The One Day I Almost Killed Him

Ah, the age-old question,  “Did you and Rick ever fight?”  has been asked enough times in recent months that I decided it would be entertaining to share about the one time I “almost” went to prison. Looking back on that day, I had become center stage in our own true crime drama, when in reality, it was more like a classic sitcom about marital tiffs that most to whom are in long term partnerships can relate. You know what I’m talking about: when you are so angry that for a split second, you can see yourself choking them with your bare hands. That is until you regain your wits about you and decide after seeing Orange is the New Black, prison life isn’t for you. Seriously though, I am secretly relieved there was no social media back then to prove how irrational I could be at times. However, this particular time I know my “crazy” was warranted, but you can judge for yourself.

Sure, we had our fair share of silly arguments or drama filled fights complete with tear filled rage, packing a suitcase to “leave” only to realize the nearest family was five hundred miles away. Red-faced, sheepishly unpacked said suitcase and tried to keep some form of dignity  intact while avoiding all eye contact. That is until three hours later, when I am sitting on his lap laughing at our fight. Suddenly I realized I was supposed to punish him by not speaking to him until he apologized for making me cry! Face palm! I was a sucker for his blue eyes.

In the early days, I was the fighter, and Rick? Well, he was the Mr. Miyagi of not engaging. I'd be storming around like a tempest in a teapot while he calmly weathered the storm. It took me a while to realize that yelling at him was like trying to argue against a brick wall. A very patient brick wall. I suppose it’s fair to say, I fought. Rick didn’t.

Growing up, it was never modeled for me what it meant to have a healthy disagreement. I found myself dipping my toes in what I was familiar with. Violence. It is no joke when I say I was hard to love, especially in the beginning. He tolerated my ridiculousness like a Zen master. In fact, the last time I acted ridiculous, I tried to slap him, and he grabbed my wrist as he looked me in the eyes and declared, “I will never hit you Dar. Never. And you will not hit me either.”

Boom. Boundary set.

That was the end of that. I never acted like that again. I learned how to communicate instead of fighting, so big tiffs were exceedingly rare. My Miyagi would not engage, ever. On those rare occasions where we both got angry, in the moment, there was nothing funny about them. I laugh  now because they were mostly silly, and I’m confused as to why I thought otherwise.

With the exception of that one time, during the  almost-murder incident, when I reverted back to my “crazy” ways and Rick about paid with his life.

But first I have to share with you how we were able to find an outlet without resorting to screaming hurtful things out of pure anger. When the kids were little, if we were starting to feel irritated by each other, Rick would declare a family wrestling match was in order. Both of us competitive enough to not let the other “win.” He was stronger than me, so I learned how to “cheat” and get the upper hand. I wasn’t beyond inflicting pain on him by “fish-hooking” the side of his mouth with a finger and pulling hard or pushing on the soft spot behind his ear until he yelped. Yes, I fought dirty, and I never felt bad for it. He had an advantage being a male and twenty pounds heavier, he was a lot stronger that I was. I tutored our kids in my “secret strategies” so they could win sometimes, too. For that, I am completely unapologetic.

The wrestling matches became less frequent over the years, but Rick would still ask me when I seemed a little grumpier than usual. With a mischievous crooked grin, he would ask playfully, “Woman! Do we need to wrestle?”

Depending on my mood, sometimes I would laugh and shake my head. Other times, I would say, “Yes. I need to kick your ass, to remind you who’s really in charge!”

Picture this: one time I was sure Rick had accidentally dumped my wedding rings down the sink, but he refused to admit to it. Back to the crime scene; cue suspenseful music.

Like most people who have a family and both parents work full time, the house chores happened on the weekends. Every few months for years, during my house cleaning day, I would also do a deeper clean and that included cleaning the jewelry I wore daily. I had a cleaning solution I liked to use to keep my rings sparkling. As it was, my diamond was so tiny one would barely notice if the diamond were dirty. Nevertheless, I loved my ring because of the sweet story behind it.

In short, Rick bought my engagement ring with his graduation money. So, yes, I cherished my ring as if it were the biggest and most precious of diamonds.

I placed my rings in a cup of the solution on the windowsill above the sink  for me to scrub later after they had a chance to soak. I went about my day cleaning the house and doing laundry before our busy work week started. Rick had been doing his own set of chores, so we hadn’t been interacting much. When we had finished most of our chores, it was time for him to watch baseball on TV and I would start dinner.

But first I needed to scrub my ring.

I walked into the kitchen and paused when I noticed the cup was gone. Weird. I was sure I had set it right on the windowsill, but it wasn’t there. Puzzled, I went upstairs into the master bathroom in case I had absentmindedly placed it up there. Still nothing. I came back downstairs feeling very confused, looking again on the windowsill as if it would magically reappear. Still nothing, it simply disappeared. I asked Rick, “Babe. Did you see a cup by the sink with my rings in it?”

Never taking his eyes off of the baseball game on TV. He replied, “Nope.”

I kept searching high and low, ignoring the sinking feeling that they got dumped down the sink by accident. I was becoming more worried and starting to envision it washing down the drain forever. I felt a sharp pang in my heart at the thought of it and immediately felt sadness wash over me before the panic set in.

I went back to Rick in the living room and interrogated him a second time like a detective in a crime drama. He was still ignoring me, so I resorted to standing in front of the TV, hoping that would force him to actually pay attention to my words. He said he didn’t remember seeing it, even when he washed some dishes. I froze. The dark feeling of dread creeping into my heart.

No.

He didn’t.

Did he?

Surely, he would have noticed as the rings hit the bottom of the stainless-steel sink! When I spoke, my voice was high pitched with panic. I asked him a third time as I blurted out my fear.

“Rick. Do you remember grabbing that cup with a foamy red solution in it? I’m starting to think you dumped it down the sink and my rings were in there!”

Annoyed, he leaned to the side, straining to look around me, so he wouldn’t miss the next play in the game. Still not looking at me he replied,  “Dar. I didn’t touch your rings! I would have heard them if they were in there. Why are you pissed at me because you lost them?”

My heart was beating wildly in my chest, and my face was getting hot with anger. Tears would soon follow. I envisioned punching him in the nose, so he’d snap to attention. He was not listening to me, and it was infuriating. Tired of being ignored, I spun around, turned the TV off as I glared at him defiantly. In protest, he slapped his hands on his knees as he glared back.

Seething, I said between clenched teeth, “Dammitt Rick! You dumped my rings down the sink!!  I know that’s what happened! We have to get them out! Now!”  

By “we” I meant “him” while I  hovered impatiently demanding an update every 3.5 seconds. They were gone forever, and I wanted to strangle him because he wasn’t going to move a muscle until the  baseball game was over! At this point, I am trembling with the anger, it was bubbling under the surface now, like a volcano about to spew. It was about to get ugly.

 I continued, not even considering the ugly words spewing from my mouth. Do you ever say something out of pure anger and frustration that you immediately wish you could take back and yet, you’re so mad you don’t?

No? Me either…

Filled with panic, I was furious at us both for not thinking through the possibilities of setting rings in a cup by the sink next to the dishwasher. Where we did dishes...

Instead, it came out like this:

“Oh my God Richard how could you be SO stupid as to grab a cup without looking into it to see what might be in there? I can’t believe you did that!! You need to get them out of that drain, right this second! Those are my wedding rings!”

I smile thinking back on the first time I dropped an F-bomb. The girls were teenagers, having a physical altercation that almost sent me tumbling down the stairs when Bri swung Kayla around, her butt hit me and sent me backwards. I caught myself just in time. More scared than angry,  I surprised myself when I screamed, “Stop this fucking instant!”

Stunned. They froze, both breathing heavily, confused they stared at the crazy, red-faced woman  resembling their mom. Bri released Kayla from the headlock, quickly scurrying into their rooms with their heads hung in shame. Both were careful not to utter another peep, unsure what I might do next.

In that moment, I discovered the power of the  “F” bomb. Somehow they understood immediately I was furious, not just angry. I didn’t even have to raise my voice! It was a parenting game changer. Some would consider it a parenting fail, but not I!

It makes me chuckle at the fact that this fight could have seemed so much worse had there been swearing. The lack of it made it seem like it was a “tame” argument, when in reality I was seriously contemplating murder!

Rick was angry after being called stupid one too many times. His face was red, and his nostrils flared; a sure sign he was reaching his limit, yet my tantrum continued! He was more restrained than I ever was at holding back from saying something hurtful out of anger.

Need I remind you that he had the audacity to dump my rings down the sink while doing dishes?

Unbelievable.

Suddenly, he jumped up,  walked into the kitchen and in a moment of sheer madness, tried to prove his innocence by…

FlIPPING ON THE FREAKING GARBAGE DISPOSAL!!!

As if my rings would magically not be in there, because he decided they weren’t!

Spoiler alert: They Were!

This is where our shenanigans became cringe-worthy and I thank God social media wasn’t a thing.

As he was reaching for the switch, incredulous I screamed, “What are you doing?!”

I knew but was in disbelief as he flipped on the garbage disposal simultaneously yelling, “SEE?! THEY’RE NOT….” His words trailed off quickly, as the disposal began a horrid grinding sound as it mangled something metal. Oh, wait. Could it be my rings??

He could no longer deny it.

His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged as he realized his egregious error a second too late.

He froze. I did not.

A howl of protest erupted from me as I  lunged towards the garbage disposal, my entire body landing on the counter, knocking the wind out of me in my desperate attempt to turn it off before they were destroyed. The spewing of words continued in my fury, competing with the grinding of metal upon metal by the disposal until I managed to turn it off.

Cue the dramatic music as the shouting match of the century was in full tilt. Unkind words were exchanged along with hand gestures to confirm what was being said. I may or may not have threatened to cut off a valued appendage. Each of us accusing the other of greater stupidity. Me crying about how he ruined the sweet symbol of our young love because he was confident he could prove me wrong with a flip of a switch! Sobbing now, I was certain my cherished rings were mangled beyond repair and my tiny diamond lost forever.

I was unfazed by his anger. Devastated over my rings! Without hesitation, I stuck my hand inside of the disposal and frantically started feeling around ignoring the slimy textures of Lord knows what was in there. Finally, I felt my ring! I quickly pulled it up and out of the disposal to assess the damage. Holding my breath as tears streamed down my face. Rick was frozen in place, too scared to move while watching me inspect my precious rings. I stared at them, for several seconds before the reality settled in.

By some miracle, they emerged unscathed! Instantly, relief replaced my anger as I realized my rings were not destroyed. Guilt and shame washed over me for the ugly things I said to him. The relief we both felt was palpable as we sighed at the same time.

Crisis averted, marriage intact, orange prison jumpsuit avoided!

Sometime during our screaming match, the kids wandered in to watch the sitcom compliments of their parents while they mindlessly nibbled on grapes because there wasn’t any popcorn.

We still talk about that fight and laugh at how his “solution” was to turn the garbage disposal on! Now we have adult children to chime in over our antics, too. My mind will never change. I’m confident, it’s obvious to anyone who reads this. If I am honest, I was the true idiot for placing them in a cup right by the dishwasher. But I will take that to my grave and prefer to continue to tease him for being “so stupid.”

Here’s to the occasional garbage disposal incident, name calling, love, laughter, and most importantly NOT committing murder.