lavenderdiary | 23 FEBRUARY, 1983

23 February, 1983

I’m not sure how to even go about writing this. I’m so mad—so upset! I told Jack I’m not anymore but oh I am!

This evening, after supper, there came a knock on the front door. As it’s Wednesday, I didn’t expect it to be anyone important, least of all Jack, and was terribly surprised when Papa called up the stairs and said Jack was at the door! Well, since he normally comes in, I automatically assumed he just stopped by for a quick visit and wasn’t intending on staying.

But Papa gave me a very odd look as I jumped down the stairs and I became instantly worried. Papa never gives me looks like that, and as I was just grounded a week ago, I surely wasn’t looking for something worse!

I can’t believe what Jack did. I came to the door, which was open, and in the light I saw that he was covered in cuts and bruises. He leaned in to kiss my forehead as if nothing had happened! He had a bruised eye, a split and bleeding lip, his clothes were rumpled and dirty and torn and ugh. Ugh ugh ugh I can’t believe him at all! How could he do this?! I thought my friends were lying when they said his sort is the next step below being an outright skinhead. I thought that Jack was different but he’s the same!

Turns out that one of his so-called FRIENDS basically said that I had him whipped and so they got in a fight. I suppose it’s terribly insulting to know that you’re attached to someone. I certainly know I would be OH SO OFFENDED if one of my friends said I was in love and getting a bit distracted.

EXCEPT THAT I WOULDN’T CARE! Because I know it’s true and that doesn’t bother me in the least! I guess I’m just a nuisance to him. He’ll never want me seen with him where others would spot us, I’m sure. How can anything work if he hides me away?

And then I had a sickening realisation as I went to my bathroom to get plasters and cleansing ointment, that he’ll probably get himself killed out on the streets one day. I don’t want to lose him but this was certainly a wake up call for me!

He even fought with me about it. He seemed to think I was mental for not wanting him to fight. He said he was sticking up for me and all sorts of rubbish and he got annoyed with me when he realised that I wasn’t having any of it. ANNOYED WITH ME FOR NOT WANTING HIM TO FIGHT! I can’t believe him! There was dirt all over him and his jacket was torn and I sent it downstairs to Mum to get it fixed by someone who can work with leather. He got mad at me for that, as well! It’s like I can’t do anything right if I’m not a slut or a whore or any number of things that Jack won’t be embarrassed to be seen with in public.

I rather suppose he wanted to spend the night but I told him to go. I was shaking with anger when I shut the door behind him. He may have been sticking up for me, but I feel terribly betrayed.