Eleven and she was gone.
Eleven is when we waved good-bye.
Eleven is standing still,
Waiting for me to free him
By coming home.
"Jimmy" by TOOL

11 is when we said goodbye.

The 11th month on the 11th day is when I closed the door. I slammed it shut.

Sitting there, watching his pale face, green eyes swimming in pools of tears, shoulders heaving, trying to breathe, feeling like someone knocked him out cold.

That someone was me. The punch came in the form of a small black velvet box with an engagement ring in it.

"I can't say sorry, it's too weak a word. But I can't continue this way. It hasn't felt right for a long time."

"Why did you say yes?"

"You asked me twice, and I thought it was the next logical step. I was wrong."

"You led me on, you fucked me over."

If someone had placed hot pokers over my eyelids at that moment, it would have felt better than hearing him utter those words.

"I'm only 20, I'm in school, I love the classes I have, and I can't be with you, I can't be with your family. You know your brother abused his girlfriends, PLURAL."

Amber. Jennifer. Holly.

Holly's ink black eyes, beseeching me to help her, for a soul confidant. We were in Josh's house, in his room in the basement. She came in and closed the door. She rolled up her left sleeve and her arm revealed large, purple, swollen spots. My eyes filled with tears and I quickly swiped my sleeve against my face.

"How did this happen?"

"I can't say" she said.

"Please tell me."

"It was Pace."
(Josh's brother)

I wanted to cradle her in my arms, hold her close, tell her I would do anything I could to protect her. She was 5"1, Hawaiian, with raven black, stick straight long hair, and a small button nose. She must have been 90 pounds.

I comforted her as best I could and she pressed a crumpled piece of paper into my palm.

After she closed the door, I looked down and saw a phone number scrawled on the slip in my hand.

Days later, in the privacy of my dorm room I called her.

"How are you?"

"He lit my place on fire."

"WHAT?!"

"I was with him, we got into a fight, he slammed me to the ground, yelled at me, kicked me, and then got angry with himself. He took a match and lit my curtains on fire."

"I can call the police."

"You can't. He can't know I told you, he'll beat me up."

The second girl, Pace impregnated. Amber.

Brown eyes, brown hair, plain clothing, chain-smoking, tough-skinned Amber got the crap beat out of her, too.

Then there was Jen. Jen was my love. I loved her like a sister. I never felt so close to another girl as I did her. We had the same baby voice, upon seeing cute animals or kids, or stuffed animals.

Josh loved her. I loved her. The family loved her.

She was a chain-smoker, Italian, in her 20s, long, long Crystal-Gayle hair, green eyes with the blackest longest lashes. She was 4"11 and 88 pounds.

One Saturday Josh made lunch for us when Pace wasn't around.

At one point, I handed her challah, and she started to tear up.

"Guys, you can't say ANYTHING."

"What is it?"

She welled up with tears, swallowed, and continued, then stopped.

Then she quietly said, "I'm hurt."

"What?"

"Your brother has a bad temper, Josh, I've tried everything I can."

"What are you TALKING about, Jen?"

"Last week, we were at the apartment, we fought about something stupid and then I told him I was going to go to my mom's house. He said 'You're not going anywhere.' He dragged me by my hair up the stairs, kicked me in the ribs and yelled at me."

"What the @#$?!" I yelled into the still air.

He has to be stopped.

I witnessed Pace beating her a week later. I ran outside where his hands were in her car, driver's side window, around her neck. I heard her choke loudly, gasp for air. I screamed and told Josh. He was dumbfounded, befuddled, searching for words. "I'm going to have a little chat with Pace since no one seems to want to confront him." "That's a bad idea, Suzanne," he said.

I knocked on his brother's door and let myself in.

"Pace, we might be family someday. Nothing justifies violence."

"What do you know, you and Josh fight all the time."

"He never lifts a finger. I want to help you, let's consult a therapist, a Rabbi, someone."

"No fucking way."

"If you don't get help, I'll be forced to take action." "Fuck off," he said. I never spoke as bluntly to him as I did that day.

With that, I left his room.

I went to sleep next to Josh, who admonished me for chastising his brother. Then he fell fast asleep and I lay awake for hours thinking about Jen, Amber, and Holly.

I told his parents of Pace's problem, they ignored me, said I was exaggerating. They know their son. I told a Rabbi at university and asked for advice. He told me to bring Josh in for a consultation, to find out where he stands and if we should get married. It would be the second Rabbi I consulted regarding our relationship. The first was Josh's family's community Rabbi, this hyper-Orthodox guy who told me to abandon my family for Josh's, since they did not approve of our being so serious and so young.