Love Me or Miss Me

by Dream Jordan

  “No, that’s okay,” I said, staring him dead in the face.

  “Look, I’m really sorry for what happened,” said Percy, putting the roses down. He stared at me for a long time. But the intensity in Percy’s light brown eyes was no longer thrilling … quite chilling if you ask me.

  “Percy, I accept your apology, okay?” I said, looking away from him. “But I can’t get back with you. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

  “I don’t understand,” he began. “Why can’t we try again? Every relationship has its problems.”

  “Not problems like this. You put your hands on me. And I’m sorry … but I’m not putting up with that.”

  “But why can’t you forgive me?” asked Percy, sounding about ready to cry.

  “I just told you.… You put your hands on me.” I wore a determined look on my face.

  “But I didn’t mean to,” whined Percy. “And I promise it won’t ever happen again.… Please, baby, don’t hold this against me. I need you in my life.”

  I already knew where this was headed; I was wasting my time and words on Percy. “Listen, I have to go.” I reached for the door.

  Without warning, Percy slapped my hand away from the handle.

  “So you’re really trying to leave me, huh?” he demanded, bass suddenly in his voice.

  I was taken aback by Percy’s sudden mood flip, but then again, why was I surprised? This was exactly why I needed to leave him. Dr. Jekyll could no longer hide.

  “Look … I just need to be by myself right now,” I said in a softer voice, trying to pacify this beast.

  Percy quickly calmed down. His voice spun right back to sorry-mode, like magic. “Baby, I can’t afford to lose you. Are you really going to leave me over a silly mistake I made? I didn’t mean to slap you, okay? It was just a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” I repeated in disbelief, my anger rising again. “Stepping on my foot would be a mistake. Slapping me was deliberate as hell!”

  “And you’re going to hold that over my head, huh? Didn’t I just say I was sorry?”

  “Yes, and I accepted your apology. But I just can’t be with you anymore. It’s over.”

  Suddenly Percy’s face darkened.

  “So you want to be with that punk, don’t you?” he shouted. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Don’t lie to me, that’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I made a move for the door. He slapped my hand away.

  “So you’re saying you don’t want to be with me anymore?”

  I had to get out of his car. Fast. I tried to open the door again, growing very, very afraid. A single blow has been known to kill, and Percy looked like he was ready to kill me. But every time I tried the door, Percy slapped my hand away.

  “Please let me go,” I said, my voice quivering.

  Percy started pounding the steering wheel with clenched fists as he shouted, “You promised to never leave me. Now look at you. Running to the next man.”

  Since his hands were currently occupied beating up his steering wheel, I took this opportunity to make my escape. I shoved open the door, jumped out the car, and was about to run across the street. But Percy caught me by the arm in the middle of the road.

  Fear and adrenaline pumped through me. I was about to make a run for it again, but Percy held my arm with a vise-like grip and snatched me up into a powerful bear hug.

  “Get back in the car!”

  “Get off me,” I yelled. “It’s over. Why can’t you accept that?”

  Percy fixed me with a look I’ll never forget. “Get back in the car,” he said between gritted teeth.

  “No!”

  We struggled for a few painful seconds, him wrenching my arm this way and that, hurting me, scaring me.

  “Get off of me!” I shouted.

  “Get in the car.”

  “No!”

  “Okay,” Percy began calmly, “if that’s how you want it … if I can’t have you, nobody can.”

  Before I could figure out what Percy meant by these words, he dragged me to the sidewalk, shoved me up against a gate, drew back his fist, and punched me dead in my stomach. I swallowed a mouthful of air, and doubled over in pain. Nobody had ever hit me so hard in my life. A scream caught in my throat. Before I could recover from the blow, Percy hit me again, and again, and again.… I tried to shield myself. But he grabbed my arms and pushed them away from my face, then began to pummel me like a punching bag.

  I suddenly found my voice. I started screaming at the top of my lungs. “Stop!” I cried, “Please stop!” I hoped the neighbors would hear me. Somebody. Anybody. But Gravesend was a ghost town. Not a soul around. I soon realized I had to help myself.

  My whimpering turned into a battle cry.

  A black blur of rage came over me. I summoned all the strength I had and tried to fight him back. With every ounce of me, I tried to fight through the pain, block his blows. But I was no match for Percy. I threw punches and missed, so weak from the beating I was taking. Percy knocked me in my eyes, my mouth. It felt like he cracked one of my front teeth. He grabbed me by my shoulders and tripped me to the ground. Then all I saw was the white of his sneaker kicking the mess out of me. I covered my face, crying hysterically. “Please stop! Please—” My throat was hoarse from screaming.

  The next thing I knew, I heard Jesselle’s voice hollering, “Get off her!” and then I heard Makeba yelling, “Call the cops! Call the cops!” As their voices came closer, Percy pounded on me even harder. He banged my head against the sidewalk.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter 33

  I woke up in a hospital bed, shivering under a flimsy light-blue gown. I looked around the stark white room, confused and disoriented. Then it all came back to me. The beating, the shouts, the madness. How long have I been here? I wondered. My whole body throbbed in pain. An IV was hooked up to my arm. Gauze and tape covered my mouth. I couldn’t talk; I could barely move. I lay stock-still like a frozen slab of meat.

  The nearby window let in morning sunshine. But all I wanted to do was sleep. When I finally gathered the strength to hobble to the bathroom, I looked into the mirror and stared in disbelief at my black eye, my swollen face. I looked a hot mess, like a train wreck. Then again, a train wreck would’ve made much more sense. I couldn’t believe that the man I once loved had done all this damage to me. This was my first time in the hospital since birth; and someone who claimed to love me had put me here. As bad as I looked, there was no way I wanted anybody I knew to see me like this.

  So imagine my dismay when in walks Mrs. Cooper, the very next day; she had all six girls in tow, carrying a gang of “Get Well” helium balloons. I was half embarrassed, half touched because these girls had actually come to see me. Mrs. Cooper was the first to speak. “How are you feeling, honey? Are you okay?”

  I nodded my head lightly because it hurt like hell. I reached over and grabbed the pen and pad a nurse had supplied me with earlier. “I’m okay,” I wrote. There was no need to stir up pity going into detail about the excruciating pain I was in.

  “We can’t stay long, honey,” said Mrs. Cooper. “All of us aren’t supposed to be up here at one time.”

  Jeselle stepped forward. “Please, Mrs. Cooper, they mad lax up in this hospital. They ain’t even make us sign in.” Jeselle plopped down on my bed. “Shoot, I’m staying with my girl for as long as I want.”

  If I could have moved my mouth, I would’ve smiled at Jeselle. If I could have moved my body without so much pain, I would’ve hugged her, too. I wrote, “Thanks for coming,” and held it up for all to see. Everybody was quiet. Just staring at me with pity in their eyes.

  Jesselle broke the ice by saying, “Well, at least the bastard is in jail where he belongs. I hope he catch hella beat downs while he’s there.”

  Percy, in jail?

  The words “jail” and “hospital” just didn’t go with the word “love.” It was so hard to believe that our relationship
had started out so beautifully only to end up like this.

  But then again, I was still alive, so I made it out easy compared to some. The day before the attack, I had decided to do some research on abusive relationships. I read crazy stories. Scary stories. I learned some girls have to leave their relationships in a body bag. I left that library stunned out of my mind.

  I almost lost my life for love.

  I was so hurt and confused by this whole sad turn of events. But the Common Grounds crew really cheered me up. I looked at my balloons, and felt so cared about, so special. As much as we misunderstood and couldn’t stand each other, the group home girls were my family. When I got back, I vowed to get along with each and every one of them even better, even if I had to try that much harder.

  “All right ladies, Kate needs her rest,” said Mrs. Cooper, though she looked like she needed it more. Her eyes were red, but I couldn’t tell if she was tired or about to cry for me.

  “Hold it down, Kate!” shouted out Jeselle.

  The rest of the girls smiled and waved good-bye.

  After everybody left, my thoughts turned to Felicia. I wasn’t planning to tell her what happened until much later. If I told her now, she’d be hassling me about getting restraining orders.

  I wasn’t ready for aftermath arrangements. For now, Percy was in jail and that was more than enough to comfort me … for now.

  * * *

  Later in the day, I lay in bed with my eyes closed. Then I heard voices. “I think she’s sleeping,” someone whispered. I opened my eyes and that someone turned out to be Felicia, standing over me with Marlon and Charles by her side. Their presence was completely horrifying.

  See, my group homegirls I had quickly gotten over; we’d all seen our share of traumatic times in the system. Felicia? Well, I could even handle her company; after all, she’s my best friend, the one person in the world who knows almost everything about me. But Charles and Marlon? Oh man, I was mortified. Members of the opposite sex, witnessing what one of their own had done to me. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach, as they inched up closer to my bed. I wanted to pull the covers over my head and play dead.

  “Hey, Kate,” the boys said in unison.

  The genuine look of concern fixed on both of their faces instantly stopped me from tripping. I quickly came to my senses, realizing that Charles and Marlon had nothing to do with Percy’s horrible actions. They were visiting me because they cared. They were good guys. Percy could never compare.

  “Hey, girl,” said Felicia, in the saddest voice I ever heard.

  Felicia was holding a giant card, Marlon a bouquet of sunflowers, and Charles an adorable pink and white “Get Well” teddy bear.

  I slowly sat up. A streak of incredible pain shot through my back like a bullet. I struggled to reach for my pad. Charles could tell I was struggling, so he handed it to me.

  “Thank you for coming,” I wrote.

  All three of my friends looked at me with so much sympathy in their eyes. I tried to ignore their compassionate stares. Awkward silence filled the room. Felicia was the first to speak up. “Well, Kate, you can’t deny our connection now. Something told me to call the group home to check up on you … and Jeselle told me everything.” Charles sat down at the foot of my bed, removed his iPod earbuds, and said, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” He shook his head. “Percy is such a sorry excuse for a man.”

  “For real,” added Marlon. “A sorry excuse.”

  “You deserve so much better, Kate,” said Felicia.

  Charles continued his train of thought. “The day I saw you with him, I felt something was wrong, but you played it off so well, I tried to be chill. I wish I would’ve stepped to him then. Trust me, though, I got mad peoples on the inside, from Rikers to San Quentin. Fly one kite and Percy is a dead man. Believe that.”

  I wrote, “Please, don’t. He’s not worth it.”

  “Man, listen, I’m so sorry this happened to you,” said Charles, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

  The mood in the room was getting too melodramatic. So I drew a smiley face and pointed to it. Charles forced a chuckle and touched my leg over the sheet. “You better keep your head up, you hear me?”

  “Her birthday is coming up, too … sweet sixteen,” said Felicia, trying to force a cheerful topic in the mix.

  “Yeah, I remember,” said Charles. “My girl is getting old.”

  “We all need to do something together,” said Marlon.

  “No doubt, I’m down,” Charles replied.

  Wow, I thought, Charles was so cool. Felicia and Marlon are far from his type of hangout partners, but he was still willing to hang with them—unlike Percy, the loner, who had no friends of his own and had tried to isolate me from everybody. What was I thinking getting involved with a guy like Percy? Well, I wasn’t thinking, that was the problem. Never repeating this mess again, that was my solution.

  I had too much to live for to be getting sucked into another abusive relationship. Surviving Percy was like falling off a cliff and living to tell about it. Wished I didn’t have to learn the hard way, all bandaged up and in so much aching pain; but at least I had learned. Relationships are hard, but they’re not supposed to hurt. I can’t even picture another guy trying to control me, push me around, talk down to me. Please, I’ll kick his behind to the curb and ask questions later. Felicia and Tisha were right: I deserved so much better than Percy.

  And at least I now understood what a good relationship looks like: Felicia and Marlon, Ted and Lynn. No disrespect and drama in their world, just petty little arguments every now and then. So if I couldn’t have the real thing, I’d rather be alone.

  “I can’t wait for your stitches to come out,” said Charles. “I want to see that pretty smile of yours.”

  Charles got up and walked toward the head of my bed. He clicked on his iPod, gently placed one earbud in my ear, and the other one in his. “So Beautiful” by Musiq Soulchild was playing. Charles was looking at me with so much concern in his sparkling dark brown eyes. In an instant, a magical atmosphere flowed throughout my hospital room. Felicia and Marlon seemed to disappear.

  “Want you to know … so beautiful,” Charles sang.

  “My favorite song,” I wrote.

  “See, you and Felicia aren’t the only ones with a connection.” Charles winked at me.

  Charles seemed so different these days, like a changed man. So much more chill and mature. Not so thirsty for booty like before. Shucks, the old Charles would’ve been bumping “Birthday Sex” in my ear.

  A short, burly nurse came into the room, and told my friends visiting hours were over. I needed my bandages changed.

  “Get well soon, so we can hang out,” said Charles. He kissed my forehead.

  Felicia kissed me on the cheek. “Stay strong, we’ve got things to do!”

  “I say we go bowling,” said Marlon.

  “I never bowled in my life,” piped in Charles, “but I’m down!”

  “Thanks for stopping by,” I wrote. “I can’t wait to hang with y’all.”

  * * *

  But when I got out of the hospital, I didn’t hang with anybody right away. I needed some time to myself, time to figure out why I kept getting involved with the wrong people. I had to ask myself this question, and actually answer it this time, before I repeated the same mistake.

  Obviously my self-esteem wasn’t where it should have been; so I needed to raise it higher, out of reach from haters and abusers. I needed to be around people who made me feel good about myself, namely people like Felicia, my eternal homegirl, who always believed in me and never put me down.

  But even Felicia had a life outside of me, traveling with her parents, hanging with the Stuck-up-Duo, and of course, there was Marlon.

  I had to get my own life, too.

  So when school started, the first thing I did was sign up to be a math tutor; I rocked math equations like it was nothing, so might as well get in where I fit in. Then I made an appo
intment with Children’s Services to see about becoming a mentor for a younger girl in foster care. Tisha used to continuously remind me, “There’s always someone out there who has it worse than you.” So why shouldn’t I help another young girl make it through?

  I had already helped my girls at Common Grounds. After seeing me laid up in the hospital, every single one of them vowed to keep their eyes wide open when it comes to boys and abuse. We even made a pact to reach out to each other if any one of us got trapped in an abusive relationship. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I had told them.

  Reaching out is the right thing to do. But staying quiet and hiding behind dark glasses is dead wrong, and not the way to cope with the pain. In fact, days after I had gotten out of the hospital, I still looked like a one-eyed raccoon, with a black half-moon underneath my right eye taking forever to heal. I didn’t try to hide it. No sunglasses on my face.

  One day, I overheard Ciara explaining my black eye to a homegirl that she had snuck into the home. The girl had stared at me longer than necessary when we were introduced. Guessed she was curious; I couldn’t blame her.

  I was about to come out onto the back porch where they sat, when I heard the girl say, “Oh hell no! That could never be me. Let some guy try to put his hands on me. She’s stupid.”

  Stupid? Excuse me?

  Part of me was pissed that Ciara was actually spreading my personal business; the other part was determined to set the record straight. And this was the part that had me boldly stepping outside the door with a mouthful to say. “Oh, yes, it could be you,” I blurted, while pointing to my eye with no shame. “Nobody is immune from abuse. Tough girls, smart girls, pretty girls, rich girls, white girls, black girls … even grown women get abused. Depending on where your self-esteem is on any given day, anybody can fall prey. So please don’t get it twisted, okay?”

  The girl’s eyes were big with shock, maybe from my words, or maybe because I had busted through the door out of nowhere. Whatever the case, I really hoped she understood. You never know how you’ll deal with a situation until you’re actually in the situation. Never thought this could happen to me. Now I knew.