Slavery Was Practiced, Killer Was The Master

Have you ever thought you were losing your mind? You wake up one day and wonder how you've held it together without coming apart at the seams? All the logic and common sense you have relied on to get through each minute of your life, disappeared at the snap of a finger. Poof. Gone.

Well, in the summer of 1986, I was there. I was at the end of my rope of hope.  I could breath and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I had a plan.  All I needed to do was to follow it and I'd be fine, but I lost my mind. I stopped caring about any thing and anyone except for me.

Summers were filled with conferences and travel and I hit the road hard. The week before Worm was to leave I had a conference up at Grand Traverse Resort.  It was a Risk Manager conference and part of my Management by Objectives was that I had to attend so many conferences that our members attended.  I loved going to these conferences. After my moment of defying Killer, I felt free to go out and have fun at these conferences with the attendees who I had come to know quite well with my travels. 

I welcomed the opportunity to not be under the watchful eye of Killer. I discovered quickly, most attending these conferences forgot what their real life was back home.  I had never been apart of the night life or the college life, I went from graduating from high school to being a full time mom, wife and career woman. I enjoyed the attention, the flirting, the compliments and the fun!

There had been several men who kept an eye on me and had I picked up on their suggestions, I could have had my pick from a small litter, but I had to remember, Killer knew many of the people I worked with, so stepping across that boundary was not an option.  I was not out to hurt anyone and my Mother had told me the day before I was married that if I ever decided to "play around," do it on my own time.

One particular man also worked for MHA. He was the manager of the Risk Management Department.  In a dark room, filled with smoke and a heavy dose of alcohol flowing in my veins, I would not have given him a second look and I was not in this environment at all. He was persistent and I was unapproachable.  He had asked me to lunch one day, long before this conference to discuss coordinating trips to our members to do educational seminars.  I really thought that is what he wanted to talk about, but we talked about everything but.  I didn't give it a second thought, but at this conference, he handed me a book and suggested I read it.

It was a paperback on taking "risks." Personal risks. It addressed making the move to leave a situation where you felt trapped whether it was a job or relationship on to happiness and the risk you would face and how you weighed the pros and cons. 

I had no clue why he gave this to me.  I didn't talk about Killer to anyone nor did I talk about my marriage unless it was all how happy I was and how much I admired him. But Michael  had an agenda, it just wasn't clear to me at that moment.

Michael was older than Killer, by a year.  He was in the same line of work as Killer only dealing with malpractice in the  hospital setting verses the doctor himself.  They knew each other and I would later discover didn't care for one another at all.

In late June I started looking for my next nest.  I had money tucked away to make this work.  I knew my budget. I knew I would have to start over with very little to set up a home.  I found an apartment that fit my needs in early July.  It was difficult to apartment hunt given my schedule.  I was on the road often and if I was in town, I had to do my search during my lunch hour as I was still expected to be home playing my role as housewife and maid.

Killer fell back into his pattern of a man's work is outside and a woman's work is inside when Worm ran away.  I knew my days were numbered and so I became a little bolder, what was  he going to do, kill me?

He insisted clothes be hung outside in from spring until fall.  He had a method for hanging clothes outside.  Sheets went on the outside and  his underwear went on the inside so the neighbors couldn't see them.  By now, six years into this marriage, my bra collection had grown to 72 choices.  I may have several in the same style, but a different color, but the trend of circling his favorites in the catalog twice a year and my ordering them continued as well as the naming of each and the modeling, photographing and cataloging each over the shoulder boulder holder. Those could be hung on the outside.  I guess he didn't mind that the neighbors saw my bras, but not his tighty whities. 

I still continued to select his clothes each evening  and hung them up when I came home.  Even if I was gone for several days, he'd lay them in Worm's room for my return to hang them up.  He expected his shirts ironed, meals cooked, kitchen and house cleaned and he sat in the library and watched television.  Once a week he mowed the lawn and it was always on Saturday, the day I hung the  laundry out.  This increased my work as I had to shake the grass clippings off the laundry and more clothes had to be ironed that were perma press and wrinkle free if they were dried in the dryer. 

He liked to be waited on. When he wanted coffee or a snack, he'd yell for me and expected me to come to the door and ask him what he wanted.  When Killer called, you did not respond by yelling back from where ever you were, you came to the location he was in and asked him what he wanted from you. And if he wanted coffee and a snack, you dropped whatever you were doing and you made him whatever he wanted. And you had to know when he was done as he expected you to return to retrieve said dishes and take care of them.  

During our marriage, one evening I was sick and did not feel well.  He had gotten up to go to the bathroom and I called for him to bring me some thing back to drink. He came back to the bedroom and had nothing in his hands that resembled a beverage of any kind.  "Where is my drink?"  Another moment in history was noted, "If you want something to drink, get up and get it."  Note to self, another small reason I needed to move on, I was not a partner for better or worse. 

It was laundry day and I was home cleaning the house, preparing to go grocery shopping, and doing what I needed to do every week to maintain the house.  I wanted to dry the clothes so that I could get the ironing out of the way without waiting for it to dry on the line and then having more to iron.  He came downstairs because he smelled the dryer vent outside. "Beadie, clothes need to be hung out, it's nice outside, you know how much I like the smell of the air dried laundry." 

How could I forget this? I'd been doing this for six years! He left to go back to his lawn work.  I removed the clothes from the dryer and put them in the laundry basket.  I was arguing with myself inside over this stupid desire of his to hang the clothes outside and as I reached that top step, I had an epiphany! Why had I not thought of this before.

I opened up the back door that went outside to the garage and I whistled for Killer.  He came to the back door and I handed him the laundry basket, filled with wet clothes.  "By the way, clothes are hung outside and that is a man's job." Needless to say, I could use the dryer any time I wanted to now.

The Nest is Empty, Now Momma's Gotta Fly

Worm had run away from home, but she was not free just yet. The family that had taken her in lived off the system on many different levels and as I recall there were many who lived in this small home in north Lansing.

One day Killer received a letter from the Department of Social Security.  They had been informed that Worm no longer resided with him and had not since January 1986. Technically, she ran away at the end of February and he was paid this social security on the first of each month.  This was a benefit from the death of her Mother.  I did not know that he received this each month. I didn’t know there was even a benefit out there for children who lost a parent. But I did wonder where he got all his money to buy these expensive car parts.

He gave me his check every two weeks to combine with mine to pay all the household expenses and all he asked for in return was $20 for pocket change.  I knew that $20 did not buy these car parts, but again, I never knew Killer’s financials as this was not my business.  I had been instructed where the safe deposit box was.  I was informed that if he were ill, I was to go to this box and remove a brown paper sack which would outline everything I needed to know about his finances and I was to execute the message left in this bag immediately.  But under no circumstances was I to look at this before he was very ill.

He had to repay social security two month’s of benefits and he was fit to be tied.  First, she had not been gone since January but I think he understood his free gravy train was ending soon.  He received about $1500 or $1600 a month for the care of this child.  That was a lot of money in the early 1980’s. Close to $20,000 a year in fact.

I guess he could have afforded that water for Worm to take her showers if I had known this was out there in addition to our salaries. I was pissed at first.  This benefit was for taking care of this child, yet we were supporting her on our salaries.  Legally, I did not have an obligation to her to support her, but I did support her combining our two incomes together. He was taking the income to provide for her and spending it on cars and car parts.

Money wasn’t tight for us, we both made good money, but Worm didn’t always have brand new clothes to wear. Gone were the days that Killer bought her clothes at Jacobson’s.  Gone were the days he bought his suits and shoes there.  Mollie Belle had been a butcher at Kroger and made better money than Killer. That is how he afforded the Cadillac’s and Corvettes.  He had the job, Mollie Belle had the career.

At this point, I realized that not only was he controlling me, but he was not being honest with me.  He did not look at me as his partner in marriage; he looked at me as a possession.  Why would he not share information about this with me or any other information such as bank accounts and stock portfolios. What other secrets did he have that I was unaware of?

The first year we were married he filed our taxes and all I was required to do was sign on the dotted line.  I was not allowed to look at the tax return and honestly I trusted him, but at year four, we were audited and he was a bit frantic as he had to come up with receipts for deductions he had claimed.  The year that was being audited was the first year we were married and the year right after Mollie Belle died.

He had forgotten to claim interest on a bank account Mollie Belle had in her name only.  He had not known about it and discovered it the year after she died and the year we were married.  She had earned about $12.00 in interest and he neglected to report it. Three years later, that simple mistake with interest cost us over $700 in penalties.  I was livid as he expected me to pay those out of our joint account and I felt this was his mistake and he should pay it from where ever he was getting all these funds to play car collector.  I ended up paying for it, but I was not happy. I suggested in the future we have a professional do our taxes but he stated it was nobody’s business what we earned.  And I continued to just see the document that required my signature for filing, not the whole return.

He had to have paid social security back, but I don’t remember it. He was responsible for this debt and I made it very clear, I was not helping him out of this.  If he’d already spent the money, he’d have to figure out how he was going to pay the government back as my name was no where on this federal screw up he had encountered.

Worm graduated with her GED in May 1986. She called to tell me about it and I attended the ceremony without Killer.  He refused to attend as he was still very upset over the social security caper.

I bought her a rose and I met her after the ceremony to congratulate her.  She would be leaving within a week or so for the Army. She had a list of things required for basic training, not much, but a few things and I made sure she had what she needed. 

Killer wanted to be sure she left so he was there the day that she boarded that bus for her new venture.  He wasn't sad to see her go, he just wanted to be sure, she was gone.  He felt this was the only way she was going to make anything of herself. 

It was June 6, 1986.  He came home and announced she was gone.  Life was about to change now that I knew she was safe and would never return to this nightmare.  I checked this off my list on my  plan on how I was going to leave. One, Worm had to be gone with no chance of returning.

It Didn't Take A Village to Raise Her, Just Me

Life at the Homestead was not always filled with tension.  Killer and I loved working in the yard and our yard was beautiful. One year we even won the neighborhood award for having the prettiest yard in the Baily Community.

He had season tickets to MSU football.  I hated football.  Never understood it and to this day do not understand it, but will watch if a gun is held to my head. He always would take me to the games and I didn’t mind the first two of the season as the weather was nice and we’d walk to the stadium and I’d people watch.  But after the first two games, maybe three, I didn’t like sitting in the cold or damp weather.  So, he’d take Worm.  I thought it might help them bond together, some one on one time.  She needed some attention from Killer and he was not willing to give her any positive attention.  I know they enjoyed themselves, although Killer would never admit it.

He always let her watch Miracle on 34^th Street at Christmas time.  I have never watched that movie, but it is still her all time favorite even to today. She didn’t get to watch television much because she was not allowed to “play” until her homework was done and she lollygagged doing her homework, so her nights were spent sitting in her room day dreaming but not doing her homework. Ok, I’m wrong; tension was always playing softly in the background if not at full blast rocking the plaster off the walls. This child who I loved as if she were my own, was gone, but the memories of her still lingered in my mind. Such as the lying, stealing and skipping school.  

The principal called me some time in her sophomore or junior year and wanted to meet with me about her attendance issues.  Worm had been skipping classes for almost three weeks when the call came in.  I am guessing those hourly attendance reports were a bit behind as how could you allow a child to miss three weeks of the same class without a red flag being slightly raised?

I took off from work to meet with the principal. I was not one of these parent’s who claimed the authorities must be mistaken; my little Wormie would never skip school.  I was the parent who said, show me the proof and let’s address it as a team. I will back you up 110%. I need to keep this child on track.

East Lansing Schools in the 1980’s must have had a different agenda. They were not interested in whether your child was attending classes and learning, they were interested in appearances.  Perhaps that is why Killer was the way he was, he attended East Lansing High School and graduated in 1962, appearances meant everything to him.

The principal informed me that the rules stated if she missed this amount of time, actually less than what she had missed, she would be dropped from the class with no credit. Okay by me, I went through high school and never took a study hall; she could give up study hall one year to make this class up.  I am on board. What next?

This principal appeared flabbergasted! Well, if she was kicked out of the class, she’d have to sit in the principal’s office for that period.  Again, I am not seeing a problem with this.  The principle’s office was a fish bowl.  It was all glass so she’d be seen sitting there while other student’s walked by and maybe a little embarrassment would reel her in to attending class.

I was on board, so if she had to sit in the office for that one hour, not a problem with me. Let’s do this. And then I heard the words come from this principal’s mouth that just blew me over. “Mrs. Henshaw, we cannot allow Worm to sit in the office for the hour, other students would see her and she’d be ridiculed and suffer self esteem issues.”

Hold on to your ball caps! YOU called me, to inform me there was an issue with my child not attending class.  Three solid weeks of not attending class, not one day, three weeks, fifteen school days.   You told me there was a problem and I needed to drop everything I was doing to come meet with you.  You tell me the “rules” dictate she will be dropped from class and not get credit and the “rules” state she will be reprimanded to the principal’s office for that hour to sit until her next class starts.  That is what your rules say and now you stand before me and tell me my child is exempt from the consequences because she will have self esteem issues and you are worried about appearances?

She didn’t understand. Worm already had self esteem issues, no thanks to Killer! She didn’t understand that I had been preaching to her the consequences of your actions had to be faced sooner or later. So what did she have in mind if she wasn’t going to follow her “rules?” The principal had a marvelous idea, we will let her continue to attend class and give her an incomplete.

Now, I am a common sense kind of girl. I apply logic to most everything I do. How does this make sense? She is not returning from lunch. She is skipping class. She has overstepped the boundary and the rules dictate she fails the class and sit in the office. If you applied this rule and she didn’t show up to the principal’s office after lunch, I would assume one would think there was a problem.  A child missing?  A child off campus?  But you want me to take time from my day to discuss this issue, yet you want to do nothing about it? Why call? Nothing has changed.  You want her to continue to attend class knowing she is going to get an incomplete. Why would she attend? For appearances? I just could not wrap my brain around this issue that warranted my presence to address a violation, but no consequences were to be paid by this blatant disrespect of the rules. I guess I’d have to deal with this myself. They were merely informing me I had the problem, not them.

I implemented a check in sheet. Each Friday, she was to have each teacher, from each hour sign a sheet that informed me whether she had attended class, had late assignments, or was to be working on a project or assignment. That way I would know each week where she stood.  If she was attending classes.  I could monitor the work she needed to do and make sure the work was turned in on time. I will admit, this might have created self esteem issues and it may have been noticed by others, but how can I monitor what she is supposed to be doing in class if I don’t know whether she is attending class or if she is telling me the truth that she had no homework.  This went on for some time and then stupid must have been tattooed back across my forehead as I noticed the same teacher kept writing the same thing each week.  And it appeared this teacher was robotic as the message and signature was almost identical even the slant of the signature. 

Now, I do not have a trained eye, but I am an investigator by trade.  I am paid to investigate claims and find the loopholes if there are any to prove the claim is legitimate of fraudulent, so my eye is trained to details.  I held up the weekly sign in sheet to compare it to the others and much to my surprise, the fourth hour teacher (just before lunch) never changed her message or signature.  In fact she was so perfect; she signed it in the exact same place each week, at the exact same slant.  I was witnessing a miracle before my eyes! Or not.

I pointed this out to Worm and I questioned her about the similarities of the message and the signature. Poor child, she saw stupid tattooed on my forehead and went with it. She had no idea what I was talking about, this teacher signed this sheet every Friday.

So, I was not surprised when the call came in from the principal to come to the office to discuss Worm’s attendance again.  I was not surprised that she had merely changed her shopping hours from after lunch to before lunch. She had now been absent from her fourth hour class for three weeks as well. I still could not understand how a child can be absent from a class for three solid weeks and the school officials do not take notice. A day, I understand, but after a few days or a week, I would think some where a light bulb would be flashing, “ALERT, ALERT, we have a problem Houston.”

Was I going to miss this? The last night she was home, I was angry and I confronted her, "When will I ever be able to come home and not have to deal with something that you've done? Can I just have one day that I come home and don't have to deal with this shit?"

These words echoed in my heart that first night she was gone. I wasn't free from dealing with her, I was worried that she was safe. Was she warm, was she out of  harm's way? Reggie would not call the police to report a missing person.  He did not want them involved.  I think deep inside I knew why.  But he also didn't go looking for her.  I was the one that went up to the school looking for her.

The next morning I needed to be in Saginaw for a hearing.  I couldn't back out at the last minute.  But Killer, he was working in Okemos, he could have taken the day to go sit at the school and look for her, but he didn't. I couldn't understand why he wasn't more involved in finding her, but over time, I understood.  He was relieved that she was gone for his own reasons

Freedom is not Always Sweet

I was really at the end of my rope of hope.  I was praying my life away just to reach that day that I was free. No one knew how unhappy I was.  I couldn't share this with anyone to include my family.  Everyone thought I was just this happy little housewife.  I'd send greeting cards to Killer when I was  on the road, like young lovers do.  I did not let on to anyone the plans I was preparing. Killer started inviting me to donuts and coffee when he would go out with the Stewart's.  They were about ten years older than Killer.  In my life, I always gravitated to those who were considerably older than I was, I don't know why.

One day as I was preparing to get ready for work, I pulled out a pair of shoes.  New shoes.  Shoes that had never seen real feet, or so I thought. As I was putting them on, I noticed the outline of a foot inside.  I was taken back as I wear a size eleven and back then this was a very difficult size to find, but inside, this imprint of the foot and toes, didn't even come close to reaching the end of the shoe.  If I had to guess, Cinderella was sitting at the end of the hall and I'm betting she had taken these shoes to school and worn them as the imprint looked to be about a size nine.

Down the hall I traveled.  My anger slowly growing.  I knew what she was going to say.  Why even bother asking her?  I should just walk in there and end her life so I could start mine.  This child! She tested me at every corner, she stretched my patience until I thought it'd snap and all hell would break lose.

Opening the door to her room, I held the glass slipper.  "Do you want to tell me about this?"  "What?"  Lord, give me the strength to stop just before she is to take her last breath so she would live to tell this story! Again, I had to introduce logic.  If I were to have worn this shoe, the imprint would be one of big foot, but if she were to wear this shoe, it would appear someonewho was trying to FILL MY SHOES!

My own Mother had cursed me!  She had prayed that I would be blessed with a child who challenged me just like I did her, but I knew that was never going to happen, I had no desire to have my own children.  And here before me, stood this challenge that just kept giving and giving and giving!

She was sneaking things to school in her school bag.  OY, now I have to do a body check and a bag check every morning before you go to school?  You think going through airport security is bad today? I put this child through a scan every morning that would put modern technology to shame. She was going to learn that she did not have a thing up on this chickie!  I may just be eight years older than she was but I had already lived and survived my teenage years.

It didn't  matter what you did, you could beat her, starve her, ground her and she still kept ticking me off!  I kept taking longer road trips just to stay away from the stress of the homestead.

The first of the year, 1986, the year of major changes, Killer agreed to a vacation to see my parents.  Killer didn't vacation. His  ideal vacation was a week home mowing his lawn and working on his cars.  I had to keep things there to keep Worm motivated to work toward.  A trip to Florida, driver's education and then graduation!

February had arrived, four months until the big graduation day.  Worm came home late and it was at the end of a string of her thumbing her nose to simple rules.  We had gone through skipping classes, stealing, sipping of the alcohol samplers that were in the dining room from days that her Mother had flown and saved those cute little bottles. Every day something had to be addressed.  Killer saw my head spinning.  Could I just have ONE day that I came  home and I didn't have to address some thing that happened where she was at the core of it.

Killer took her into her bedroom and it was very quiet.  Very quiet.  I could hear whispering but I was so livid I didn't care what he was saying to her.  The evening went on as any other evening would.  The next day, body scans and bag checks were completed.  I came home that night in February, just three weeks from our planned vacation and no Worm was waiting.

She had lost her mind!  She was really going to put me in a grave and I wasn't even twenty six yet.  I drove up to the school No Worm. I went to her locker and opened it, hmm, surprise, lots of contraband.  She was on my last nerve.  Worm never showed up that night.   She didn't  have any close friends that I knew where she might go to their house. Killer acted like nothing was wrong.  Did he kill her and not tell me?

I was worried sick.  Where could she be, but at the same time I was angry.  How dare her not to show up or call.  I was up all night wondering where she had disappeared.  I called the school the next day and asked them to call me when she showed up for class.  She showed up for first hour and they called me third hour to tell me that, but by third hour, she wasn't in class.  She didn't keep a schedule,but she did keep going to school for a few days, just not on a schedule that I  could catch her.

We were getting ready to go to Florida.  I was sure, she'd be home, she had no where to go, but still  no Worm.  Then the phone calls started coming in. About every three to five days.  A family would call to tell us she  had been there staying at their home and she had told them the horror stories, but then she would steal or lie and they would kick her out.  They had no idea where she was.  Another call would come and the same story would be repeated.

In late March, we had returned from Florida.  I had expected her to break into the house, but she didn't.  Still no word and then one day at work the phone rang and it was Worm.  She told me she was OK. She was living with a family on the north side of Lansing and working at the McDonald's on US 27. She had met a boy and she was living with his family.  The mother was making her go to school to get her GED.  Well, thank God for small miracles.  She  needed some clothes.  I agreed to meet  her.  I took her clothes to her and her bicycle. You could see the relief in her face from not having to face the day to day drama of the Homestead, but she was not free just yet. Nor was I.

Listen to Me, We are fighting the Same Battle

My Dad had been retired since 1982. He and Mom had bought a motor home and did some traveling to decide where they might want to retire beside Michigan.  They ended up in Haines City, Florida. They took advantage of a free offer to stay in this manufactured  home community built around a golf course and the next thing I knew they were buying one and planning on spending winters in Florida. This decision was made in early 1985 and they were preparing to be a two home family again.

My brother and his wife had delivered a boy in late 1982 and made my parents grandparents.  They adored their grandson.  Dad was retired so he had time to spend with his grandson.  Nothing made them more happy than to have the grand baby visit with or with out his parents. My brother though was my Mother in a male body.  He had to keep control of everything and as he moved away from the family unit, he would do things to crush my Mother's  heart.  

I was thrilled to have a nephew as my plan all along had been to let my brother have all the children and I would spoil them.  Getting my dose of children but not having the full responsibility of them.  All in my plan book that had to be thrown away when I married the Devil.


Killer didn't like children and he did not like babies! Christmas 1984 was just around the corner and I wanted to have Christmas at my house.  I loved Christmas.  I loved to decorate.  I loved to bake.  I loved to cook.  I loved to shop and wrap the package all up in a special wrap and bow.  But Christmas was a difficult time at the Henshaw Homestead as Mollie Belle had died at Christmas time.

In 1984, I was sewing more than animals.  I was sewing clothes. I even made my own patterns to make Worm clothes.  I made little frilly dresses for a "friend" of Killers who had sole custody of his daughter. She called me the Cookie Monster as I always had cookies at my  house when she came to visit and a surprise for her which was usually a new dress or an animal.

I had sewn a bunch of holiday place mats and table clothes.  I had baked sugar cookies and spent hours decorating them.  Killer did not like people over on Christmas Day. Not a problem. My family always celebrated Christmas Eve.  I convinced him to let me have my family over for the  holiday.  My nephew/Godson had just turned two.

I decorated every inch of the house to include the toilet.  I  had Christmas toilet paper, soaps, you name it, it was decked in Christmas Cheer.  It was the last Christmas we would get together as a  family.  In 1985, my parents went to Florida the day after Christmas. I am not sure if they saw their grandson that year, but Christmas would never be the same for me after this.  I miss the celebration of Christmas and I still have so many decorations, but my  heart is just not into any longer.  Perhaps that will change some day.

My first Aunt died January 1, 1986.  I got a call from my cousin early in the morning.  She had lung cancer and she was my mother's second oldest sister.  Although I was expecting it, it still came as a shock.  I laid in bed that one morning wondering how my Mom was doing.  She had just left for Florida and I knew they would not travel back to Michigan for the funeral.  I would have to represent our family as I usually did after this point in life.

Killer asked me who was on the phone and when I told him what had happened he somehow felt this was an opportunity to get frisky.  I was so appalled.  I just got news of a family death and he wanted to have a little horizontal refreshment? My head must have spun as he told me that sex  after death made you feel alive!  Killer, you need a check up from the neck up! Really? SEX after death proves to you that you are alive?  WOW!  I had to write that one down. I'm thinking pinching myself proves the same thing, but I was not about to get into this conversation with him as he was always right.

Things with Worm were not getting better.  I had sent her one night down to the corner grocery store for a gallon of milk.  She was timed.  I knew how long it took to get down there and back and I gave her five dollars.  She came back right on schedule and gave me the change.  But whenever you take the shackles off the prisoner, they will stretch their muscle.

Later that evening I went in to her room and looked down in the wastebasket.  I don't know why I did, I just did and there in the basket was a candy bar wrapper.  Kudos to her for not hiding it like she normally did, but where did this come from.  This child did not have money.  She did not have an opportunity to "get" money so where did it come from?

Of course, Stupid had been tattooed back on to my forehead and had to be removed.  I asked Worm where the wrapper came from.  Her response did not surprise me, "I don't know." Like I hadn't used that a million and two times in my youth.  I had to draw her a picture of logic, how I knew that this paper wrapper didn't just materialize in her basket like a magic trick.  After what seemed like eternity, she confessed, she stole it from the grocery store.  Forty cent candy bar.  She had money in her little scrawny hands to buy the milk. Why didn't she just tell me that she bought herself a candy bar when she gave me back the change? I don't know why children lie, they just do.

I think what I did next surprised  her.  I told her to get dressed and we were taking a trip to the grocery store and she was going to confess to her sin.  I was rolling the dice as this could have been enough to throw her back into juvenile and I'd be right there next to her.  But I could not look the other way.  What message did that send?

We drove up to the store and she asked for the manager.  She told him that she had stolen the candy bar and apologized.  I was standing there waiting for the  manager to decide what he wanted to do.  This store sat across from MSU, I am sure they were the target for many a five finger discount every day.

He thanked her for the apology and said all she had to do was pay for it.  What? She looked at me for the forty cents and I looked at her like she'd just sprouted a third eye.  I told the manager that SHE did not have the money to pay for the candy bar and so now what was his plan.  I was hoping she was shaking in her knee  highs wondering where this was going to go.  He said he could call the police.  Please do, I'll dial the phone for you.  What did I have to do to get this girl to understand that you just didn't pick up whatever you wanted and put it in your pocket without consequences!

He called the police and they came to the store.  We ended up driving down to the police station and I could tell she was nervous, but they pulled her record and made a new report.  She was seventeen at the time.  He told her she could do this as many times as she wanted to as a juvenille, but  once she turned eighteen they could take action and arrest her.  But for now, they just made a record and it was locked up after she turned of age. 

It is a wonder I didn't cold cock this young officer who thought he was being nice.  All the "threats" of the juvenille court dissipated with those words.  She could do this time and time again for close to another year and just get her hand slapped.  We left the station and I reinforced in a rather stern voice that if she tired that again, she'd be dealing with me.  We didn't tell Killer of this incident. He would have buried her that night. But I was so angry with her.  I was fighting to keep her in school to graduate. I was counting my days to freedom and I was so tired of being in this mix of chaos between this child who wanted to fight me every step and the man who wanted to control my every step.

A Breath of Freedom was on the Horizon

Worm was determined to follow in my footsteps.  I informed her that my lack of a college degree was holding me back and in those eight years since I had graduated from high school, there were few jobs that paid well that didn't require a college degree.  I told her she needed a back up plan.  Killer gave her some monopoly money and the want ads.  He told her to find a job and an apartment and then he proceeded to prove to her that life outside of the Henshaw Homestead was expensive.  She couldn't work at McDonald's and have an apartment, car and pay utilities.  She even considered taking the bus, but it didn't help her bottom line.

Killer felt she needed more discipline.  Can you imagine that? He likened her to him as a young adult.  He joined the service, but he failed to tell her that he enrolled in college to avoid the draft and then was drafted for poor grades and irresponsible behavior. He didn't want to go to college and he didn't want to be drafted so he worked the system and got caught.

According to him the service matured him, but if truth be told, I think the time served in Vietnam, scarred him. When he returned to the States he applied to MSU and there were  many  protesters against the war.  He was wearing his fatigues (this is his story to me, so if it appears questionable, excuse me) and the students protesting were aggressive toward him.  He in turn confronted them in an aggressive behavior and trouble stewed for him. 

As I have said, I have never served and I can't even imagine the fear that would flow through your veins. I do  not see how it would not change you and to return to the States and not be supported for your service as you are today, would be difficult to swallow. 

He took Worm to a recruiter and he signed her up to join the service immediately after she graduated.  I really don't think this was her game plan at all, but he forced her hand, and she could not sit in front of this recruiter and tell him she really wasn't interested, with Killer sitting right there  next to her.

Meanwhile, I continued to work many hours and travel. I continued to attend conferences and meet more people that I would never have  met in Killer's sheltered bubble he placed me in. One particular year, at the annual conference at Boyne Mountain, Lois had suggested that I participate in the activities after dinner.  You got it, after my curfew!  I could not defy Killer's rule that I call him before eight and to not leave my room afterwards. He would have my neck when I came home.

There was a social hour as people were arriving for this three day conference,  I was a speaker the next day, but by now I was a seasoned speaker and was going to do as I always did, present off the cuff.  I did best just winging it about whatever the subject was I was presenting. At the social hour, I  met a gentleman who was a vendor and sold annuities.  He was very handsome and very attentive to my every movement.  It wasn't his attentiveness that I was attracted to, Killer was more than attentive to my every move, almost to a fault. It was that I wasn't tense wondering if I was doing the right thing. Was I on the right side of the door so he could open it for me?  Was my back straight as I walked?  Was my head up?  Was I speaking properly? I didn't  have to think about where I was going to sit.  Killer had a phobia about sitting with his back to the door, so since I always would be in  front of  him, I  had to make sure where ever we sat, he had a clear view of the door. 

We chatted briefly, well it felt briefly, but as the social hour ended, everyone went their own way.  The next day after I had given my presentation, there was another social hour and this man approached me again.  We  chatted about the day, he played golf with clients, I gave a presentation.  As the social hour came to a draw, he asked me to join him for dinner.  We were going into Traverse City with a group of others, but I jumped in his car and it didn't take us to the restaurant every one was heading to.  

Now, I must have forgotten my rule that I learned in high school, always drive yourself.  He took us to a quaint little restaurant and we had dinner alone. We talked about our spouses.  Our work.  Our interests outside of work and just about every thing.  I didn't have to drink a" before dinner" cocktail as Killer required.  I didn't have to have an" after dinner" drink as Killer demanded.  I ordered for myself.  Spoke to the waiter myself and told him what I wanted.  Killer did not allow me to order my food.  He would ask me what I wanted and order it for me. One would have thought I was not capable of speaking when we went restaurants.

As dinner ended, it was after nine o'clock.  He asked me if I wanted to join the others.  Everyone was meeting at the Holiday End.  I already missed my curfew.  I was almost four hours from home, what was he going to do, kill me? So we took off for Holiday Inn.  Lois was so surprised to see me as I had never attended these after hour parties.

We danced, we laughed.  I didn't just dance with this salesman, I danced with co-workers and members.  I had such fun! And then the night was over.  He took  me back to the resort and walked me to my room.  He was such a gentleman.  He made sure I got inside and said he would see me the next day.  It was well after one in the  morning.  Killer had called and left a message.  

My Cinderella bubble burst and I came back to Earth.  I had to call him.  I didn't hesitate.  I didn't do anything that I was ashamed of.  I didn't cross any boundary except I didn't call him before eight.  That in my book is not a crime.  Not calling him at all, well, that might have been a crime in his book and probably in mine had the shoe been on the other foot.

He was very short when he asked me where I had been.  I was not drunk.  I had not had a drink all night except Pepsi.  I told him how much fun I had and who I was with.  There was nothing to hide.  He knew this salesman I was with. Killer and I were still on insurance and we knew many of the same people, but  he was not happy that I had dinner with this  man. He ended the conversation, "Beadie, tomorrow night you are in when I tell you to be and you call me. No more acting like a school girl." 

Cindy was getting her legs back.  No one was going to tell me what to do, ask my Mother.  And at twenty five to tell me that I had a curfew, oh, hell no!  What was he going to do, kill  me?

The next day was our last day at the conference.  I had made several new acquaintances at this conference because I went out after the meetings all day. My confidence was boosted.  Men told me how beautiful I was.  I was told that I was funny.  Compliments were flowing in on how well I was dressed.  I was just surprised I had been noticed and by women as well.  No one saw me outside of that office environment or outside of the hospital environment where I was professional and quiet.

Things changed for me that night. I had fun. I hadn't had fun like this in years. It was clean fun.  I loved to dance and I loved the freedom of being Killer free.

The Punishment Must Fit the Crime

Worm had gained fifty pounds in that short time that she was away.  She looked like a completely different person as she had grown a few inches as well and her hair was a little longer. I dreaded the drive back home.  I knew the minute the door closed on the car, the lecturing would begin and not end until we drove into the driveway some 900 miles away.

She had picked up a southern accent in the short time she’d been there.  It is quite easy when you are exposed to it day in and day out.  Killer was quick to point out that she had to lose that. She had picked up what he referred to as lazy southern language and she had to nip that in the bud as well.  She was not going to talk like that! Now mind you, Killer was born in the United States, Lansing, Michigan but he’d pull this fake British accent out and lay it on you in a nano second when he was first introduced to you. It slowly would subside to his normal voice but it did not go unnoticed by anyone that he spoke to.  They were curious as to where he was from.  I didn’t want to tell them this was not a British accent but an alien accent from another universe that they did not want to encounter, but these little stories only played in my head as I did not dare to speak.

Worm would be entering her senior year when she returned to East Lansing.  She was sixteen years old, just shy of seventeen and once again, her life would change dramatically as the clamps of constraint were tightened even more.

She had not taken drivers education yet.  This is such an important time in a child’s life, but I had to keep her on the straight and narrow. I figured if I held off on driver’s education until the last half of her senior year, it would keep her motivated to stay in school.  I had just ten months until she graduated and I was on my path to freedom.

After her first day as a senior she returned home to prove again to me that she thought she was smarter than I was. I guess every parent faces this challenge at one time or another.  Youth feels that they are writing a new book on their experiences, they don’t realize the book had been written generations ago and very little changes. History repeats itself, the only thing that changes are the faces and the names.

She presented me with a change in her schedule. Could you believe that somehow there was a mix up in classes and “they” put her in driver’s education. Well if I didn’t slap myself in the forehead and wipe the word stupid off of it! She was fresh back from freedom, sentenced to ten more months of hell and the first thing she attempts is what had landed her in a world of hurt in the first place, lying. This promise I had made to the juvenile court was going to land me in prison. I didn’t bring Worm into this world, but I was capable of taking her out. How could I get her to understand that she just had months until she was free, white and eighteen!

Killer had resigned from disciplining her, but someone who controls everything cannot step back and watch the world go by.  He was livid that she was so disgustingly fat! Who would love that?  No man would find her attractive!  She was sixteen year old; she shouldn’t be trying to be attractive to a man!

He tightened the reins on the scales. She had to weigh herself in front of Killer every morning before she left for school. She was not allowed breakfast, she was not allowed lunch.  When she came home at night, she was to step back on those scales in front of Killer.  If she weighed more, no dinner. For anyone who knows anything about weight and scales, you will always weigh less in the morning and if you drink anything, let’s say water from the fountain at school, chances are you might weigh more at night. He wasn’t buying it, she didn’t weigh less after school, she was eating and she wouldn’t be getting dinner.

One particular night as I entered her bedroom, the stench of spoiled food hit me in the face again.  Time to tear the room apart looking for the hairy monster that lurked somewhere from within her not so private domain. Sure enough, under her mattress I found the culprit and it was in full bloom.

Killer had another pet peeve.  Not taking care of what you were given or respecting what others owned.  He owned that mattress in his book and she apparently did not respect the fact that he had given her a mattress to sleep in, so he beat her feet again and banished her to the closet.

This house was built who knows when, but the closets were small and her closet was the smallest. If I had to guess, her closet was probably smaller than three feet by three feet.  These closets were built when families had one suit or dress for Sunday and a few work clothes for the week.

Since she disrespected the mattress he had provided to her, she could sleep in the closet.  I stood in the hallway outside of her room.  My eyes and ears deceiving me.  The closet? He warned her, if her legs and feet so much as stretched beyond the door frame, he would deal with her again. She crawled in the closet and curled up so that her entire body was in the closet.  He partially closed the door so she’d not be able to stretch out and he left the room.

I still was standing there in shock. He expected her to sleep in this closet all night long and not stretch her legs outside of the door frame? He headed off to bed.  I finished what I was doing and still trying to comprehend what had just happened. I looked in on Worm and she was sleeping, all tucked up in that closet.  I walked down to our bedroom and faced the Devil again.

Was this really necessary?  He was expecting her to sleep like this all night, in the closet?  Yes, was his reply, no explanation, no discussion. I turned and walked out of the bedroom and went back to the kitchen.  I just couldn’t imagine this was going to go on all night.  I returned to our bedroom much later.  He was feeling a bit frisky.  I guess being an ass does that to you but I showed no interest and he knew that I was upset.  He rolled over but I didn’t have to wait too long, he got up and went down to Worm’s room.  He told her she could get into bed and came back to our bedroom.

Silently, I felt another victory, but I was not going to gloat.  Something had to break and it couldn’t be Worm or I.

Decisions Are Made by Men, Not Women

When I wasn’t home, I was Cindy Marie.  I enjoyed my work.  I enjoyed meeting new people and I enjoyed not being that wall flower.  It is not that I didn’t love Killer, but my love had changed dramatically from the days of the whirl wind romance.  I was maturing.  I was discovering that I had worth and that I was good at something.

In 1984, Pop died and Killer lost his job after fourteen years with Michigan Mutual.  They closed their doors and sold out to Amerisure.  He could have transferred with them, but he refused to move, so he was unemployed.  He was devastated that he was out of a job and he really had no idea how to find one.

The realization that his dream job ended was an eye opener for him.  Killer got up each morning and met his cronies at Sambo’s for breakfast.  Around 10:00 he’d roll into the office and work for a bit, before breaking for lunch.  He played cards with insurance agents in the break room for 90 minutes and in the afternoon he hit the road to go “adjust” claims.  This might take him to Owosso where he’d hang with his body shop buddies at Stewart Auto Body and about mid afternoon he’d come home for the day.  It was a cake walk.  Not to say some days he wasn’t a little busier, but his routine at Michigan Mutual was pretty prime for the pay he received.

He was clueless on how to seek employment.  This man who ruled our world was lost. I actually saw the weak side of him for a brief fleeting moment.  I’m a person who doesn’t sit around and wait for the world to happen, I take charge.  I sat down and started asking him about his employment history and I put together his resume.  Killer stayed home and worked in the yard that spring.  I scoured the want ads and I found positions he could apply for.  I sent his resume out and all he had to do was interview if the calls came in.  I was on the road, but I still found time to do this for him.  He always threw in my face that he was a college graduate and that I was not, but I guess this high school graduate was good at finding employment as he had an interview after the third resume was sent by me.

He interviewed at a company that specialized in medical malpractice.  He did not have a clue how to adjust med mal claims, but he got the job and he was earning twice what he earned at Michigan Mutual.  While he had to interview for the position, I was the woman standing behind him running that show.  He never said a word or thanked me.  I guess that is another wifely duty that I didn’t know existed. I supported him, unlike the times I was unemployed where he cut me down every step of the process.

It was about this time that Killer came home to inform me he’d bought a new toy. He had been driving past Williams Volkswagen/BMW and he saw this car on the lot.  He stopped by to talk to the salesman and ended up taking it for a test drive.  He came home to pick me up.  He wanted to show me something and took me to the dealership.  He loved this car but we had four cars and two drivers. He had bought the car on his first trip to the dealership.  This wasn’t a decision to be made by the two of us, it has already been made.  He drove the vehicle home.  He just needed me to drive him there so he could drive it home.  I called this car the White Crow. Killer had lost a bet that he couldn’t go a year without buying a new car.  It was a 1981 BMW three series. It wasn’t brand new, but it was another car.  Killer couldn’t just drive a plain car; he had to sink money into them to make them unique. 

For instance, the Vega that he bought was a Vega that had been totaled and purchased from the junk yard.  He paid to have it rebuilt, he had the insides stripped and had the seats and interior redone in material from Cadillac.  He replaced the motor with one that was built for speed.  Ask the police officer who pulled him over on Grand River Avenue in East Lansing when he took the car from zero to eighty in one city block at three in the morning.  No dashboard in the car, all the instruments were hanging from wiring as he was having the dashboard custom built. The officer asked him if he knew how fast he was going as he flashed the light across the missing dash board.  Killer had no idea as he pointed out the car was under construction.  The officer informed him of the speed he had clocked him at.  You see the officer was directly behind Killer in a police car.  Killer did not know it was the police as he could not see the car due to no rear view mirror in the car.

This officer must have thought he was nuts.  What sane forty year old dressed in his army fatigues pull this stunt in downtown East Lansing on Grand River Avenue, in front of MSU at three in the morning? The officer let him go with a warning.  I think it was because he thought he was a few lug nuts low on smarts, but again, just my opinion.

Over the period of our marriage, he dropped close to $100,000 between the custom paint job, special tires, the engine and the interior of this car but now he had a new project, the White Crow and the price tag on that car could have funded several college degrees and master degrees as well.

Another lesson was learned, we were not in this together, and he ruled everything. No decisions were made as a couple; he would always run the show regardless. He didn’t approve of my personal belongings when we got married and I was told to sell them.  He didn’t like the car I drove, so he traded it out for what he wanted.  He didn’t like the bra I wore, so he replaced them. He didn’t like the clothes I wore from J W Knapp’s, Sears or J C Penney’s, so he bought me expensive clothes from boutiques. He would always control me on every level possible.

Freedom Is A Test Drive Away

I was promoted to Claims Consultant within the first two years of my employment.  Lois was taking on more managerial responsibilities and I would be assisting on the more difficult claims as well as litigation. This involved mediating claims within the Workers Compensation system.  I would have to present my case to a mediator and if the injured worker was represented by counsel, I would be representing our member without the benefit of a law degree.

One of my early mediations was held in Saginaw, Michigan.  I do not remember what the case was about, but the plaintiff attorney was a young spunky woman who had a chip on her shoulder.  I am very practical in my reasoning and presentation of facts.  I was not about to enter this mediation unprepared, but I was new at this and she knew it.  She tore me up and ripped me apart in this hearing, but I stood my ground.  I was so taken back by her demeanor though as I had never encountered someone who was so aggressive in such a professional setting.

Afterwards, the male attorneys comforted me and told me that she was a little bitter.  She was the daughter of a plaintiff attorney who was known as a pit bull and she was trying to make a name for herself.  Her name was Debra.  She confronted me outside of the court room to tell me that I did well in the hearing.  I about fell over.  This woman all but tore my skin off and deep fried it before serving it to a pack of wild animals.  I later learned that she had been baptized this way by the attorneys practicing in that area.  She felt it was her duty to put all new fresh meat through the grinder similar to how she had been treated when she became an attorney.  Again, I discovered, women do not band together, they will shred you in to pieces to make a rag rug out of your hide to prove a point.  My skin got a little thicker that day and I stood a little taller.  That would never happen again.  I would not allow some one to walk all over me in front of people I worked with every day.

With my promotion to Claims Consultant I was offered a company car.  I could choose any car that was made in the USA. I had a budget as I recall for options as well and depending on what I wanted on the car, I could drive it for free or for very little money.  I chose a brand new 1984 Ford Thunderbird and I put some options on it.  The car cost me less than $25.00 per pay period to drive.  I could finally get rid of the Suburban House wife car!

I was so excited about this!  Killer had a company car and I felt I was moving up in the world.  With my new promotion I was making over $20,000 a year and I was beaming. I was just shy of turning 24 years old.  My father had worked at Fisher Body and when I graduated from high school, I asked if he could get me into the shop.  It was good money and I was all for good money.  Dad looked me square in the eyes and said, “No daughter of mine will ever work in the factory. You will have to find something else to do.” I didn’t know what I could do to make good money.  Mother always told me they wouldn’t pay or help us with a college degree and they never really pushed furthering our education, so I buckled down in insurance and I was determined to be more than a secretary.  I was on my way!

Killer didn’t like the new Cindy Marie. I was making almost as much as he was and I was now getting a company car. I guess I was proving that a woman could make it in a man’s world and not break a sweat.

He told me I didn't want a black Thunderbird. He informed me that I would order a red Thunderbird.  I did not like red cars, but Killer loved red cars.  His Vega was red with gold like thunderbolt painted across the side, his company car, a Chevy Nova was red.  His MG was a burgundy red.  I wanted black period. He told me I had better order red and to not come home with any thing less than cherry red.  I ordered the car, in red.  I stewed for days about this and finally called the comptroller to see if he had placed the order.  He had, but there was time to still make changes.

A few weeks passed and my new car was delivered.  I called Killer to inform him it was here and how excited I was.  He told me to drive home for lunch so he could see it.  I jumped in the car and drove from the west side of Lansing all the way to East Lansing with not a care in the world. He and Worm were standing there as I pulled my new shiny black car into the driveway.  Yes, my balls were starting to grow and I was not letting some man tell me what color my car had to be.  I already was his wind up Barbie doll and this Barbie was rolling in a black Thunderbird.  What was he going to do? Kill me?  I survived my Mother. Killer didn’t realize I was blossoming in to a very independent woman and I’d soon be flying away from the confines of the controlled nest called the Henshaw Homestead.