MAGIC WORD

     Do I really want to tell the world another installment of my drama with Park? I do!

     Roberta told me that she had trouble breathing sometimes and choked and coughed at night. My dad's doctors told me about the danger of the bed-bound patients getting lung problems. In fact, if it wasn't for the Pneumonia that he developed, my father might have still been with us!
     So, I took it seriously. I made Roberta do breathing exercises (in - through the nose, out - through the mouth), went and bought ginger and lemon and cooked up some tea with them; made her drink it with lots of honey.
     This morning I happened to mention it again in front of Park. He said: "It's OK, I made her pear tea for cough!"
     I replied that, usually, ginger and lemon worked better. He yelled like a banshee: "Don't say that word! I am her husband, not you!" I walked in front of him, made him look at me and said: "I notice that you yell at me for no reason. I'd like you to be more respectful to me in my house! I am not yelling and neither should you be!"
     You would think that I insulted him terribly by those words, said calmly, but firmly. He began to run around, shake his little finger at me and accuse me of abuse and in-humility. I continued saying that he has to show more respect. We met in a very narrow place between the kitchen and dining room. Usually, I would let him pass first, but today I stood there, blocking the way. He didn't want to ask me to move, so he just gestured wildly and, I might add, sharpi-ishly for me to let him pass. I asked:
-  "What is it that you want?" He gestured for me to move aside. I said:
-  "Do you want me to move?"
     He still gestured frantically.
-  "You have to ask!"
-  "Please, let me go!!!"
     I moved and added: "Please is a magic word!"

       The guy was so mad, he began to yell again. I said:
-  "If you yell at me in my own house, I'll have to call the police!" - and took the phone. I dialed just some random numbers and pretended to talk to the police about coming to see about him. He yelled: "Yes, call the police, I'll tell them everything about you!" - ran to his room, got dressed and left through the sliding door. I didn't see him since. Roberta, who enjoyed me standing up to her emotional abuser, told me that he came back and asked if the police were here. "I don't know," - she answered - "Someone was here!" Park decided at that moment that he had something that he needed to do the whole day. As soon as he left. I felt tremendously relieved. I wish, he'd stay gone!