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

I had thought. I had choices! Imagine! A woman could do what she wanted without asking her husband! When Roe v. Wade was decided, the women in the salon cheered.
    I felt as though my vision had cleared. I was no longer a naive sixteen-year-old girl; I was in my twenties, changing, a grown woman. I now knew my marriage was not something to be proud of. I admitted to myself that I was unhappy. I wanted to live a normal, happy life. I didn’t need Domingo anymore. I felt stronger making my own money and receiving constant affirmation in my work. Doing very well in my own world gave me confidence in other areas of my life. I decided to get more education to better serve my clientele—traveling to workshops to learn different techniques—which meant my client list expanded and my books were full. By the time I was twenty-four I was making twenty-five dollars for a simple haircut and doing hair for movie and television stars as well as studio work.
    I was on top of the world. But my deepest heart was empty and my soul lacking. And I was searching. For what, I didn’t know. But I was looking to the world in hopes of finding it. My home life was a wreck and getting worse. At times I didn’t care. I knew I was going to get a divorce anyway; I just needed to make more money. My life was going to change; it was just a matter of time.
    One morning I didn’t feel well. At the breakfast table, nausea swept through me. I knew I had to be pregnant. I didn’t want another child. I loved my boys, but our life was a mess. All Domingo and I did was fight. So I considered getting an abortion. A week later, I was in the hospital having emergency surgery for a ruptured tubular pregnancy. God not only took my child, but the damage was so great, the resulting surgery guaranteed I would never be able to have another baby. I wish I could say that my heart was broken at the loss. It wasn’t. Inside I was quietly rejoicing.
     
    Domingo continued to drink, and the physical altercations got worse. I was so afraid of him when he got drunk. I did whatever he told me, hoping he wouldn’t get mad and hit me.
    I wondered, where was God? Why wasn’t he helping us? I tried to be a good Catholic girl, faithfully attending church and taking Communion. I prayed a lot. In the resulting silence I wondered if my parents had deceived me. Maybe there wasn’t really a God.
    I felt stuck in my marriage. My family loved Domingo, and many people admired him. In my pride, I wanted out but didn’t want anyone to know about my imperfect wreck of a life. I felt there was no hope. All the while, the bitterness inside me grew like a cancer, taking over any good thought I might have had about Domingo.
    I couldn’t hide my seething hatred and anger from the boys. Besides, they heard us fighting—and I was not quiet about how I felt, so they heard all the ugly, horrible words I spewed at their father.
    Domingo was always sorry when he sobered up. It was like living with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The funny thing was, I knew his apologies were sincere, so I forgave him and foolishly believed that this time things had changed. That it would never happen again. Many have asked me, “Why did you stay?” I can only say I really believed he would change. And I believed there was someone special deep down inside.
    In that same deep place I felt Domingo loved me. And I didn’t want to hurt him by leaving—he had been hurt so much in his life. What I really wanted was for us to stay married and be happy. In the back of my mind, I thought that if I could show him I could take care of me and the boys, then he would change.
     
    When the boys were about five and seven, I gathered my tiny bit of courage, sucked up my pride, and moved out one weekend while Domingo was away. I’d found a little apartment not too far from work that was perfect for the three of us.
    After I’d put a deposit on the apartment, I told my parents, but very little, still feeling the need to protect