A Dance With the Devil: A True Story of Marriage to a Psychopath by Barbara Bentley

Author:Barbara Bentley [Bentley, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2008-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

Because I worked five days a week and John hadn’t started to teach, it was more convenient for him to coordinate the details of the second mortgage with Household Finance Corporation. The papers were consolidated and ready to be signed. Late in the afternoon during the first week of October, John and I walked into the HFC office in a strip mall near our house. A blond woman in her twenties was on the telephone. She gave us a smile and a wave to come and sit down at her desk until she was finished, and pushed a fat manila folder toward me. I opened it and started reviewing the forms. “Thanks for waiting,” Kirsten said as she hung up. “Would you like any coffee or tea?”

We both declined. I had too much acid in my stomach already. This was not a pleasurable event.

“Okay, let’s get down to business,” she said. Using her pen as a pointer, she commented on each section of the form—confirming the distribution of funds, the loan amount, annual interest, penalties. I followed along nervously. When she got to the section on life insurance, she paused and looked at John. He spoke. “Kirsten said we could get insurance that would pay off the loan if you die.”

“What?” His statement caught me off guard. We had never discussed life insurance. “That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “You’re much older than I. If we take it out on anyone, it should be you.”

“Can’t,” John replied. “I’m an old fart, and it’s too expensive. If we take it out on you it’s only fifty dollars a month.”

“We don’t have an extra fifty dollars a month in our stretched budget,” I reminded him.

We talked back and forth for several minutes. I could not understand John’s insistence. He bombarded me with reasons. I resisted. I would not tolerate his nonsense, and I didn’t care if we were playing out this little drama in front of a stranger. “We can’t afford it and that’s that,” I scolded. “Please continue, Kirsten.”

“This is an equity loan. You can draw money against it. Do you want to require one or two signatures?” she asked, pushing a signature card toward us. “One,” John interjected immediately.

“Two,” I countered. “It’s safer that way.”

“Not really,” he returned. “What if you weren’t available and we needed money right away?”

“Nothing would be that urgent.”

John would not give up on this contentious point. He had lost the insurance issue, so he dug his heels in and would not surrender. His insistence wore me down. My head pounded. Butterflies danced in my stomach. I had begun to lose trust in John and was apprehensive about future financial abuse.

“If we approve one signature and change our minds, can we make it two?” I asked.

“The signature choice can be changed back to require two,” Kirsten confirmed.

“In that case, make it one . . . for now.”

After we signed the papers, I glared at John. “Remember, this is the last time we are doing this!”

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