Friday of A Long Week

Why is it every Wednesday when I go to church I come home to a drunk trying to control me with god things. Yes, with a little 'g'what he's spouting doesn't merit a 'G' in any way. So I thought he wasn't home. Seems way before he had our boy move his truck and park it in the church parking lot next door. He was already crazy drunk and high. All I saw was Pablito's truck parked on the sidewalk. Our girl and I came home and as soon as we saw it knew it was drunk parking... I realized this week I really do need to go to sleep way earlier. At 1:30 a.m. a hand groping (thankfully) my face woke me. All I could smell was alcohol. (not even beer) Nabal wants to talk... He loves me, come sleep upstairs. "You are my wife!"He said he talked to Pastor Bare, the head pastor of the American church they meet in and are now part of again. He claims to have talked to the man 2 hours. I doubt any part of that was true. He claims they were talking about me. The man asked where his wife was... His voice got weird. He said he cried. Then the fake voice disappeared. He asked, (asked) could he and the kids come to my church on Sunday. I don't bar anyone. I have in the past invited him. Begged him when we needed someone to translate our sermons. He then said he didn't like my pastor, and that he was fat. Like that had anything to do with anything. And he was just being mean because my pastor has never been fat or even beefy. Anyway. He says the man is coming over Sunday and wants my pastor so they can talk to me. (I'm his wife.) I told him my pastor would love to be there! (changes subject very quickly) He needs me to love him again. I think he's done bad things but I'm mistaken. He wants me to now show my love by going everywhere with him, never being anywhere but by his side. The dream world of a drunk. He gets up quickly knocks his beer, and a glass of water over and races to the bathroom. When he gets back I had to listen to how he almost didn't make it to throw up. Was so trying to just go back to sleep. I begged him to just go to sleep. He had to go over his story again. He'd forgotten all about the whole pastor thing by this time and just kept repeating that I was his wife, trying to sound commanding. He finally did go upstairs. He knocked over a basket that just happened to have sewing pins in it. Didn't even try to pick anything up. Just after that I realized he had my guitar and he was playing it very loud in our son's room. Why the boy was up writing a paper is another story. Nabal is there wanting to play and talk loud. Our girl was asleep, until he woke her up. Nabal does not like the fact that our boy is going into the Marines. I don't either, but for very different reasons. He said he wanted the boy to stay here in the house. He wants the boy to work for him and he (Nabal) will make him big! I want the boy to go away to college. He needs to leave for his sanity. Nabal has been so mean to the boy when he was young. Nabal is trying to keep the boy under his control just like his mother does with them . He's going to drive the boy away for sure. The next morning our girl was in the main bathroom upstairs and when I went by she calls me in and points to dried blood drops on the floor. Then I noticed blood streaked on a towel hanging. I knew what it was, Nabal's nose was bleeding again. Later that day Nabal asks why his nose bleeds. Oh how many times have I told him IT'S BECAUSE YOU DRINK TOO MUCH! "You really think that's why?" When he doesn't drink his nose doesn't bleed, when he does it does.

So, next day I cut the grass. A lot of it hadn't been cut in about a month and a half. At least this time I didn't have to listen to Nabal tell me how he was planning to cut it just that day but I got to it first. He doesn't have time... I was cutting the back and there on the patio was a case of 'Sol' beer. He hadn't been anywhere... I thought he was out. He probably had the CD playing cheesy, my woman left me mariachi music. There on the table stood all the bottles. I had already seen a 40oz in the trash. Wonder why his nose bled... Well, got all the grass cut! Next day our poor girl was simply sleep deprived. She, well everyone in the house has trouble sleeping. We live so very dysfunctionally. I hate it.