Chapter 21

The Shelter was a shortened version of its full name: The Shelter for Abused and Battered Souls. Prior to that, its name was The Shelter for Abused and Battered Women. In 1994, Leroy Bobo changed all that. He was picked up at the hospital with three broken ribs thanks to a drunk and bitter ex-wife. Leroy stayed at the shelter for two weeks, sending the nuns into a frenzy trying to rearrange the dorms, bathrooms, and common areas. Sarah had a migraine every night, but eventually viewed Leroy as a learning experience.

“Ultimately,” she told me at the time, “male victims will be commonplace as women confuse gender roles and grow more abusive.”

I would have argued with her, but I had to go kill someone.


The Shelter’s secret location was north of Plant City and Sarah gave me verbal directions, making me promise never to repeat them. Very few people were allowed to drive on to the property. The battered souls got picked up at the police station after filing a complaint against their abuser and were urged to keep the location a secret. Since most were afraid for their lives, they had no problem complying with the request.

I dug out a simple dress from the closet and threw my mane into a ponytail. For most of my vacation, I lounged around in shorts and t-shirts. It felt good to put on some nice clothes and bit of makeup. On my way out the door, I stopped by the hallway mirror to make sure I looked presentable.

“Good as new,” I said.

The dress was a bit snug. It confirmed what I had already suspected; tennis once a week cannot reverse four nights of Bo’s ice cream and must-see TV.


Trying to get into The Shelter was a pain in the ass. After driving through a security post, answering questions from the local fuzz, and dealing with a pat down that felt like foreplay, I felt the need to call Israel. They could learn a thing or two from Barney Fife and his crew in Podunk, Florida. Upon entering, even more invasive was the secretary’s attitude.

Frankie was rude and I could see why Sarah called her Frankenstein. She wore a frosted beehive and enough makeup for twelve old maids.

“Can I help you?” she barked at me.

“I’d like a room with an ocean view.”

I tried to giggle, but Frankie looked annoyed and picked at a peanut wedged between her front teeth.

“Sarah around?” I asked.

“Who?”

“Sister Mary Catherine. Is she available?”

Sarah had to pick a nun name when she graduated because Sister Sarah didn’t sound dignified. She chose her two favorite female saints and voila, Sister Mary Catherine was born.

Frankie looked me up and down.

“I have no idea,” she said.

It was my turn to be annoyed.

“Be a peach and page her for me,” I said.

I walked around the lobby while Frankie sighed and did her job. I wanted to tell her to brush her teeth, but decided that ignoring the beast was best.

The couches were clean but I didn’t feel comfortable sitting down. A friend in Europe once told me that whenever her dog pissed on the couch, or whenever her kid puked on it, she donated the sofa to charity. I didn’t want to sit there rubbing up against bodily waste. I did enough of that at work.

The lobby’s walls were the color of Pepto Bismol and Enya played softly from the loudspeaker. Photographs of local celebrities and politicians were displayed on the Wall of Founders. Their smiling photographs looked ridiculous in such a somber environment. Under each picture was a small plaque expressing gratitude for the founder’s financial sacrifice. Mine was the second one from the left and it read: Thank You Anonymous Founder for keeping us safe tonight.

It appeared that I was the only founder who didn’t want to be named or photographed.

“You made it.” Sarah surprised me, walking through two gray double-doors. “What do you think? Money well spent?”

“Your secretary is scary and the color in here gives me gas pains,” I replied. “Other than that, it’s perfect.”

“Come on.” Sarah led me into the building.

I toured the souls’ sleeping quarters, kitchen area, playrooms and offices. There was an effort to make the place comfortable. Cozy furniture, toys, stuffed animals, and kids’ drawings were even taped to the refrigerator.

We walked outside to look at the large backyard where a few kids played on the swings.

“I can see why these women feel comfortable here,” I whispered. “It must remind them of their trailer.”

I told myself to lighten up. I was in what Sally used to call, a “mean mood”.
We walked around the back area and into one of the conference rooms. Five women sat around a large table nibbling at food placed in the center. The offerings included doughnuts, bagels, and coffee. I noticed fruit and helped myself to a plate. When I sat down among the women, Sarah introduced me.

“This is my good friend, Olivia,” she said. “Olivia is also one of the founders. I told you about her a few days ago and you agreed that she could join us.”

“Thanks for having me,” I said.

“Why don’t we go around the table and open up the discussion?” Sarah asked. “Brenda, will you please get it started?”

A heavyset girl nodded.

“My name is Brenda.” Her loud and boisterous tone surprised me. “Should I talk about why I’m here?”

Sarah nodded.

“If you feel up to it,” she said.

“I’m fine with talking about my situation,” Brenda said. “My boyfriend started hitting me when we moved in together a few months back. I tried to break up with him, but he’d apologize and I’d go back with him. After a few times, my mother stopped letting me come home. She thinks the whole situation is miserable.”
I looked around the table. Sad women looked at each other knowingly and nodded.

Brenda continued.

“It’s hard for my mother to understand what I’m going through. She’s been a size four her whole life. It’s not so easy for me to find a good man. Anyway, this is my second time here and I’m not sure if I’ll go back to Scott this time or not. We’ll see if he starts therapy.”

Brenda got out a cigarette and put it on the table in front of her. I wanted to ask her for one, but thought better of it.

“My name is Barbara,” said the woman sitting next to Brenda.

Barbara was pretty, with long red hair and a pale, freckled face. She seemed scared, like she might cry any moment.

“This is my first time here.” Barbara sniffled. “I’m thirty-eight and have been married for ten years. We have four children. Rick started beating me when we were engaged. When it first happened, I threw my diamond at him and called off the wedding. I believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again and we got married. Halfway through my first pregnancy, he threw me down a flight of stairs.”

I swallowed hard and looked around the room. No one seemed overly interested in Barbara’s story, but the room remained quiet. Sarah nodded appropriately and took notes.

“Funny thing is,” Barbara continued, “I’ve gotten used to the beatings. They don’t even bother me all that much, but recently I’ve begun to suspect that he is sexually abusing our two daughters. Neither of the girls want to be alone with him so one night after he beat me up, I had him arrested. He’s threatened to kill me so that’s why we’re here.”

There was a long pause and I could hear birds chirping outside the window.
“That’s why most of us are here,” another woman said.

“Kelly,” Sarah said, “why don’t you go next?”

“I’m nineteen and have been married for two years,” the young girl said.

Kelly had black hair with bangs in her eyes and bright red lipstick that contrasted sharply with her pale skin. She picked at a scab on her arm with nails painted dark purple.

“In my neck of the woods,” she said, “you get married right out of high school. Next month when my divorce is final, I can’t even have a beer to celebrate. Can you believe that? I’m old enough to bind my life to another for eternity, but not old enough to down a bottle when that realization hits me. My soon-to-be ex is an asshole. I got sick of being punched all the time so I busted his ass.”

Her profanity seemed out of place in the quiet room, but no one seemed shocked. Perhaps they were beyond the point where anything surprised them. Either that, or they were used to her.

“I hope he rots in jail.” Kelly giggled. “I’m never going back to him.”

“Okay,” Sarah said. “Allison?”

Allison, seated next to Kelly, shook her head and looked away.

“Okay Allison, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Sarah said. “Camille?”

A woman with grey hair and a worn face tried to smile.

“I am an old woman and don’t really belong here.” Camille had a thick German accent. “I was visiting my children when I decided to leave my husband of thirty-five years, God forgive me. I see how my daughters live, so free and happy. They tell me maybe it’s not too late. My husband follows me to the states and starts to threaten me. I have him arrested, God forgive me. He told my daughter that when he gets out, he’d go back home. Then I will leave here.”

When the women spoke, I tried to go along with the vibe of the room. I’m sure I looked as stimulated as a comatose patient. Sarah said it was important to look neutral so I wore the same expression I’d wear at a Yanni concert. It wasn’t easy, I almost laughed out loud when Camille tried to pronounce arrested.

“Okay.” Sarah got down to business. “Yesterday we were talking about Barbara’s kids and their relationship with her husband.”

“I thought we finished that discussion,” Kelly said, looking at Barbara.

“Rick’s lawyer called my lawyer twice this week demanding to see them,” Barbara replied. “My lawyer says we should allow it.”

“Why?” Kelly asked. “You’ve caught him doing drugs in front of your kids; he’s been beating you for years and your oldest daughter recoils at the mere mention of him. You should fight to the death to keep him away from your girls.”

“It’s not that easy,” Barbara replied, defensively. “He’s their father.”

“Bullshit,” Kelly snorted. “There is more to being a father than ejaculating.”

“Is that kind of talk acceptable?” Camille asked.

“Sometimes,” Sarah said. “It’s okay to be apprehensive, Barbara. Fighting is scary.”

“And expensive,” Barbara added.

“You need to find out if Rick is a sex offender and he should probably complete a drug rehabilitation program before he gets to play daddy again,” Kelly said with authority.

“That’s easier said than done, Kelly,” Brenda said, joining in. “I had a friend once—”

“Why the obsession with effortless solutions?” Kelly asked, visibly irritated. “You all are constantly telling me how things aren’t easy. Doing the right thing isn’t always easy otherwise people wouldn’t do the wrong thing so often. Barbara, if you’re looking for sympathy, you’re not going to get it from me. I’d pick what’s best for your kids over what’s easy for you any day.”

“Don’t attack her,” Brenda said. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

“No one understands what I’m going through,” Barbara said. “Between the divorce, my issues with the girls, and trying to keep my head above water at work, I’m almost at the end of my rope. Peg and Rachel have stopped talking to me because they resent being dragged away from their friends. Now Rick is threatening to sue me for custody if I don’t let him see them. What should I do? I don’t know if I can handle all this pressure. My teaching job is suffering, I’m on anti-depressants and they aren’t that effective anymore. I am handling too much for one person.”

I shifted in my seat.

“We’re all on a journey,” Allison finally said, barely above a whisper. “You aren’t doing anything wrong; our questions are valid and will be answered as long as we remain open and receptive. Let’s confront our future together.”

I immediately disliked Allison. Her singsong voice and dreamy stare were too much for me. I figured somewhere there was a group of patchouli-smelling, crystal-wearing, positive-thinking, green tea-drinking dipshits who were missing their goddess.

“Let’s refrain from attacking one another,” Allison continued. “We shouldn’t judge. Let’s help each other on our journeys toward one-ness.”

Everyone nodded and Sarah smiled as their collective mood improved. Allison passed out affirmatives to each of us. Mine said: Hope is contagious. Pass it on.

I tried not to sneer as relief rolled through the room. A support group could be an excellent opportunity to look inside, yet the last thing these women wanted to do was confront the role they were playing in their own demise. Allison provided an easy way out and Kelly was the only one not buying her bullshit. Allison grabbed a tissue and wiped away Barbara’s tears, still whispering in her ear.

“What do you think you’re going to do?” Sarah asked Barbara.

“Get through this one day at a time,” Barbara replied.

Brenda and Allison clapped while Camille mumbled something in German. Kelly looked away.

“How are you doing, Brenda?” Sarah asked.

“I worked about sixty hours at the hotel and put on another two pounds,” she said, biting into her second doughnut. “I did cut back to a pack of cigarettes so that’s gotta count for something.”

Allison softly clapped. I fought the urge to stuff my affirmative up her ass.

“Did you get to the gym at all?” Sarah asked.

Brenda shook her head.

“They stare at me,” she looked down at the table.

“Come on,” Kelly said.

“The exercise Nazis only accepted my membership so they wouldn’t get brought up on discrimination charges,” Brenda said. “Even the receptionists are in awesome shape. I always get assigned to the broken machine in the corner and they look at me with disgust every time I walk in the door.”

“You’re not that fat,” Kelly said.

“I can feel their eyes on me and I don’t know what to do.”

Put down the goddamn doughnut.

“No one will help me with the machines,” Brenda continued, “and I’m too embarrassed to ask. I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, I forgot to pay that bill and I don’t need them yelling at me. I have it rough enough, getting yelled at all day at work.”

Brenda reached over for another doughnut and I almost asked her to consider a fruit cup. The words got caught in my throat as I forced them back down. The result sounded like a choke and with Sarah’s disapproval, I reached for a sip of water.

Kelly shook her head again and looked away.

“Did you speak with Scott?” Sarah asked Brenda.

Brenda’s mouth was full so she looked down again and nodded.

“He’s been seeing a counselor since he got out,” she said, after swallowing her doughnut and pride. “He sounds like a new man.”

“Really?” Kelly asked, sarcastically.

“I’m not getting my hopes up, though. We’ll see what happens this time.”

“Why are you even talking to him?” Kelly read my mind.

“He’s a human being, Kelly,” Brenda replied. “I can’t just give him up completely. He seems truly sorry.”

“They always seem like that,” Camille said. “Then they have their way with you and pretty soon, it’s all back to normal.”

“I think you’re nuts, Brenda,” Kelly said.

“It’s not easy getting a man when you’re as fat as I am,” Brenda replied.

“There’s that word again,” Kelly said. “Life ain’t easy. Why search for that kind of ending when it’ll only bring you frustration and grief? Scott is the same man who called you a ‘dumb bitch’ in front of your family! Didn’t he make you get an abortion two months ago? Haven’t you seen him hit his own mother? Why do I have to remind you people of all the reasons these ideas won’t work?”

“Kelly, enough,” Allison said. “These meetings were much better before you got here.”

“Bite me,” Kelly said. “What the hell do you know? You’ve been back to your husband eight times over the last few years! How are you enjoying your journey?”

Camille put her head on the table.

“Kelly,” Sarah said, “how is this productive?”

“These meetings aren’t productive,” Kelly responded. “I understand you’re a facilitator, but someone needs to shake things up in here. Who was the voice of reason before I arrived?”

“Can I get everyone to pause for a moment of silence?” Allison asked.

If that crazy bitch started to chant like those monks in Tibet, I was out of there.

“Allison needs complete silence to concentrate when she takes her Xanax,” Kelly explained to me. “Otherwise she gets flustered, the pills get stuck in her throat, and she chokes on them.”

Sarah begged me with her eyes not to say anything. I took a deep breath and thought maybe it best to let Kelly talk for me. At least she was making sense.

“You guys aren’t getting it,” Kelly continued after Allison finished swallowing.
“Men never change. They are all oppressors inside and it’s only a matter of time before that part of them comes out. They can’t help it. It’s their nature to deceive.”

What happened? I turned to Kelly with my mouth wide open and almost slapped her. Was everyone in the room bananas?

“Are you crazy?” Brenda asked her.

For once, I agreed with the fat chick.

“Who commits most of the crimes in this world?” Kelly asked. “Men! Who runs most of the businesses that are polluting our environment and turning our country into a consumer state? Men! Who runs the religions and governments that are responsible for most of the wars of the world? Men! They are ruining our Earth, our community and our lives.”

Kelly sounded like she was running for office.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Brenda said. “Isn’t it convenient that you recently discovered you’re a lesbian.”

“Women are superior beings because we don’t hurt one another,” Kelly said.

That was it for me. I couldn’t stay in my seat another moment. I left the room and quickly walked out into the hall, looking around for a garbage can. Grabbing one, I threw up and then got out of the building.

I needed some air.