by Pope, M. T.
My mother still had pictures of me as a child up around the living room. Looking at them made my head hurt. There is nothing like the truth staring you in the face at every turn. I wanted to throw all of the pictures of my youth in the trash, because they were painful reminders. I got off the chair and walked over to the mantle over the fireplace and picked up the picture of me, my mom, and my sister, Sherry. I was about eight in that picture. It was right around the time John came to stay with us for a little bit. It wasn’t long after his arrival that my life as a child took a drastic turn.
“No!” I yelled out and threw the picture across the room. I picked up the next picture and did the same. Before long I was just throwing stuff everywhere. I didn’t care as I took my grievances out on the inanimate objects in my mother’s living room.
“Why me God!?” I hollered out. “I just wanted to be normal!” Tears rolled down my face. My makeup was now a mess, so I sluggishly walked to the mini-bathroom next to the kitchen. I ran some water and grabbed a bar of Dove soap from the shower caddy and started to scrub my face. Minutes later I grabbed a washcloth and patted my face dry.
I was now looking at the real me, no makeup. After all these years I saw the old me for the first time in a long time. I have been putting on makeup for so long now that I forgot how I looked without it.
“There you are.” I looked at myself in the mirror. “You’ve been hiding all this time.” An image of me as a child popped up in the mirror. I quickly turned away again. I thought I was losing my mind. I gripped the sides of the sink and shook my head from side to side wildly as I held it down toward the bowl. I didn’t want to look up again. I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to remember. But that was all I could do lately… in the classroom, my office, on the drive to and from work, and even in the bed with my husband.
“You’re gone! You’re gone! ... you’re gone! ... get ... out ... of... my ... headddd!” I grabbed and pulled at my hair as I fell back against the wall and slid down like gravity was pulling me down. I then began to bang my head against the wall as if I was trying to beat the memories out.
The last bang on the wall sent one of my mother’s thick ceramic masks that were hanging on the wall careening down, knocking me out cold.
I awoke about an hour later to a splitting headache. I weakly pulled myself up off of the floor by grabbing onto the sink and pulling up. I looked in the mirror to see if I had any damage to my head. Thankfully there was no blood shed. But I did feel a lump though.
“I can’t believe I just acted like that.” I spoke softly to myself. “Girl, get yourself together.” I opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Aleve, so I could get rid of the splitting headache I now had. I walked into the kitchen and pulled out the pitcher of water. I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, sat down, threw two pills in my mouth and threw back the water like it was an alcoholic beverage. I rubbed my temple to try getting some relief right now, but it was to no avail. I heard my phone ringing in the living room, so I walked as fast as I could to get to it.
“Hello,” I answered. It was my husband.
“Hey, baby.” He sounded a little down. “Where are you?”
“I’m at my mom’s house,” I said solemnly as I could. I was going for as much sympathy as I could get.
“I ... I thought I was supposed to go with you?” he huffed into the phone. He sounded disappointed. “Why didn’t you wake me this morning so I could come?”
“I’m sorry, baby,” I spoke as sweetly as I could. “I just wanted to do this alone.” A couple of days before he asked if he could help me with the arrangements and be the support I needed in my time of grief. I told him yes, but the night before I sexed him so good that I knew that he would sleep well through the night and the morning. I snuck out of bed and quietly got myself together and snuck out of the house without his knowledge. I was wrong for it, but I just wasn’t ready for him to meet any of my family. What little I had anyway.
“But you’re my wife,” It sounded as if his feelings were hurt. “You shouldn’t be doing this stuff alone.”
“I know ... it’s just that ...”
“I’m your husband,” he sharply cut me off. “When are you going to start treating me like the man of the house?”
“Baby, you are the man of the house,” I said, a little shocked that he had given me such attitude. “And I wasn’t alone, my aunt was here for a little while and she helped me a great deal. I will be home shortly, so don’t worry. I will more than make it up too you, daddy,” I whispered the last part and added some seduction when I said daddy.
“Well,” he breathed out an exhausted breath. “I’m going to the funeral, if you like it or not. I want to at least see what your mother looked like in person, instead of the pictures you show me, even if I have to sleep in your car. ”
“Okay, baby ... whatever you want. I‘ll see you later.” I pressed the end button on the phone and sat it back down on the table in front of me. I looked at all the damage I had done to the living room earlier and shook my head.
“It still ain’t as messy as my life is right now.” I shook my head, got up and started to clean up the mess I made. I made mental plans to do the same for my life. No matter the cost. I left my mother’s house and made it back to my house in about an hour. I was exhausted, but I still did what I said I was going to do for my husband. I made it up to him and the smile that was now across his face, as he lay in the bed naked, let me know I had done a good job indeed.
Chapter 27
Shawn
Apologies
May 14th 3:01 P.M.
I sat on my living room sofa and just stared at James’s obituary. To this day Mona still didn’t know that I had gone to his funeral. She still thought that I was glad that he died. Well, I wasn’t glad he died. When I actually looked back over the whole situation; he actually saved my life. If he had not dragged me out of the closet like he did I probably would have ended up getting worse and sloppier with my down-low lifestyle. It may not have been the conventional way that for it to have been done, but it worked. I was now saved and free.
James and I had a lot in common and I really didn’t see it until now. He and I both had been the only child who both struggled with our sexuality. It may not have seemed like James was struggling with it, but I knew he did. Most men and women who struggle with homosexuality just want to be normal.
“I’m sorry, James.” I started to cry like a baby. “Man, I owe you so much. I didn’t see it then, but you were crying out for help and I was too wrapped up in my mess to see it. Hurt people, hurt people. You were hurting man. You must have been hurting bad.”
I started to wonder how his mom must have felt to bury her only child. I started to imagine my mom standing over my casket and my wife and kids doing the same and the grief that his mother must have felt on that day overtook me as I sat on the my sofa all alone. I cried so hard it soaked my shirt.
“What can I do to make this right? I got to make this right. For James and my kids.... his kids.”
I got up off of the sofa and went into my office to make a few calls and track down some info that I had sitting in front of me all of this time.
“I’m going to get this mess done and over with. Now!”
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 t
hink 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 thats 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 w
ent 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.
