Rich in Love: When God Rescues Messy People by Irene Garcia, Lissa Halls Johnson Read Free Book Online

traveling on weekends. And it meant drinking, because drinking was an expected part of life in that world.
    Our second son arrived a few days after I finished cosmetology school. I was glad Domingo was allowed to be in the delivery room with me this time. The excitement and joy when they laid Vincent next to me in that warm blanket were no less than I had felt with our first boy. I looked into this little boy’s face and felt complete. I loved being a mom. And even with all the garbage between us, I knew Domingo’s best role was as a dad.
    In the course of three weeks I finished cosmetology school, had a baby, took my test, got my license, and landed a job at a decent salon. Then, when we were barely nineteen, we bought our first house—which surprised many family and friends. They couldn’t believe we were able to do something so important when we were still so young.
    Staying home and working on our house gave us both a powerful sense of pleasure. Domingo wasn’t going out as much. We now had two beautiful boys who ran around and rode their bikes while Domingo mowed the lawn. Vincent adored being with his dad and seemed to be attached to his hip. In his little admiring eyes, his daddy could do no wrong. There was nothing more heartwarming than watching Domingo interact and play with his boys. When things got rough between us, I reminded myself what an excellent dad he was. I don’t know why this soothed my heart and gave me hope, but it did.
    As for me, these two little guys owned my heart. Every day with them was an adventure I looked forward to. They were so well behaved in public, such little gentlemen. But once they were home, their curiosity got them into much mischief. They especially liked to take things apart but weren’t quite as adept at putting them back together.
     
    Life at home could be really good at times. We’d visit family or go to the park. We went to the drive-in movies so the boys could be with us as much as possible. On the outside we looked like a normal, happy family, and there were moments I could almost feel like we were. But I had an odd split inside me. I resented my husband. I really did. And yet my heart melted when we went to the park and I watched him play with our sons. For those brief moments I could believe that we were a good family and Domingo was a good man. During those special times I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was getting really good at pretending. But my little fantasies didn’t last. It wasn’t more than a few days before the results of Domingo’s alcoholism shattered them. No one knew the truth about the violence, but as often as he came after me, he never, ever, laid a hand on his sons. But Domingo’s drinking had become obvious to my family, and our friends saw enough that they wondered how we stayed married.
    Eventually Domingo got involved in building engines for the boat-racing circuit and started drinking more heavily. He was gone frequently, including most weekends, usually leaving the boys and me behind. I certainly didn’t mind. I preferred it. It gave me a chance to breathe and have a break from the results of his drinking.
    Our fights reminded me of birth pangs—they were getting stronger and closer together and were almost always physical. A rage built inside me, and at times I couldn’t contain it. I was making good money at the salon, which gave me a sense of independence. I started thinking I could make it on my own. As far as I was concerned, it was only a matter of time before I would be out from under him and his controlling ways.

chapter 4
    the struggle
    When I first started working as a hairstylist, a shampoo and set cost three dollars and fifty cents. Within two years, I moved to a large corporate salon and quickly achieved my goal of becoming a master stylist. At the same time, our country was going through some big changes. The feminist movement began. I learned about women’s rights—that life could be much different from what