Journey For Peace

Journey For Peace

by Orville Lloyd Douglas

Chapter Three

Sex is unbearable and disgusting! Every single damn time
Reginald
touches me I just want to vomit! Every second he moans and sighs I die
inside! I want him to hurry up and get off of me. Last night was no
different especially when he
ejaculated on to my silk nightgown and then he doesn't even apologize.
All we do
is have sex in the missionary position while I fake orgasms.

I hate the feeling of his penis
penetrating inside of me the pain is unbearable. Every time he sighs I
just want to pass out. I make suggestions like "not tonight dear" and
he still comes on to me. I am afraid he will rape me if I refuse his
advances! I am being assaulted when we
have sex. The way Reginald glares at me with his wolf like brown eyes
and then he pushes
his penis and penetrates deep inside of me saying "do you like that
baby" with a sly grin
on his face.

There is no love between us only misery and unhappiness. Last year
I
threatened to leave Reginald and he promised me he would change. Things
were starting
to get better until the stress of his job caused him to become
depressed and impotent. He
has been taking medication to correct the problem yet he will not see a
sex therapist.

I cringe and grimace when we kiss or touches me. I feel nothing. The
grief I feel is the
real it an acknowledgement that my marriage has fallen apart. There is
no hope for
the inevitable. I can't keep on going like this. Alex is almost
finished high school
he's old enough to understand that no marriage lasts forever. Marriage
is only
a piece of paper it has no meaning or value. The last twenty years have
been a large
part of my life that has been lost. I look at old photographs in the
living room and
the pictures are lies hiding the deceit. We have never been happy nor
will we ever be.

What is happiness anyway? I don't know the feeling of contentment only
of resentment.
I resent the fact that I am living with a man that doesn't love me
anymore. I detest that
I have a unstable son that believes he is a homosexual. I have no
support! I am isolated!

What sane person would want to be in my place right now? Who would want
to
understand my pain and the depths of despair I am going through. All I
see on the
television or in the press are these white people that say they love
their gay children.

How the hell does that relate to my life? Plenty of black people hate
fags and I am
one of them. Who the fuck would want their son to be a queer
anyway?

It's early morning and luckily I have the house to myself. Nothing
wakes me up
better then a warm cup of coffee with no sugar since I'm a diabetic. I
sit on the black
leather sofa staring at the brilliant sunshine that has risen over the
clouds this morning.

The grass is wet with dew. The earth is finally alive again after a
dormant and terrible
winter. The coffee soothes me and calms my nerves. It is so nice to
have the place to
myself . I unloosen my white night gown robe since the thermostat needs
to be
fixed. Reginald and I have been having arguments again about money
lately. It seems every few months the conversations turn to money. I
simply cannot take much more of this shit!

My life isn't going the way I want. I am becoming more
dissatisfied.
The girls at my workplace at the Aids Centre tell me to try talking to
Reginald. There is
No point talking to this man since he never listens to me. I can't
stand the sight of him!
He has ruined this family not Alex. My only child is so lost and
confused these days.

Honestly the gay nonsense Alex talks about is foolish. Why would a
young black man at
the age of eighteen choose to live this way? What point is there to
live and be scorned by
society. I have been shamed and disgraced. I also been having more
migraines due to the
stress I've been under. I just wish things were like the past when we
loved one another.

Now this house is cold as though we are all strangers forced to live
together. I don't even
look at Alex and Reginald anymore. Sometimes though I wonder what is
going on in their lives? There are so many secrets that have been
locked behind trapped doors in this family.

No one want to unlock the darkness and expose the truth. We only know
how to betray
one another.

I can't understand why I am married to Reginald. Why must I always
have to be the
one to submit to his sexual needs and desires? Whenever I ask him to
perform oral sex he refuses and I am left to feel humiliated and
embarrassed. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep as he lays there silently
next to me on the bed. I look am his robust overweight
figure and I can't believe this is the same man I married twenty years
ago. Where
is the man that satisfied my every need sexually and emotionally? When
will he admit
that our marriage is on the rocks! I am sick and tired of being the
good wife. I have needs
and I deserve to have pleasure as well.

Reginald ignores me and all he ever complains about is this murder
case and our
son Alex. I am terrified one day he will harm my only child. He talks
about my child
as though he is a criminal. Alex is just mentally ill since all gay
people are sick in some way. He deserves psychological treatment not an
ultimatum. No wonder

Alex always stays in his bedroom all day and hardly ever ventures
downstairs. Alex is
terrified of Reginald it's painfully obvious to see that they despise
one another.
Last night was an eye opener for me. Alex had always been a decent
student and now his
teacher Ms. Wellington says that he has been skipping class doing God
knows what.

I recall reading the newspaper the other day that the HIV infection
rate among young gay
men has dramatically gone up in the last couple of years. At the Aids
treatment Centre
where I work I often counsel some of these homosexual men with Aids and
I have
noticed how young these people are. Last week I had an appointment with
a young gay
boy that was black he looked just like my son except he was probably a
few years older.

I looked into his solemn brown eyes and stared at his gaunt face and I
saw his sadness. The poor thing looked emaciated as though he had
already died. Now at the Aids Centre more black, Asian, and Hispanic
men are becoming HIV positive. Everyday before I go to work I worry. I
do not want my baby to end up like this. Alex deserves better
then to end dead like these gay men. Why would anyone choose to live
such a lifestyle?

It is so sad what they go through and pay the ultimate price for their
behaviour.
The Aids crisis has been going on for over twenty years yet there are
some people that
refuse to listen. I hate my job. It's so frustrating at times listening
to these men talk
about their sob stories as though I am supposed to care or have
sympathy for them.

I only have apathy. I am not the most religious person but
homosexuality is wrong. I don't listen to those gay activists these
people waste their time worrying about being gay instead of tending to
the real issues that occur in life. The people that come to the Aids
treatment Centre don't give a fuck about same sex benefits or about gay
marriage. What these folks want is some reassurance that their lives
still matter. Only the rich upper crust gay white people seem to be
focused on this bizarre marriage idea. If they only knew the bullshit
that women go through in a marriage they wouldn't want the
responsibility.

Today is my Tuesday and I called in sick. Well one thing is for sure I
am sick
of this life I am living. It's a nice early April morning and I intend
to enjoy it.
The coffee certainly helped to relax me. I've gained a few pounds in
the last couple
of years and Reginald has reminded me of my weight gain. I tell him
he's fat as well and he
becomes angry. Why is it acceptable for men to be overweight and not
women. I am 5'4
and I weight 160 pounds I am not severely obese. I can still move and
function properly
despite not being thin. The more Reginald admonishes me about my size
the more likely I will eat. What's the point of trying to please him
anyway?

The last few years all Reginald has been concerned about is sex. When
he comes
home from a hard shift at the police station he says "Debbie come on
give me some
pussy." For Christ's sake it could be two o'clock in the morning it
doesn't matter to him. I pretend to fall asleep as stretches his greasy
hands and rubs my vagina as though that will stimulate me. I become
irritated and snore louder to stop his yet this fails. Next, Reginald
pulls me towards him and thrusts his mahood inside of me. I sometimes
push him and he only forces my face towards his and dips his tongue
down my throat. It is as though I am prey and he is the serpent. I cry
and he continues. I scream and he just laughs in my face.

" What's the matter with you woman you are a dumb bitch aren't you."
Reginald
snickers at me as I lay on the bed humiliated with his semen dripping
out of my mouth.

I become very angry whenever he forces me to perform oral sex. Reginald
is not a
very hygienic and I smell his foul odour when I lick his penis. It is
so repugnant
when he says " that's it baby lick my cock work it over." He uses the
same line
all the time like a broken record. I have put my foot down on anal sex.
I
sometimes refuse to be molested by him in that manner. Reginald
repeatedly asks for it
and I just give in.

Last week Reginald asked me if I wanted to engage in a m?nage a
trois.
I immediately refused this preposterous perverted idea. I am respected
in the
community no decent woman would let herself be violated by accepting
this offer.

It seems every night Reginald returns home his sexual fantasies and
ideas become
more disturbing and peculiar. He probably has sex with prostitutes for
free or something.
I don't mind if he's fucking a hooker as long as his needs are met. The
good thing is if
he's fucking a whore I don't have to worry about putting out. Sex would
become less
important for him and I would be content. I have no desire for him
anymore.

When I look at Reginald I only see a callous, cruel, and contemptuous
man that
is angry about his life. I loathe my life as well but I don't take it
out on anyone. I don't
punish anyone for the agony and despair that I endure everyday. There
is no peace here
for me.

I am not even hungry as I saunter into the kitchen. I insisted when
I
moved into the house that the house nor have any trees in the front
yard. I love the
sunshine it keeps me alive. Now I wonder why am I alive? Is there any
point that
I exist will all of this melancholy.

I've finished my tea and I place the blue mug into the sink. I am too
tired to wash it.
I grab the local newspaper off of the table and sit. Flipping through
the paper is like
visiting a morgue there is one depressing story after the next. On page
three there are
tales of a family dying in a fire or women being murdered by their
husbands. What's the point reading all of this doom? I stuff the paper
in the garbage.

I am in serious need of a therapist someone that I can vent to. Who
else can I turn to? I distressed and restless. I should be doing more
with my life then I am now. I don't think any woman would want to live
my life with all of this anguish. Perhaps I should
surf the internet to find a therapist this would be best.

The study quarters of the house is ornate as I open the French doors
that has been
custom crafted and made. There is a simple black chair and I sit on it
to relax. The walls
are a light white cream colour. Reginald's book shelf is stacked with
self help books he
had bought for me last Christmas. I am so infuriated that he wasted
hard earn money only to make me depressed. Why in the world would
anyone by his wife a book on weight loss during the holidays. It is
extremely insensitive and hurtful. I cried on Christmas day alone in my
bedroom as I saw the snowflakes descend by my window. I looked across
the street nd saw my neighbours the McDonalds bundling their two little
girls into the family's station wagon off to their relatives in
Oakville. The joy on their faces demonstrated to me life should be
cheerful on Christmas day. At our house all Reginald would do is belch
and fart at the dinner table. He always had deplorable table manners
but he was worse on this day. It was simply grotesque seeing this man
grab a plate full of food and pile more rice and turkey on to this
plate. My parents were supposed to come but I insisted that they stay
away. My folks hate Reginald as much as I do. I still don't know what
went wrong with
us maybe I'll never really know. I am still undecided if I want to go
through with this
marriage any longer. I feel guilty And I think of Alex. The poor boy is
going through so
much right now with his identity that I am sure this would crush him
completely.

No mother wants to have a gay son. I certainly didn't. I had hoped
Alex could
of made more out of his life. Instead my son skips school and likes to
play his damn
guitar. Every night I hear him strumming that guitar I wonder if he
actually thinks he'll
make it and become famous. Alex needs balance in his life he shouldn't
be wasting his
time thinking that he will make it in the music business it will never
happen. Alex has
always been a failure and now I regret the day that he was born. I
should of had a
miscarriage since anything would be better then to have a gay son. My
life has plunged
to the bottom of the barrel. Whenever I wake up in the morning I am
hoping it will be my
last. I return home from work to an ungrateful husband and a distant
son. What
hardworking decent woman would want to return home?

I knew Alex was gay and despite the fact that I was angry last
September I kind of
suspected he was different. When Alex was dating Sarah his former
girlfriend he never
talked about her at all whenever he returned home from dates. I recall
one night I was
making Caesar salad and he had walked to his bedroom.

" Alex how was our date with Sarah?" I inquired as I placed the salad
bowls

on the table.

"Mom nothing is going on between Sarah and me right now." He replied
coldly

as he shrugged his shoulders.

" You look so upset Alex is something wrong?" I asked.

" Mom I have problems you will never imagine or be able to
understand." Alex
said coldly as he walked out of the room as I stood there in silence
wondering what was
the meaning of his cryptic message. Unfortunately I now know the
horrible truth.
my son has become my worst nightmare.

Whenever I go to sleep I wake up with a cold sweat as my heartbeat
accelerates. I
am terrified of all of the diseases he could potentially encounter like
crabs, herpes, and of course Aids. I would simply die if Alex told he
was infected with HIV.