With each passing day, I was reminded that I was breaking my promise to be the kind of mother my baby needed and deserved. Here I thought that I could take care of Susie on my own, but I couldn’t even get her a crib to sleep in. The weight of guilt about my baby felt like two hands clutching my shoulders and pressing me down; I could not get out from under that feeling.
As if the guilt alone wasn’t enough, my fear was even greater. I was so afraid that I was no longer that girl Jaye found captivating and special. Every time he left for work, he seemed so detached—and I felt so abandoned. In the darkness of the night, staring at Jaye sleeping on the second couch always made me more determined to get things back to when they were good. I refused to believe that my relationship with him wasn’t going to work. Yet deep in my heart I knew there wasn’t much glue to hold us together, not even our daughter.
Things were very tense between us most times, despite the fact that every time we had a chance to be alone, we were intimate. What was so demoralizing was that despite how physical our relationship was, it wasn’t making him closer to me at all. Whenever we were intimate, I felt cheap and used because I wasn’t getting what I was looking for in return. I really believed that giving myself to him would seal our connection, but it didn’t. Every time I was hopeful, but I was left with more and more hopelessness.
One morning I woke up with the realization that the light had completely gone out of my life. The world I loved as a child was not my world anymore. Hugs and kisses, love and admiration, people who adored me—it all seemed so far away. Outside the window of that Brooklyn brownstone, the Sunday morning sun shone brightly. But Sundays didn’t have much significance any longer. Today was like any other day, yet for some reason I couldn’t help but think about the Brooklyn Tabernacle and the fact that it was just blocks away. I wanted so badly to be there, yet I was trapped by my own obsession. I missed my parents so much, but being close to them just didn’t seem to be an option. I had no alternative at this point other than to stay, even if it meant following a man around, content with the crumbs of his affection.
Later that morning, Jaye and I got into an argument, as we often did. As it escalated, I began to hit a desperate low and found myself extremely vulnerable, probably more vulnerable and hurt than I had ever felt with him. Mid-argument, Jaye left the apartment, seemingly drained by my inexhaustible need for him to prove that he really loved me and that I was still the only one in his life. The quiet click of the closing door was like a loud bang that reverberated in my ears, making me double over as if I had been punched in the gut.
“No! Wait!” I started toward the door to stop him, but the pain of all that had been said and left unsaid kept me fixed in one spot, alone and rejected. I stumbled over to where I had tried to create a safe little haven for my baby, surrounded by pillows in one corner of the couch. Toppling over, with whimpers that turned into wailing, I pressed my face into the vinyl cushion and gripped it with my nails, digging in, trying to tear it. At that moment, I had nothing left.
Susie started crying, but I couldn’t comfort her because I needed to be comforted. I had nowhere to run and no one to turn to. I don’t know how long my face was pressed into the cushion while I bawled like a baby. When my tears died down, I slowly pulled my face away from the vinyl. I was in such despair that for the first time I really wanted to find someone I could go to for solace.
My swollen eyes tried to focus. I need to call Al. It made perfect sense. Though we hadn’t talked in a while, he was the only person I called sporadically and confided in since disappearing from the church. He knows Jaye and he knows me. He’d understand.
I picked up the phone and began dialing, calling the friend that both Jaye and I had deserted. Ring, ring . . . As the phone rang, I wondered how he would receive my call. I had so abruptly ended our friendship in pursuit of his friend. On the fourth ring, his mom answered in a heavy Spanish accent.
“Hello, Maria? This is Chrissy. Is Al home?” I waited, hoping so badly that he was there.
“Oh, sí, Crissee, espera, por favor. Albert!” Her voice rose over the lively Latin music playing in the background.
“Sí, Mamí. Un momentito.”
I had a sudden attack of nerves as I waited for him to pick up the phone.
“Hello?” he said in the recognizable deep tone.
“Al, hi. It’s me, Chrissy.”
“Chrissy! How are you?” Hearing a familiar voice was so soothing, like a touch of home for just an instant.
Trying to hold back more tears, I answered, “I’m close by and . . . I was wondering if I could come over?”
“Sure.” I could tell he was surprised but he added quickly, “It would be great to see you, Chris.”
“Okay, just give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.” As we hung up, I breathed a sigh of relief because he asked no questions. Running downstairs, I handed Susie to Jaye’s older sister, who lived in the apartment below, telling her I would be back in a little while.
Walking toward Al’s house, I glanced down at myself and took stock of how I looked, trying to imagine what he would see. My flat, mostly concave stomach and belly button were exposed below my short black midriff shirt and above my faded khaki green balloon pants. Al was used to seeing me dressed nicely, and now I looked run down and shabby. When he saw me, I figured that he would notice I was much thinner than even before my pregnancy. But would he suspect that it was because of a poor diet and my living conditions? Slipping through behind someone at the front door of the apartment building who had been buzzed in, I began climbing the five flights of stairs. A surge of excitement came over me as I grew closer to a piece of my old life, but the trek up the steps was exhausting.
He must have been watching for me from the window because I heard him calling down the hall, “Chris?”
I walked toward the sound of his voice and was so pleased to see him.
He leaned over and gave me a quick hug, smiling as though he were sincerely happy to see me too. “Come inside. Are you hungry?”
I noticed his eyes taking in my appearance and then he got a weird look on his face. I was slightly embarrassed at how unkempt I was. But those thoughts vanished as soon as I stepped into the warmth of the apartment, feeling a peace I had not experienced in a long time. I was just around the block from Jaye’s place, in the same unsafe neighborhood, yet this felt like such a refuge. The clean and orderly living room had little porcelain figurines that sparkled, and the aroma of Cuban food filled the house, making it incredibly welcoming. We sat down to talk, and he spoke kindly to me, which served to calm my nerves. I wondered if Al could tell that I was extremely embarrassed about the way Jaye and I had deserted him, but if he did, he didn’t show it.
He seemed to pick up right where we had left off and began to fill me in on church life and some of my old friends. I could tell that Al was being very careful not to pry, giving me a chance to talk since it was unclear why I was even there.
After listening shyly for a few moments, I suddenly broke in. “Has my dad said anything about me to the church? Al, what do they know?”
“Actually, he hasn’t said a word, but . . .” Al paused, dropping his head. Then he looked into my eyes. “Chris, I’ve seen your dad crying. He’s called me into his office, asking if I knew how you were doing or where you were. I’ve seen him so broken right before having to walk into one of the services, and then somehow he would still preach his heart out. It’s painful to watch him go through this, but I can tell God is really close to him.”
Squirming in my seat, I abruptly changed the subject. “So, do you miss baseball?” I remembered how much he loved playing from our conversations when we had first met.
“No, not really.” Looking at me with concern, he asked, “How’s Jaye? I haven’t talked to him in so long.”
“He’s . . . okay, I guess. He’s still working in that print studio. You know what? I need to go—he’s probably wondering where I am.”
Al frowned for
a second but quickly agreed. “Okay, I’ll walk you down.”
By the time we got downstairs, it was like we had that “old friend” connection again. He pushed the heavy black wrought-iron security door and held it open as I stepped out of the building. We stood there chatting for a few minutes when Jaye suddenly appeared. Not knowing how he would respond, I stayed quiet.
“What’s up, Al,” he said, clipping the words.
“Hey, what’s up, man!” Al greeted him cheerfully.
There was an awkward silence, and then Jaye said, “Chris, we need to get back to the baby.”
Under my breath, I said a quick good-bye to Al and followed Jaye down the block. I could feel Al watching us, but I didn’t dare look because Jaye was fuming. He thought I had “put our business out there,” and even though I denied it, he didn’t want to hear it.
The days and then weeks to follow were so stress-filled that my body actually began to break down. Between juggling to give Susie what she needed and trying everything possible to hang on to Jaye, the little physical strength I had was gone. The way I was living was what I considered “lowlife” and yet I was trapped by my own longings.
It was a sticky July afternoon in uptown Manhattan when I slowly climbed up the stairs from underground onto Columbus and 59th Street. The subway let me off only a few blocks from my first temp agency appointment, and I had made it into the city with plenty of time to spare. I was feeling light-headed and weak, as if I were coming down with some kind of flu bug. I dismissed it, figuring it had to be because of the heat. Looking for the closest bench to rest for a moment, I checked my watch.
I was dressed heavily for a hot summer day, but I knew it was my best attempt at getting the corporate appearance my interviewers would be looking for. Still dragging down the street, I found another bench and nearly collapsed on it. Trickles of sweat ran down my back.
As I stared down at the ground, I spotted a kid pouring his drink into the grate on the sidewalk. I knew time was slipping away from me, just like that drink. It became clear that I was going to miss my appointment and that something was wrong when I began to shake from chills rushing through my body.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said to a businessman sitting next to me who was drinking coffee out of a Styrofoam cup. “Do you know where the nearest emergency room is?”
He leaned forward and pointed to the right. “It’s a few blocks that way. Do you need help?”
“No, I’ll be okay.” I got up slowly, gasped, and gripped my side as a needlelike pain shot through me. “I’m . . . I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. Which way did you say?”
I walked at a snail’s pace toward the hospital, feeling as though I was chained to a load that I was hauling down the street—the anxiety of going one more day without any money.
The emergency room at Roosevelt Hospital was chaotic and full of all kinds of characters when I walked up to the desk to check in.
“May I help you?” the nurse said without looking up from her paperwork.
“I’m feeling severe pain in my—”
She abruptly cut me off. “Insurance card, please?”
“Uh . . . I don’t have one,” I stammered.
“Well, sign in here and just wait for your name to be called.”
Several hours later, I lay in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV that was pumping me with antibiotics, diagnosed with a severe kidney infection.
An older doctor came into my room and closed the door behind him. Picking up my chart, he peered over his reading glasses. “Miss Cymbala, I am concerned about your condition. Have you, by chance, been suffering from urinary tract infections? Your condition wouldn’t have become this severe unless you neglected other symptoms.”
I looked up at him sheepishly. “Yes, I have. But I thought I was getting better.”
He sighed and closed the chart. “Well, you seem pretty run down, and you need to understand that a kidney infection can develop into something very serious. We’re going to take you down for some more tests soon. For now, just rest and let’s see how you react to the medication in the next couple of hours.”
When the doctor left the room, I couldn’t help but close my eyes and rest.
I woke up suddenly and realized I had not called Jaye. “Hey, I’m in the hospital. They said I have a kidney infection.” As I went on, it was evident that Jaye was in the middle of something at work.
“Chris, where’s the baby?”
“She’s with your mom.”
He let out a frustrated breath. “You can’t leave her there—I’ve told you that. I can’t get off work right now. Let me try to get this done and leave as quickly as I can.”
I was torn between feeling hurt and anxious. Hurt because he didn’t seem to care that I was sick and anxious because I didn’t want him to be mad at me. “Okay,” I said with a small voice.
After hanging up the receiver, I lay there feeling incredibly weak, wondering why I was so unable to defend myself or even fix things. Just when I thought I had hit rock bottom, I found myself sinking deeper into a pit. I felt abandoned, but not only by Jaye. I had abandoned myself—allowing my obsession to strip me of feeling worth anything more than I was getting.
Barely able to pick up the phone again, I grabbed the receiver and dialed.
“Hello?” Al answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Al? It’s me, Chrissy.”
My voice shook, as I held myself back from bursting into tears. “I was wondering if you could do me a big favor . . .” Embarrassed but frantic, I appealed to him. “Would you go to Jaye’s apartment and get my baby for me and bring her to the city? I’m so, so sorry to bother you, Al.”
I tried to rush on before he could interrupt me. “I know this may sound kind of bizarre, but I really need you to bring her to the hospital. I’m here at Roosevelt Hospital. You know, by Columbus Circle?” Another wave of pain hit me in my back, and I swallowed hard to keep talking. “When you arrive, just ask for my room number, okay? Thank you so much, Al. I really appreciate this. See you soon.” I had to hang up quickly because I felt like I was going to faint.
For the next couple of hours, I did anything I could to pass the time while I waited for Al to come with Susie. I turned on the TV, but instead of distracting me, the sound became irritating, so I turned it off. Seeing my purse slightly opened, I grabbed the mirror and noticed how my sickly, pale complexion was making the dark circles under my eyes even more prominent. I snapped my purse shut, closing my eyes tightly and trying to breathe through the gnawing pain in my side. I felt dizzy from fever and kept trying to clear my vision so I could see the clock on the wall.
I wonder what’s keeping Al? My stomach grumbled, and I remembered that I hadn’t eaten all day and there wasn’t any food close by. Between the hunger pangs and the pain from the infection, I couldn’t get comfortable enough to take even a quick nap.
Finally, Al walked in with my baby bundled in a light pink receiving blanket. Too weak to sit up, I tried to shift on the bed but fell back weakly.
“Thank you so much, Al. You must think I’m crazy.” He laid Susie in my arms, careful not to disturb the tubes connected to the IV.
His face was flushed as he said, “I’ve been so worried. What happened, Chrissy?”
I didn’t want to get into all the details with him. “It’s probably nothing, but they’re still running more tests.”
Changing the subject, I interjected before he could follow up with more questions, “How did you get here?”
His face became more flushed. “I took the subway. It wasn’t so bad. Actually, the hardest part was getting past the nurse’s station with a baby.”
I smiled, thinking of him rushing through New York crowds, carrying a baby.
He paused, and I knew he was going to ask me what I still hadn’t figured out yet. “Chris, what can I do for you? What are you going to do now?”
I held my daughter tighter and lied again to my friend. “Oh, don’t worry. It will be
fine. Jaye will be here soon. I really appreciate this. I don’t want to keep you any longer. Seriously, we’ll be just fine.”
He looked doubtful, then let out a sigh. “Okay, Chrissy. Call me if you need anything.” He said an awkward good-bye and then left.
I looked down at Susie, and my heart skipped a beat when I heard a nurse’s cart wheel by, fearful that the staff would find her in here. I knew what I needed to do. I flipped the sheets back, carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed, and set her in the middle of the bed. I gingerly stepped into and pulled up my dress slacks. I gritted my teeth, removed the tape that held the IV needle in place, then yanked the needle out. Quickly dabbing the few spots of blood on my hand, I slipped into my shirt, buttoned a few buttons, and put on my blazer.
I picked up the baby and rocked her for a minute, trying to make her fall asleep. Cracking the door open, I checked to make sure the way was clear. I snuck to the closest stairwell and labored down each flight of stairs. With the last drop of adrenaline I had, I pushed open an emergency exit and escaped into the night.
THE NEXT FEW MONTHS BEGAN ANOTHER CYCLE of craziness for Susie and me. Out of sheer desperation, I called my parents because I just didn’t know what else to do. They asked me if I was ready to walk away from my toxic relationship. At that point, I was willing to agree to anything.
“Yes, Dad. I want to get things right for me and the baby. I’ll listen to what you and Mom say, I promise.”
Through my parents’ contacts, I got an incredible opportunity in Dallas, Texas, to work for a Christian record company. Mom and Dad felt that my being far away from Jaye would possibly dissolve the relationship and allow me a chance to heal. I did end up moving to Texas and initially was able to rest and recover. However, before long, I started to yearn for Jaye’s company.
As soon as he started coming to see me, things quickly went south. Once again, a dream job was in jeopardy because I missed too much work in order to be with him. My parents got wind of the situation and made a decision once and for all to cut me off from any financial support. They told me that they were not going to stand by for even one more day and watch me—let alone help me—destroy my life.
Girl in the Song Page 15
