A lot of romance writers have a wheel house they like to stay in with their work, but I write fictionalized stories about real women I've known. It makes it possible for me not to get locked into a niche since the women I've known reflect a wide range of modern issues.
I had best girlfriend in the 80s and 90s. We'll call her Danny Jones. We were so much alike it wasn't funny: Catholic school moms from nice families living in nice homes; both married the same number of years, same number of children the same ages; super cute young husbands that all the women drooled over. The only way we were different is that she was blond hair-blue eyes, and I was dark hair-dark eyes. She was the stereotypical at home mom and I was the stereotypical corporate Mom. We did everything together, with our kids, with our families, or wild good times alone off on Mom weekends. I thought I knew everything about her.....
I knew the Jones had some problems. They bickered all the time. And I knew that Danny wasn't happy, but it's hard being an at home mom with three kids under ten. Still, it didn't surprise me when they separated and started divorce proceedings. She seemed happier. I thought it a good thing that the marriage was ending, though a lot of our catholic school moms started to ditch her then.
One day I dropped my three year old daughter off to play with her three year old son and went off to work. An ordinary day, until I got a call around 1:30: Susan, I have the kids. They are fine. Don't panic! As a mom you just know. Everything went cold inside, I could hear the type of disjointed noise you hear when some sort of crisis is going on, Loraine was yelling at people somewhere out in the street and I was shaking: WTF is going on! Loraine, what's wrong!
Joe broke into the house and attacked Danny with a knife. She's fine. He only got her on the arm before I stopped it. On her way to the hospital. I have the kids, but there are police everywhere. Come get the kids!
It was a nightmare. When I got there the neighborhood moms were all over the lawns, there was yellow crime tape across Danny's front door, and I couldn't escape the thought of how could Joe have been liked this and we didn't know? Was this new or something that always went on in their home? Did he hit on her all the time? Why wouldn't she tell me?
I didn't live in the same neighborhood. I lived across town. But something in how the neighborhood wives were watching told me they all knew Joe was a physical abuser and none of them were surprised by what happened. But no one ever said a word because things like this didn't happen to people like us living in homes like this.
I spent a lot of time with Danny after that, retracing mentally things I'd missed, trying to be a better friend. She told me she didn't tell people because she was afraid that everyone would turn away and she'd have no support systems. As awful as it sounds, her fear of people's reaction was accurate. After that day, none of the neighborhood wives were her friend. She ended up putting her kids in a new school and then eventually moving away to another town. I guess people were very uncomfortable having it in Their Neighborhood while it was on their TV: this happened during the Nichole Simpson murder.
She cut contact with everyone after that. I didn't hear from her again until she remarried in 2009, and the friendship: well, we're older and a lot has changed and maybe I remind her of when we were young and her life wasn't in such a happy place. I don't know. It's not the same. But it's good to hear that she had a happily ever after soft of like the one I'd given her nine years earlier in the book I'd written because I missed her...
I had best girlfriend in the 80s and 90s. We'll call her Danny Jones. We were so much alike it wasn't funny: Catholic school moms from nice families living in nice homes; both married the same number of years, same number of children the same ages; super cute young husbands that all the women drooled over. The only way we were different is that she was blond hair-blue eyes, and I was dark hair-dark eyes. She was the stereotypical at home mom and I was the stereotypical corporate Mom. We did everything together, with our kids, with our families, or wild good times alone off on Mom weekends. I thought I knew everything about her.....
I knew the Jones had some problems. They bickered all the time. And I knew that Danny wasn't happy, but it's hard being an at home mom with three kids under ten. Still, it didn't surprise me when they separated and started divorce proceedings. She seemed happier. I thought it a good thing that the marriage was ending, though a lot of our catholic school moms started to ditch her then.
One day I dropped my three year old daughter off to play with her three year old son and went off to work. An ordinary day, until I got a call around 1:30: Susan, I have the kids. They are fine. Don't panic! As a mom you just know. Everything went cold inside, I could hear the type of disjointed noise you hear when some sort of crisis is going on, Loraine was yelling at people somewhere out in the street and I was shaking: WTF is going on! Loraine, what's wrong!
Joe broke into the house and attacked Danny with a knife. She's fine. He only got her on the arm before I stopped it. On her way to the hospital. I have the kids, but there are police everywhere. Come get the kids!
It was a nightmare. When I got there the neighborhood moms were all over the lawns, there was yellow crime tape across Danny's front door, and I couldn't escape the thought of how could Joe have been liked this and we didn't know? Was this new or something that always went on in their home? Did he hit on her all the time? Why wouldn't she tell me?
I didn't live in the same neighborhood. I lived across town. But something in how the neighborhood wives were watching told me they all knew Joe was a physical abuser and none of them were surprised by what happened. But no one ever said a word because things like this didn't happen to people like us living in homes like this.
I spent a lot of time with Danny after that, retracing mentally things I'd missed, trying to be a better friend. She told me she didn't tell people because she was afraid that everyone would turn away and she'd have no support systems. As awful as it sounds, her fear of people's reaction was accurate. After that day, none of the neighborhood wives were her friend. She ended up putting her kids in a new school and then eventually moving away to another town. I guess people were very uncomfortable having it in Their Neighborhood while it was on their TV: this happened during the Nichole Simpson murder.
She cut contact with everyone after that. I didn't hear from her again until she remarried in 2009, and the friendship: well, we're older and a lot has changed and maybe I remind her of when we were young and her life wasn't in such a happy place. I don't know. It's not the same. But it's good to hear that she had a happily ever after soft of like the one I'd given her nine years earlier in the book I'd written because I missed her...
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