Chapter 28
David
Threats and Promises
May 15th 12:03
A.M.
It was late at night and I was in bed when my phone started to ring. I quickly grabbed it and looked at it to see who was calling me. It was John. I eased out of bed and crept downstairs to avoid waking my wife.
“Hello,” I answered in a hushed tone as I made my way into my house office.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he barked. “I’ve been calling you and you been ignoring my calls.”
“I’ve been busy,” I tried to explain, calmly. “This semester has been quite a busy one and—”
“Fuck that shit,” he yelled back. “Your ass ain’t never been that busy before. What you think I’m crazy like all the rest of these muthafuckas?”
“Nah ... nah ... that’s not even it.” I was lying, it was the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I didn’t need to tell him that to escalate the situation even further. “My wife lost her mother and I’ve been helping her deal with that.”
“Yeah ... uhhhh huh! I bet.” He calmed down a little. “So when you coming back over?”
“Coming over?” I acted like I was confused.
“Yeah, muthafucka ... Coming over to fuck me like you do on the regular. You ain‘t forget how to do that shit did you. I thought I trained you well.” He laughed out loud.
“I don’t think it’s going to be a good idea for me to see you for a while. My wife will be on leave for a minute and she will notice.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“Nothing, I’m just saying that I can’t right now.”
“Well how long then?”
Forever, bitch
! is what I wanted to yell out, but didn’t know his state of mind right now. Then again, I did know. He was nuts. And I don’t know why it took me this long to see it.
“I don’t know when.” I said it as sweet as I could. I had to be nice as possible.
“David ... what you take me for? A fool?” he asked.
“I know when someone is trying to avoid me. I’m old but I damn sure ain’t senile. I got my shit together.”
“You sure?” I blurted out by accident.
“Oh, so you do think that I am crazy like all these other muthafuckas.”
Silence.
“No response huh? I knew it. I treated you good all these years and this is how you do me. You just like the rest. But I can show you more than I can tell you. You gonna regret this, muthafucka! I mean that!” Click!
He hung up in my ear. I was floored and nervous at the same time. I don’t know what John is capable of doing. Man, I should have cut him off a long time ago. I went to bed scared to wake up tomorrow. I didn’t know where this dude was going to pop up. He was liable to do anything. Even at his age.
Shit!
I huffed lightly as I cuddled close to my wife.
Chapter 29
Grace
The Big Bang Theory
May 17th 11:12
A.M.
I was dressed in all black with a veiled black hat to match. I stood in front of my full-length mirror in my walk-in closet. A tear slid out of my eye and down my check.
“Hey, babe,” he walked up behind me and slid his hand around my waist and pulled me in an embrace. “It’s going to be okay. We got each other. ’Til death do us part ... remember?”
I looked at us in the mirror and burst into a loud sob. I was mourning my mom, but myself as well.
Today might be the day
. I couldn’t help but think that the picture I just saw in the mirror could all end today. “I ... I know, baby.” I turned around, with his arms still around me, kissed him on the cheek. He lifted my veil, pulled me in and kissed me long and hard. For a few seconds, my mind was taken off of my drama and on my husband. I didn’t deserve him and I knew it.
He probably would be better off without me
, I thought.
“Mmm baby, we got to go. The family car is waiting on us to go.” I pulled away and looked into the mirror to make sure my makeup was still intact. My mind flashed to Ashley for a second. She had been missing for a minute. I hadn’t even noticed that she hadn’t called me or anything. I breathed in a breath of fresh air. At least I didn’t have to worry about her for a while.
I pulled my veil back down and grabbed my clutch purse off of the bed and made my way down to the car that was waiting on us. My husband was already outside waiting by the car as I exited the house. I sucked in another breath of fresh air as I walked down the walkway toward the car. My husband opened the door and helped me in and then got in himself. We pulled of toward my aunt’s house and then toward the funeral parlor.
My aunt kept on giving my husband funny looks like she wanted to ask him something. I gave her a look back, daring her. I needed her to mind her business. My mother had given me power of attorney over her final affairs but I gave most of the duties to my aunt since she was around my mother more and knew what she liked better than me.
After about twenty minutes we finally pulled up to the funeral parlor and made our way in. Fresh flowers, cold air and death filled the air. There were already people there, but I didn’t know most of them. I had been gone for so long and I was older.
My aunt was in front of me and she stood at the casket to view my mother first. She sobbed a little and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek and then she walked away and sat down on the front row. It was my turn. My legs began to wobble and moans escaped my mouth. My husband had his hand around my waist. “M—M—Mamaaa.” I took a step closer, but it still seemed like it was so far away. My body did another dip, but my husband held me tight and wouldn’t let me fall.
“Come on, baby ... You can do it,” he coached me. I shook my head from side to side. All of the good memories of my mama flooded my mind and now I was looking at her cold hard body.
I knew there was a line forming behind me, but I didn’t care, because this was my mama. I heard a couple
who’s that
s but I paid it no mind. I finally made my way to the casket. And that’s when the waterworks really began. She looked so good. I know you hear people say it, but she really did: just like she did when she was alive. My aunt had dressed her in a pretty pink dress. Her hair was in pin curls. After a few more minutes of sobbing and moaning I made my way to my seat next to my aunt. My husband stood there for a few more minutes and then he came back to sit with me.
But who I saw in line a few minutes after the line died down made me go from sad to rage in all but a few seconds. My hands started to shake. My aunt grabbed my hand, probably because she though I was emotional about my mother being dead in front of me, but I was past that as of now.
John Parks, you sick bastard. What are you doing here?
I thought as he glanced over toward the family row I was sitting on and then walked toward us. I looked at my aunt, and then at my husband, who was locked in a trance as well. I didn’t know what to do as he walked over and shook my husband’s hand with a wicked grin on his face. He then leaned in to embrace me. This muthafucka was so old he didn’t even recognize me or maybe it was the veil that I had on, but I knew who he was all too well. I want to fuck his ass up on the spot. His musty ass looked the same. Like a child molester. I watched my aunt get up and hug him as well. She didn’t seem shocked at all.
Maybe her ass is in shock that he showed up to the funeral too.
Rage in me built up as the service went on. They read the obituary, but both my husband and I were not paying attention. Every time I glanced at him he was looking at John. That shit puzzled me, but I brushed it off as nothing but my mind playing tricks on me because I was so furious right now. Then they called for people to say a few words and guess who popped up. John’s simple ass. I was beyond rage now. My husband had my hand and I squeezed it so hard that he had to let go and wring it out.
John went on and on about the good person my mother was and how she was always willing to give him anything he asked. I was seeing red and as he stepped off the podium I charged him like a linebacker.
“You sick
bastard
! How could you show up here?” I hit him with all that I could as he fell into my mother’s casket, almost knocking it over. I was feeling real good right about now as I watched him stagger a little dazed, but I quickly went in again knocking him to the ground. There were people trying to pull me off of him, but it was to no avail. “You ... ” Punch! “Sick” Punch! “mutha” Punch! “fucka” Punch! I was whooping his ass real good, almost oblivious to the fact that it was my mother’s funeral. I was sitting on him like a kid in a playground fight.
“You”—punch—“fucked”—punch—“up”—punch—“my”—punch—“life.” After a few more minutes, I was sheer exhausted when I got up off of him. I looked around a little embarrassed at my actions, to see my husband and aunt still sitting in their seats like it was a stage play. I brushed off my dress and went back to my seat like the lady I was. A couple of men I didn’t know helped John’s ass out of the room, while he yelled, “Who in the hell was that crazy bitch!”
That pretty much ended the service for me. My aunt and husband had to help me to the family car after pallbearers wheeled my momma out. I silently asked God and my momma for forgiveness for showing out at her home-going today.
We buried my mother right next to my sister. I kissed her grave as we walked back to the car, after they lowered momma into the ground. Before we got into the car, my aunt walked up to me and squeezed me real hard. “Baby, I’m having a family reunion-birthday celebration in a week or two. I’m telling you, not asking you to come, so you can be arounds ya family. We shouldn’t have to have someone to leave us to get together. Ya hear?”
I saw the pain in her eyes as she stared at me for a few seconds. “Oh, and don’t be afraid to be yourself either when ya come.”
“Yes, ma’am.” My husband was standing right there so ducking this event was almost impossible.
We all got in the car and in silence we rode back to my aunt’s house for the repast. My husband and I declined to go in. I was exhausted and I guess my husband was too. The look on his face was a blank one, one of confusion.
“You okay, baby?” he asked as he pulled me toward him and embraced me. “What was all that about at the funeral home?”
“Huh?” I acted confused.
“Joh—I mean the guy at the funeral. You whipped his ass. Why?”
“Honey, I really don’t want to discuss it right now. I am so tired. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep.” My head fell on his shoulder. I was more than done: mentally and physically. My moments of molestation swirled in my head like a merry-go-round. One incident after the other
. I can’t do this much longer
. It seemed like the ride home was shorter then it was when we left. I slowly crept up the stairs and into my bedroom. I stripped off my clothes and fell onto my bed in sheer exhaustion. The truth was barreling down on me like a full-fledged army tank.
I blinked back tears as I went over a pivotal point in my life. I was like seven or eight when “it” happened.
I was in my room playing like I usually do. My momma was passed out on the couch like she usually was after she had her fill of liquor. So was my uncle John.
I had no friends to play with and my sister was over a friend’s house spending the night. I was all alone in my room. So I thought.
“You look so good,” I told myself as I looked in the floor-length mirror on my wall next to my dresser. I had on an old dress of my sister’s. It was pink with small silky-type flowers on it and it had ruffles on the sleeves and the bottom. I had some of her clips and her hair extensions in my hair. I was the big girl my sister was, in the mirror, that day. I twirled and twirled. I was singing Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” into a hairbrush like I was a professional.
I was interrupted by a clapping of hands. I had an audience I didn’t know about. I was completely caught off guard. I froze like an Eskimo.
“You really look good.” He smiled a mischievous grin.
“Th—thanks.” My voice quivered and shook. He was looking at me like I looked at a happy meal that had just been placed in front of me. I didn’t know that my life would be changed forever after this day. He walked in and sat on my bed.
“Can you sing it for me again?” he asked so nicely. I didn’t know what was going on. I felt it was wrong, but he was my uncle so I figured it was okay. I trusted him. He was always so nice to me. “You look
so
good doing it.”
I obliged and began my childish rendition of the adult song. I did all the dance moves in the video as best I could. He smiled the whole time. When I finished, I sat down beside him on the bed. I felt ashamed, like what I was doing was wrong: Dancing in front of a grown man.
“That dress really fits you.”
“It’s my sister’s old dress.” I was a little big for my age and it fit snugly. “I was going to put it back when I finished.” I lied. I had taken the dress from an old box in the basement and tucked it in the back of my closet for safekeeping.
“Don’t worry, it will be our little secret,” he reassured me.
“Okay,” I said as meekly as I could. On the inside I was ecstatic that I could keep what I found. In exchange my uncle would ask me to let him “do things.” I felt it was wrong, but I did it to continue to get to do stuff I like doing. That shit fucked me up for life. Because pretty soon he would make sure my mother stayed liquored up and then he and I would be free to “play around.” Me wanting to be a big girl turned into me being a full- fledged woman. I was doing all the things that a child should never do. He started making demands that I now know was molestation. I felt it was my fault that it escalated to the point of no return, so I never said a thing.
That is until later on in high school when things escalated and me and my mom would get into it about my life. She thought I was headed down the wrong road and I felt like it was what I wanted to do. In the end, I just did me and she accepted it. The fact that I told her that her drinking and bingeing and not paying attention to what company she had in her house, namely, Uncle John, didn’t hurt either. She was so overdone with guilt that she kept quiet most of the time. It wasn’t completely her fault, but it wasn’t completely mines either. Me prancing around the house like I was at a young age in front of John didn’t help either. I was a little extra with it. I see it so clearly now. I was a willing participant. I blamed others for something that I already wanted. I was flawed mentally way before John entered the picture.
“Dammit!” I punched my pillow. “It’s too late to say I’m sorry. It‘s too late for me to take back the blame.”