Read Online A Dance With the Devil: A True Story of Marriage to a Psychopath by Barbara Bentley - Free Book Online

times had occurred with his first wife. She’d asked for sex when he was busy doing the taxes. He shouldn’t have, he said, but he did lose his temper with her. The other time was when she woke him from one of his nightmares. “Can you really fault me for that one?” he asked.
    I didn’t answer, but I stored his words as good counsel as I decided I would try my best not to provoke his hidden anger that could so quickly and violently explode at me. I vowed never to wake him from one of his nightmares. As for the sex, our lovemaking amounted to nothing after our first month together because of John’s health problems. If it wasn’t his headaches, it was his back; if not his back, his neck. I’d already sworn to him that it didn’t matter, not when two people loved each other. I knew he needed me to take care of him, and by this time in the relationship I was willing to give up anything, even sex, to keep John in my life.
    By now I was tired, worn down. Ready to close my eyes and put the past behind me. As I locked the front door, John called out. “I have an important lunch tomorrow. Can I use one of your other credit cards? I know what you’re thinking, but I promise I’ll get after Vestico to give me the commission check that’s due.”
    I looked back at him, sitting in the rocker, serenely stroking my kitten. How could I turn him down?
    “I’ll leave it on the kitchen counter in the morning,” I heard myself say. On the stairs I stopped midway and turned back to John. “I noticed on the phone bill that there were no charges for those calls to your family.”
    “Oh, that. It’s because I charge all the calls to Grandmother Dannigan’s phone number.”
    “How come you never mentioned it before?”
    “Didn’t think it mattered. Grandmother insisted. See, this way she knows I keep in touch with the family, no matter where I am in the world.”
    “Oh,” I said wearily. “That makes sense.”
    Later, in bed, I again wondered why it was that John never kept in touch with the family when I was at home. I’d have to find out about that, I thought, but another time. I was beat.
     
     
    The next six months were good, and not so good. Good: I was very happy to have an attentive, loving man in my life. Not so good: the man was incredibly irresponsible. My peace of mind had long ago abandoned me. Despite his promises, John’s misuse of my credit continued.
    John’s evasiveness about his family continued as well. One day he presented me with a gift he said had arrived for me from Grandmother Dannigan. I discovered that it had arrived without a card or the brown mailing wrap. When I opened the gift—a sterling silver brush, comb, and mirror set—John told me proudly it had been his grandmother’s. I could see from his expression that I was supposed to feel deeply honored, but I felt only confused. Not that I’d say so and risk insulting him, but if it had been his grandmother’s personal set, why were my initials engraved into each piece? Was I expected to believe she’d had an engraver change them for me?
    Most troubling of all were the finances. Just as they were about to cripple me, John presented me with his commission check. It was large and made up for the three months he’d been in arrears. It was a happy surprise, and so was what he did next . . . fly me again to Mexico City, this time to meet him for a long weekend. It seemed again that life was mostly good.
    John’s health worried me. One minute he seemed fine; the next, his leg would give out and he’d be on the floor in pain. I recall that one afternoon while he was on the stairs, his leg gave out, he tumbled down, and we spent the night at the hospital. After that, I watched him carefully. If he started to fall, I wanted to be around to catch him.
     
     
    One day in spring, John and I set out for a picnic he’d planned as a surprise. I love surprises and enjoy driving, so I started out in a wonderful mood as I sat at the wheel of John’s