the years. Paul knew he was far from perfect, but he was slow to judge people, even those who criticized him unjustly.
But he couldn’t seem to satisfy his wife. Monica was horrified by the scars from the appendectomy and the cesarean. She had always believed you couldn’t be too rich, too womanly, too glamorous, too sought after, too sexy. She never let outsiders see her without her makeup. Paul, of course, saw her natural face and he thought her even more beautiful that way, although Monica never believed him.
After Racquel’s birth, Monica’s passion for life also carried with it the capacity for deep anger, which caused her to freeze out her husband for long periods of time, punishing him with bitter silence or angry words. This led to a push-pull relationship: Paul always trying to get her to talk quietly about problems and Monica fleeing such encounters—even when they were in bed.
More fights ensued because of her stinging accusations. Paul ended up always looking at the ground when they went out so he wouldn’t be accused of having a roving eye.
Not only Paul’s attitude, but her own physical appearance now irritated Monica. Her sagging breasts became a constant complaint of Monica’s after Racquel’s birth. Monica knew after nursing a baby a woman’s breasts rarely return to the same firm, high-pointing shape. “I don’t care,” Paul told her. “Your breasts still excite me.” But Monica began to talk about getting breast implants.
“I was perfectly content with what she had before. Her breasts felt real. But this was something she needed to do for her, for her psyche.”
Monica got her wish. Paul had heard the typical locker room banter that implants felt hard, not real. He found out the gossip was true. After the operation, Monica’s larger breasts never felt as soft and responsive.
However, Paul saw Monica’s self-esteem leap. She loved to throw back her shoulders and show off her new shape in tight-fitting sweaters.
Paul concealed his disappointment.
More disappointments followed and Paul was silent about these as well. Monica told him her boss at the bail bonds company for which she worked at the time bought the $3,000 implants. When Paul exasperatedly asked why, she said it was a bonus. Paul didn’t think to ask what she did to deserve a bonus. He did not hear then about the rumors of backrubs at her desk…and more.
“Are you fucking her?”
Monica’s words struck Paul like four stabs in the back. She snarled the words as she sat ramrod straight inside her van parked next to his police motorcycle that day.
Paul played dumb to avoid a scene. “What’s wrong? Gosh, babe! That’s Kelley. You know Kelley.”
“No, I don’t.” Monica’s words spat bile. “We haven’t met.”
Paul had just left the police station to have lunch with Monica when Kelley Hatch, a local television reporter, stopped to ask for some facts about a car accident. Paul got out his clipboard and gave her the information. Monica stormed off to the van, slamming the door loudly.
He had a lot of explaining to do when he got in the van, believing that words that hurt you are imprinted in your memory. That a woman he considered so perfectly feminine and womanly could utter such language astounded Paul. As beautiful as everyone knew her to be, however, something seemed to bring out the green-eyed monster in Monica. She never seemed sure she really had Paul.
Their relationship began unraveling as their girls grew into their toddler years and beyond. Paul found that if he was going to keep peace in the house, he had to keep his mouth shut. If he wanted to resolve a problem, he learned the only way to do so was to swallow his grievances and forget about them. Although in the early stages of the relationship he had been content to spend all his time alone with Monica, now that they were a family, he felt things should be different. But Monica only allowed Paul and the girls to see those of whom she approved—her friends and family. Slowly, she had distanced Paul from his friends and family. Sure, one could say he let her. He had isolated himself from everybody, leaving no room in his life for anyone but her—her and those who met with her approval.
“I had to account for all my time,” Paul admits in retrospect about Monica’s authoritativeness.
In early 1990, Monica pushed Paul into being best man for her best friend’s fiancé. “I think he’s a jerk. I’d sooner kick his butt,” Paul griped. Monica said, “Do it for me.” End of discussion. He did it.
By the time the wedding took place, Monica had returned to her job at the courthouse, but Paul and Monica’s relationship had further deteriorated.
And if he ever so much as glanced at another woman, he never heard the end of it. Slowly, chip by delicate chip, Monica broke Paul’s self-esteem. “There were lots of good times, but always jealousy.” He thought, She’ll get over this, but she didn’t. Slowly, his spirit dissolved. Words, like acid, burned. Why did he let her do it? Paul cannot, to this day, answer that question.
“I felt like her property. I had to go here. I had to do this,” Paul said miserably.
Life at home was getting so strained; he just couldn’t handle it anymore. “Outwardly, it all looked normal. Inwardly, it was more than I could bear.”
Since Paul was a body builder with as many female eyes on him as male ones focused on his wife, Monica was ever vigilant. She wanted his entire attention focused on her alone. When Paul and Monica went out, for instance to the comedy club, she watched her husband like a hawk. If he even glanced at another woman, she exploded.
“Do you want her? Do you think she’s that great? Go get her!”
To avoid her condemnation, Paul found himself constantly looking down whenever he was with her so as not to inflame Monica’s jealousy by accidentally making eye contact with a member of the opposite sex.
Jealousy is a strange predator that boosts the ego at first, but slowly, ever so slowly, strangles its prey. “Initially, it’s flattering that your mate thinks you’re so attractive that she’s protective. After a while, it’s like ‘God, I can’t breathe!’”
But Monica’s jealousy of Paul’s glances at other women also shot an insecure Paul’s self-esteem through the sky. He felt Monica wanted him completely. No one else did, or so he thought. He needed her.
He also learned that she needed him when she told him she had been molested by a relative as a child. Not knowing much about sexual abuse survivors, he later decided this might explain why she had such trouble with issues involving love, sex, security and relationships. Monica had been convinced by her abuser that she must give in to his demands, because she was too beautiful for him to resist, that she was created to tempt men and she must submit. Monica told Paul he was the only one with whom she shared her experiences as a child sexual abuse survivor. It made him want to protect her all the more, but it didn’t stop them from fighting.
One day, Paul was lying on the couch in their home when Monica returned from baseball practice. Monica was an extremely good pitcher for a local team.
