July 6th, 1976
Desolate at this failure. Grimly starting another week. Into work early this morning. Already nervy from coffee and cigarettes. A few minutes to write. All the eloquent theorizing is hollow at this betrayal. All the old feelings come rushing back and I know so clearly what happened last January. I remember now why I left Richard. His overwhelming power to destroy me– and my own impotence at this vulnerability. Liberation be damned. What basic sense of respect for me and for the integrity of our relationship would have kept Richard from his actions last night? And here I am hurting again, and hating that more than anything. Richard invites his friend David out. Two friends come also. For dinner. After dinner drinks and there in front of us all Richard coming on to one of the guys. Rubbing his leg with his foot under the table. Stoicism, I suppose, shut down my machinery. Suddenly it was Dick again, and that night at the Paramount Steak House. Suddenly it was Joel and the photographs from Florida. Suddenly it was the court and Richard and that guy staring at me. And suddenly I am what I always have been– my mother, betrayed. A woman unloved. Forced to sit through this humiliation while Richard publicly abandons me. I am numb this morning from this beating. Trust Richard and sooner or later he will to do this to you again. I know this now– and I know the huge faith I have had in our new relationship has been a sham. A hollow, empty sham.