, and she doesn't have to answer to any ugly names anymore. It took her a while to move on, but she's done it. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-09-08 02:03 am (UTC)How is Joy's daughter?
no subject
Date: 2006-09-08 06:59 pm (UTC)Thank you for the followup
Date: 2006-09-08 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-07 10:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-08 06:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-08 07:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-08 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-08 09:50 am (UTC)I hate men who abuse women -their women. In general, I hate all those people who abuse others who are physically weaker than them. It's the supreme coward and cruel act.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-08 07:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-08 03:35 pm (UTC)thanks for shaking me up. you're a fantastic friend. hopefully Joy recognizes this.
oh and i'm so glad to hear that this has a happy ending/beginning for Joy. I'm still waiting and working towards mine
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2006-09-08 07:12 pm (UTC)Joy lives 3 states away from me now; she left Texas before the restraining order expired. We still keep in touch, but I haven't seen her in years.
The happy ending can take time - don't give up on it. The 6-month-old baby in this story is now an 8 year old girl. It took a few years for Joy to build up her confidence and trust again, and she hit a few bumps along the way. She did make it, though, and you can too. Hang in there!
(*hugs*)
no subject
Date: 2006-09-09 06:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-09 06:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-13 07:19 pm (UTC)