Two Liner

Today I’m going to tell you about the day I knew for sure I hated my ex husband, Beans.

Beans and I had been trying to conceive since the first month we spent together. It was mid December. I had missed my period by two days.

So I did what any, stupid, hopeful woman wanting to complete a family would do. I went to Rite Aid and bought a pregnancy test.

Once I got it back to Beans’ apartment, I explained to him how it worked. 

One line means no baby, two lines means baby.

Beans is a simple man so I explained it as simply as possible.

With my fingers crossed, I took the test into the bathroom, pee’d on the stick, set an alarm and then placed it upside down on the counter to wait.

The alarm went off.

“Beans, would you like the honor?” I asked.

Beans excitedly grabbed the stick and peered into the window.

“Sorry, Hun! Not this time.” He said.

Then, he threw the test in the trash and walked away.

“Wait a minute!” I said.

I reached into the trash. I pulled out the stick.

“Beans! There are TWO LINES!” I screamed.

“Yes, but the second line is too light. I don’t think it counts.”

“Beans! The test has to detect the pregnancy hormone to even form a line! There are no false positives. I’m pregnant!”

Dumb ass.


We were married six weeks later.

Still, Beans wouldn’t move in with me. As a matter of fact Beans didn’t move in with me until I was almost six months pregnant.

You see Beans was living in an apartment under his handicapped brothers name. Beans didn’t want to move until the lease was up. Except, he didn’t know when it was up. Beans told me the lease ended in March.

March came and went.

Beans then said it ended in April.

He did this again in May.

Then June.

I had to put my foot down, or up his ass.

I made him move in with me in June.

His lease still wasn’t up. His mother was very upset with me when he broke the lease but I didn’t care.

Beans has a very special relationship with his mother. As a mater of fact, she used to clean his appartment and do his laundry.

Even when we were living together Beans would spend his lunch breaks at his moms house.

Beans was a 40 year old baby.

Beans helped me pack up my condo and move into our new house. If helping me pack means throwing random things in boxes and breaking half of what I owned.

Beans wasn’t just bad at moving, he also had a knack for flooding the kitchen, overflowing the toilets, touch up painting the walls with the wrong color paint. You name it. Beans fucked it up.

This did not go over well with my OCPD.

Pretty much every task Beans assigned himself was a failure that I had to fix. I would beg him not to do anything when I was at work. He never listened. This always caused an argument.

Beans didn’t like being wrong. I tried to explain to him it wasn’t his fault. He had brain damage. Beans didn’t like hearing the truth.

Beans also had a shopping compulsion. This didn’t go well because Beans had already destroyed his credit. He had a foreclosure before the housing loan crisis. He had a car repossessed. Student loans he never paid off and he had even filed bankruptcy. Beans was used to his mom bailing him out or using his brothers credit line. But thats another story.

Beans also possessed anger management issues.

Usually beans would unleash his anger late at night. He was taking about 15 vicodin a day. Beans didn’t sleep much.

One night when I was roughly seven months pregnant, Beans and I had an argument.

Beans had decided to do laundry. My laundry. Beans put everything in the dryer, including my cotton dresses. He ruined several things.

I was upset.

I told him how stupid he was.

He told me I was crazy.

Beans has no concept of the worth of anything. He grew up spoiled. His mommy bought (and still buys him) whatever he wanted. Beans does not know the value of a dollar. He has never worked for anything in his life.

Our argument went nowhere.

I went to bed.

A few hours later Beans woke me up looking for his car keys.

He was shaking me.

“What the fuck did you do with my keys?”

“What?” I asked in a half asleep daze.

“My keys! You know what I’m talking about! Don’t play dumb.” He screamed.

“I dont know where your fucking keys are. Leave me alone. I have work in a few hours.” I responded.

“As soon as you give me my fucking keys!”

Beans turned on all the bedroom lights. Then he went into the closet and started pulling out all his clothes, throwing them on the floor.

“I’m going to my moms!”

“Great.” I said. “Turn off the light.”

Beans then pulled the covers off of me before pushing me off the bed and started lifting the pillows in search of his keys.

“I told you I don’t have the keys! I’m pregnant you asshole! You can’t be pushing me. You want to kill the baby? Idiot!” I screamed.

“I know you took my keys! You just have to have control over everything!”

He hissed like a snake.

“You dont love anyone but yourself.All you care about it being right!”

“Keep your voice down! PJ is sleeping.” My son was asleep in the other room.

I walked into the hall then down the stairs on a hunt for the stupid keys. I knew I wouldn’t be getting any sleep until he had them.

Thats when it happened.

Four steps from the bottom, Beans came down behind me and shoved me.

I fell.

I grabbed the railing and was able to turn myself enough that I landed on my side instead of my stomache.

I laid there, stunned. Scared. I thought I was going to miscarry.

Beans went into the kitchen. He found his keys and put them in his pocket.

He walked back towards the stairs.

When he was close to me he swung his leg kicking me on my thigh.

“Whats wrong with you! You are going to kill the baby!” I yelled.

He looked down at me, smiled, then he said, with a grin,

“As soon as she is born I’m going to take her away from you. Mark my words.”

Then he walked up stairs and grabbed his clothes.

I waddled back up to the bedroom and got in bed.

I texted my little brother and told him if anything ever happened to me to tell the detectives it was Beans. Then I hid my face under the blanket, shaking and sobbing.

Beans eventually left.

I knew he was gone because he slammed the door as hard as he could. The force caused the walls to shake knocking down and shattering picture frames.

I woke up that morning with the stiffist neck I had ever had. I couldnt move it at all.

At least I wasn’t bleeding.

What the fuck had I gotten myself into and how was I going to get out?

I hate Beans.


  1. How’s that self help book working out for you? Damn, you need a survivor manual. In my neighborhood, give or take a vowel or two, Beans would have had a visit from guys named Sal, Carmine and Vito. A friendly chat in public with hand shakes, hugs and smiles which witnesses would later say looked like a birthday party. Make no mistake his Italian sausage would have shriveled like a Vienna wiener with child support payments made early.


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