3-A wooden spoon
This is a revised story- beginning 3
Things slowly improved in the villa, a few plastic cups, 2 cooking pans and a wooden spoon were added to the already sparse kitchen supplies. Three thin foam pads were purchased for the four kids and me to sleep on. A gaudy pink floral pattern spread unevenly to edges that were sewn together in a jagged line, enclosing each mattress. They were quickly pushed together and covered with the old brown blanket, closing up any gaps that remained. Days drug on each melding together with no apparent end in sight. Jet lag lulled us to sleep and efforts to turn our schedule around were futile in the dull and numbing heat. The older boys accompanied him to prayer each night, painting a vivid picture of Riyadh and the neighborhood upon their return. A routine of sorts had been pieced together and things became manageable in the villa.
Each night a grease stained paper bag could be seen tucked under his arm as he opened the door and woke us from our lethargic almost dormant state of being. A long piece of plastic ( sufra)was torn at perforations and placed to shape an eating area on the rough black carpet. The contents of the bag were poured onto a tray, rice with chicken on the side. Two large water bottles were placed on the sufra and passed around when the meal was nearly done. Guidelines had not changed; the rules were still in place, no arguing or hurried eating, limit talking, keep hands clean and above all no complaining.
Rice and chicken from a neighborhood restaurant became the staple diet until he announced that he would purchase a stove so real cooking could commence. The house buzzed with anticipation and talk of the food that undoubtedly would follow, cookies, cakes and pasta. When his day off arrived he made his way to Butha (area where people can buy used goods like a swap meet on weekends) and returned with an electric stove. Two workers dressed in shabby faded coveralls maneuvered up three flights of stairs until at last they delivered this new addition to the villa.
He worked to secure the appliance in its place, making necessary adjustments to put it in working order. He stood and smiled motioning for my approval, pointing to the old yellow stove, dirt and grime, chipped off paint, wobbly and uneven. His eyes narrowed as he scanned my face looking for any sign of disapproval. “Forty dollars and its electric” his words hung overhead too heavy to be absorbed. He spoke of having friends over and the meals that would be prepared on the newly purchased appliance.
A sick and familiar feeling and the realization that nothing had actually changed became my focus. The hope that this move to Saudi would make him happy and somehow things would return to normalcy seemed unrealistic. I pulled my thoughts together and remembered life was a test not meant to be neglected or lived in frivolous luxury.
A pan of water bubbled on the burner; pasta was thrown in and cooked, drained and served with butter and salt. Stirring became treacherous and with each touch of the metal spoon, tiny zaps shocked my hand. Two burners were operational, the inside of the oven spewed out smoke and grit. I smiled and stirred quickly trying to avoid these blips, not knowing what was wrong or daring to inquire.
A dismal expression crossed his face as he stared down at noodles, salt and butter. The usual words were spoken that signaled dissatisfaction “what is in this?” I had learned that responses should be short, respectful and exact. He was disappointed that I was not acting like a woman who loved to create pastries and homemade dishes, what was wrong with me, noodles with salt and butter? Why, no one would imagine I was a lady who loved to experiment with baking and cooking, host dinner parties and prepare special dishes for ailing friends. I explained that the inside of the stove did not work properly and when I stirred food on the stove top it seemed something was shocking me. This was met with a long hard look and words that would prove to epitomize my life from that point forward, “Well, USE a wooden spoon then!”
This is almost unbearable to read. How did you bear it? I am longing to get to the point where you leave this bastard. Happily, I know the ending….
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Thanks so much for your amazing comment! I can tell you it sounds unreal and I don’t know how!
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Yes you should of used a wooden spoon!! To beat the bastard about his head.💜💜💜💜
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Willow you make me laugh! Thanks dearest xxxx
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I hope so, but I did mean it.💜🌹🌹
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xoxoxoxo
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I wouldn’t be so generous. I’d hit him with a frying pan.
Leslie
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Indeed, and I use the wooden spoon too!!
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Good move!
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Yes;!
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🙂
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You guys are making me laugh, thank you for lightening the mood! I love you all xoxo
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The other alternative is to get him to stir the pot with a metal spoon. Just be sure to turn up the heat to high.
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He seemed to totally lack empathy!
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He was failing to provide the basic necessities of life to his wife and family. Somehow he seemed to blame it all on you.
Leslie
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yes very true
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This comment cracked me up.
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me too! It made me laugh which helped me so much after revising this story! Thanks Sarah
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No Lynn, you should use the metallic tool to beat him with, too soft with the wooden spoon:-)
I’m also happy to know, that you got away alive.
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Thanks dearest soul sister!!! xoxoxo
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I’m also happy to know you and the kids got out, this beggars belief… You’d have been happier in a tent in the desert
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Thanks dear Marina! xoxo
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I still find this amazing to read Lynn, and marvel at your stoicism. Hugs.
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Thanks so much! I learned to be matter of fact, not ever show my emotions or that was scary. Thanks for the hug!
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The stark reality of fear and intimidation come through your writing so clearly. A gigantic hug to you!
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Thanks so much for reading and the great hug!
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You’re welcome!
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I’m glad I know the ending of the story! God was with you and the kids! Love you Lynn!!
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Yes you are so right! We are lucky God watched over us!
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Loved and share the feeling of the first two ladies comments who wanted to beat him with the wooden spoon! I’m so glad you and the kids got away!
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Thanks so much dear Deborah! xxx
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🙂
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Is minimal decency and respect too much to ask for? Just amazing how some people are willing to treat others.
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I agree, looking back it seems like a dream, unreal.
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You did good Lyn it is he that sounds like a psychopath truly
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Just a thought you could have reported him to the authorities telling them he wears your panties to bed and to parade around the house
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hahahahaha thanks for the laugh dear!!!!
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You’re welcome I thought you might need one ha ha ha
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I did x
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I am really wondering if that is true now Joseph! I was so confused and kept trying to think the best of him and make excuses. The weird thing is my kids did not believe me and kept telling me I was not seeing the real truth!
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Psychopaths spread their lies all around you so if you speak the truth you end up looking like a liar. He is despicable at any rate.
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This is so true! xx
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Did you even have a wooden spoon? Total moron!
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I did haha and he really said well duh use that not metal, and so I did! xoxoxo
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xxoo b-2
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I am laughing out loud reading these comments. It’s good to see that there are other people who think exactly the same way I do. . . he needed a good, swift kick in the arse with a frozen boot. Of course, it’s easy for me to say.
Lynn, you are a marvel.
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Thanks dearest! It helps to lighten the mood. There is so much shame and guilt and blame that it is hard to see. These comments make me feel like I am not alone and can live my life freely!! xxx
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Lynn,
You are not the one who should be feeling shame, guilt and blame. This is all. on. him.
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Thanks!
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Chillingly told. He is clearly a man beyond redemption. That you managed so bravely and for so long is a marvel. (K)
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Thanks dear K!
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This is beyond imaginable Lyn. How cruel and cold hearted and unloving!!! Lots of hugs for you!!!
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Thanks!
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I like this version….its so hard to have a kind thought for this man….but I do like the revision…well done…XXXkat
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Thanks Kat! xxx
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I like your post 😊.
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Thanks for sharing this at the Salon and yes, I have to agree with Willowdot, that the best use of the spoon would have been a sharp bang across his skull.
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Thanks for reading dearest Bernadette! So glad you are back and the Salon is wonderful as always!
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I don’t know how you put up with him for as long as you did. I would have found a better use for the wooden spoon, as well. He needed some sense knocked into him and probably still does.
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Thanks so much for reading and the support! xxx
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😉
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It sounds like such a miserabe existence! So happy that you are no longer in this terrible situation! xoxoxo
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Thanks dearest PJ xoxoxoxo
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xoxox
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When I get to end, Lynn, I exhale and realize that I’ve been holding my breath the entire time. Your writing is gripping, your story terrifying and heartbreaking. I so admire your strength and commitment to share it. ❤ Hugs, my friend.
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I so agree with all your commentors Lynn! You’re a very brave soul and I thank God you got away from him!
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Thanks so much Linda, have missed you dear xxx
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That’s summer…busy with traveling and family- I’m going to try and catch up with everyone! 😘
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oh yes for sure
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It is so clear to see that you and your children were held in bondage. You are a marvelously strong woman to have escaped from him.
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Thanks so much!
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Oh how I love to read your words and see the evolution of your book from the words I first read years ago! Your experiences will be so valuable to other people who have lived and survived abusive situations. You are an incredibly strong woman and an awesome role model. Love, Your old friend, Clare
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Thanks so much dear friend, I think about you often and miss you! xx
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I will visit more often!
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I will look forward to that!
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OMG. You built that into the perfect crescendo at which to end!
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Thanks
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Very well written, understated and factual. I like this version of the way life was going!
I am in awe of how you kept your mannerisms as if nothing was wrong. . . when all heck was spilling out of every part of your life except your loving relationship with the children. The clinical writing is excellent and it makes the situation able for us, the readers, to want to save you, rescue you. This will mean a lot to others, realizing you aren’t exaggerating the horrific days and nights you endured.
The lack of complaints makes us know how fearful the situation really was. . . hugs xo 💖💐
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You are so sweet my dearest friend! You are one strong mother and I admire you and how you have built your life! Thank you
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