He cupped my face and kissed me intimately. He laid me on the bed and kissed my face and neck. Slowly, he removed my blouse and played with my nipples. I sighed with pleasure. The lower on the abdomen he kissed, the sharper my intakes of breath became and the more I tensed my body.
“Relax, mami, you tell me to stop if you want me to.”
He started to kiss my crotch over my jeans, biting hard enough so I could feel him through the denim. I offered little resistance when he unzipped my fly and pulled off my pants. He put my clitoris in his mouth smoothly and allowed my facial expressions and body movements to guide him. When I tensed and parted my lips in ecstasy, he moved his tongue faster and harder. When he felt me cum, he took my entire cunt into his mouth and sucked, flicking his tongue in and out of my hole while I squealed in delight. When he came up for air, my jugos dripped from his chin. He cradled me in his arms.
“I told you I’d never hurt you baby. Neva, mamita. Neva,” he repeated as he fingered me roughly. “Hold up.” He slid off the bed and removed his pants and boxers.
I gasped at the sight of his erect penis. I’d never seen a dick so up close and personal and his looked immense to my inexperienced eyes. He laughed at the frightened expression on my face. “You act like you’ve neva seen a dick before, ma.”
“I haven’t. At least not in person. On cable but not face to face,” I giggled. “And I’ve never had an orgasm either,” I delighted as he slipped into bed next to her.
“You ready?” he asked as he rubbed my G-spot.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I sighed. I looked into his eyes and said what I’d been wanting to say for months. “I love you, Fabian.”
“I love you too, mamita,” he replied as he entered me with a single thrust. I yelped as he plunged into my tight pussy.
Fabian made it a point to come see me in Massachusetts as least once every two weeks. He also made certain my pussy was sore when he left. The rumors of Fabian and Lynette’s affair subsided only for new gossip of his infidelities to arise. One day Lynette called me out of the blue. We hadn’t spoken in a while so I was surprised to hear Lynette’s voice on the line.
“Wow, girl, what’s this miracle?” I inquired.
“Look, ma, I’m sorry I haven’t called but I been busy. I just called to tell you that I think your man is playing you with some fifteen-year-old hoe from Post. I’m just tryin’ to look out, aight.”
“Oh, like you were tryin’ to look out when you were up and down with my man?” I accused. “And now that he kicked you to the curb, you’re lookin’ out for me? That’s absolutely hilarious!”
“What, bitch?!” Lynette yelled.
“No, you just didn’t call me a bitch! You need to slow your role, Lynette, for real. See, that’s why we ain’t tight like we used to be. I just can’t trust you.”
“Can’t trust me?” Lynette mocked. “But you trust your player man. You’re the hilarious one, yo, not me. Now you go tell your man thanks for all the nuts, pendeja!” and she slammed the phone on my ear.
I was enraged. “No this bitch didn’t just say that to me. She got the heart to admit to fuckin’ my man ova the phone but when I confront her about it, she almost cried denyin’ it?”
I called Lynette’s phone repeatedly for over an hour but got no response. When I called Fabian’s phone I didn’t even wait for him to say ‘Hello’ before I went off on him.
“You nasty mothafucka! ¡Ásqueroso! You fucked that bitch Lynette?!” I wailed. “How could you do that to me? After everything I’ve done for you. I gave you my virginity, you son of a bitch!”
“What?! You’re wilin’, ma! I didn’t fuck that cuero malo! I told you that and I’m tired of you accusin’ me. I don’t have time for any of that shit, babe. Between maintainin’ the spot and goin’ to see you, I don’t have time for anything! Calm down!” he tried to soothe me.
“That bitch called me and said she slept with you!” I hiccupped. “How could you, pa? Why? Why? Why?” I pleaded.
“Ma, I didn’t. I swear, I didn’t!” he vowed. “I would neva do that to you. Neva mamita, neva! I wanna marry you, babe. You my queen, I swear. Please stop cryin’!”
Lynette was only the first of a long line of females with whom Fabian played me. By accepting his betrayal and believing his crocodile tears, I’d set a precedent that I’d never be able to erase and would live to regret.
9
I yawned with exhaustion. Reliving my past had worn me out. I got up from my futon and went to take a shower. I let the hot water run over my face. When I lowered my head to wet my hair, I saw that I was still bleeding. Salty tears rolled into my mouth as I remembered the miscarriage I’d had two days earlier. I realized that I’d been able to avoid Fabian thus far but knew that my time was running out. I was going to have to face him eventually but still couldn’t stand the sight of his face. I had a class in an hour and a half but couldn’t fathom having to face reality just yet. I decided to skip it and take a long, hot bath. I ran the bath, threw in some bath salts and soaked my worries away. I tried to clear my mind but failed. Thoughts of Fabian and my disillusionment wreaked havoc on my soul.
All my life I had dreamed of attending Harvard University. When I fell in love with Fabian that all changed. I didn’t believe our relationship would survive the distance so I was overjoyed when I was accepted to Columbia University. Admittedly, I was nonetheless getting a topnotch education that would open doors for me in the future but I always wondered what life would have been like had I stayed in Cambridge and followed my lifelong aspiration. Instead, I had opted to follow my heart and here I was sulking in a tub, recovering from a miscarriage and the damage Fabian had inflicted on my body but my emotional scars ran far deeper than any of the superficial wounds.
I inhaled deeply hoping that the juniper aroma of the bath salts would serve to cleanse my spirit. My efforts were once again futile. Despite my attempts, my mind continued to wander back to the past.
I resentfully recalled the many times I had compromised myself and my beliefs for the sake of my love for an undeserving man. I couldn’t count how many times he had played me, often right in front of my face. He’d even brought a girl to our home claiming she was an old friend. I befriended her, smoked Ls with her and talked to her, only to find out months later that she was actually one of his many lovers. Each and every time I discovered an infidelity, I vowed to leave him but each and every time, I took him back.
I became so insecure and distraught that I convinced myself that if I shared in his passion for other women, it would be easier to deal with, that he wouldn’t then have to go do it behind my back. So I proposed a threesome. Naturally he jumped at the invitation. I remembered clearly how revolted I felt the first time I saw him fuck another woman, so much so that in the middle it I had to run to the bathroom to vomit. I realized then and there that the way he fucked me was no different from the way he fucked all the other women he’d been with. For the longest time, I held on to the illusion that only I could spark such zeal and tenderness in him but that night, watching him kiss and caress that female, I saw that I had only been fooling myself.
The problem was that once I did it, I couldn’t go back. Fabian demanded threesomes regularly. I was so asfixiada, so entregada that I obliged. I numbed myself with drugs and alcohol and did what he wanted, when he wanted. I sucked his dick while he ate an unfamiliar pussy. I performed felatio on a stranger while he fucked me from behind. Later, once the euphoria of the drugs had worn off, I would cry in the bathroom, running the shower so that he wouldn’t hear my pitiful howls.
I often wondered how it was I was able to attend school fulltime and actually maintain an impressive GPA but, come what may, I did. Somehow I would zone out my pain and heartache and concentrate on the work at hand. I felt sometimes like school was my escape, the one place where I could free my soul of the manacles that was my obsession with Fabian. Despite how vulnerable and insecure I felt, the one thing I depended on was my drive and
dedication to my schooling and academic future. I always promised myself that I’d never let anything get in the way of my education. That was my one consolation - that I hadn’t compromised my studies for anything or anyone.
I was only two months away from receiving my bachelor’s degree. I vowed silently to myself that I would graduate on time, even if it killed me.
10
I jumped out of the bath. I had fifteen minutes to make it to my Writing Class. It didn’t matter that the doctor in the ER had given me a note permitting me another day of respite. I had to go to class if I wanted to graduate on time. I ignored the stitch of pain in my front as I changed quickly into a Juicy sweat suit and ran out the door. As I sped to class, scanning the block for any signs of Fabian, I turned on my cell for the first time since being released from the hospital. My voicemail signal rang immediately, startling me so that I almost tripped. I put off hearing my messages knowing it was Fabian calling. I just wasn’t ready to take that on. Instead, I called my best friend, James.
“What up, nena? I’ve been calling you. Why’d you have your phone off? Are you okay?” asked James nervously. James was all too aware of my abusive relationship. I didn’t tell him everything but I shared enough for him to know that the partnership was unhealthy. Many times he’d lectured me about how I was selling myself short. He’d remind me of the bright future I had ahead of me and warned that Fabian was the only obstacle in my path. Simply put, I deserved better, there was no denying that.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said almost inaudibly.
“Liar!” James knew me well enough to know when something was wrong. We’d met during our first year at CU and had become immediate friends. Of course Fabian disapproved of our friendship due to his irrational jealousy but I had maintained the closeness in spite of Fabian’s condemnation. “Come through. Let’s smoke an L and talk,” James offered.
“I have to go to class. I’ll call you when I get out,” I replied with moistening eyes.
I was relieved to find that class had been cancelled. I was surprised because Professor Daines was known for holding class even if she was running a high fever and coughing up a lung. I immediately felt guilty when one of my classmates informed me that Professor Daines had sprained her ankle on her way to class.
“I hope she’s okay,” I mused worriedly.
Professor Daines was my favorite professor at Columbia. I’d taken a writing class with her every semester since my freshman year. I loved the way she challenged me and demanded perfection and would call a student out if she saw that they were half-assing their work. I admired the way she brought out the best in her students. She wasn’t just my professor, she was my mentor. She was the one that had put it into my head that I should consider a career in writing. Although I hadn’t confessed to her that I was in a sadistic relationship, Professor Daines had picked up on it in my writing. “All fiction has a basis in reality,” she often said. The professor didn’t pry but always assured me that if I needed someone to talk to or anything at all, I could always feel comfortable coming to her.
As I walked out of Lewisohn Hall I became increasingly aggravated. This was the one time that I would have taken Professor Daines up on that offer. Now that I needed her, she had her own issues to deal with. Story of my life, I brooded miserably.
My warped relationship with Fabian had made me a guarded individual. I didn’t feel comfortable talking to many people about my troubles so it felt odd to feel the need to talk to the professor. I knew, however, that I had no intention of talking to a stranger about it even if she was a licensed professional. That’s why I hadn’t opted to speak to the social worker at the hospital. If I were ever going to open up to anyone about my grief, it would have to be with someone with whom I had an established relationship.
I called James from outside his dorm, East Campus. “I’m coming up,” I said.
“A’ight. Perfect timing. I’m rollin’ an L.”
I smiled as I waited for the elevator. I loved the shit out of James. I could always rely on him to make me laugh when I thought I couldn’t. At times I felt he was too hard on me but sometimes that was what I needed without knowing it. When I sought a reality check, to be put in my place, I knew I could go to James. He never failed me and as I rode the elevator to the fourteenth floor, I realized that a dose of James was what I needed right then.
James’s jaw dropped when he saw the bags under my eyes and my sallow complexion. “What the fuck happened?” he asked hugging me.
“Let’s just smoke, please,” I pleaded. “I’ll tell you in a second. Let me just relax.” I looked him dead in the eyes, hoping he would see the despair.
“No problem, ma.”
He passed me the L and a lighter and I watched James as he prepared a Grey Goose with cranberry and squeezed a slice of lime into the drink. “It’s a little early for a drink but it looks like you need one,” he said laughing, making an effort to lift my spirits.
“Good lookin’ out.” I drank half the glass in one swallow.
“That bad, huh?”
I just sighed and lit the L. I took a deep drag and lay back as the grajo-smelling fumes filled my lungs. I immediately felt the marijuana-induced euphoria begin to take hold and took another puff before passing it.
I watched James as he smoked. He was a good-looking guy; tall, lanky with thin lips, attentive eyes and a killer smile. If I’d met him in another lifetime, maybe, but I hadn’t and I couldn’t say I regretted that. He was my closest confidante, my boy and I couldn’t fathom things being any different.
James choked on the malodorous ganja sending me into a fit of hysteria. The weed had calmed my nerves. I felt giddy and the most cheerful I’d felt in days. James chuckled in between coughs.
“So what’s up, nena? Ready to talk?”
My mood became solemn. I took a deep breath and filled James in on the ghastly events of the past few days. I admitted that it wasn’t the first time Fabian had laid his hands on me and told James of the many times Fabian had deceived and manipulated me. James let me speak without interruption, getting up only to pass me a handkerchief to clean my dripping eyes and nose, and to place himself next to me to console me as I vented.
When I was done talking, I felt like a huge weight had been removed from my shoulders. In a way, finally telling someone of what I had endured in the past five years freed me of the pain. I began the process of healing and redemption.
“So, what you gonna do?” asked James pointedly.
I looked at James in shock. For once, no ‘I told you so’s’ or ‘You shoulda known better’s’ came out of his mouth. James gazed at me with concern. I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly.
“I need to leave him, James. For the sake of my emotional and physical health and my future, I need to walk away from him and not look back.” I choked back the tears. “But I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to leave.”
“You leave by leaving, India, that’s how,” James said frankly. “You’re stronger and smarter than you give yourself credit for. C’mon yo!” James stopped himself and shook his head. I sensed that he knew that this wasn’t the time for hard-ass James. I needed him to be delicate. “What can I do to help, ma? Say the word.”
I sat back and sipped my drink. I didn’t know what to say. James took my glass and refilled my drink as if on cue.
“Thanks, pa.” I stared at the glitter of the cubes in the cup. “You know, you’re right. I’m stronger and smarter than I give myself credit for.” I smirked as an idea dawned on me. “You ever notice how I’ve never worked in my entire college career?”
“Duh, your man or ex-man,” he corrected with pride, “is a dealer. What the fuck you gonna work for?”
“True that. Well, I haven’t spent all the money he’s flossed on me either.” I winked. James stared at me interested. “Yeah, I spent a lot of money in the past four years but I’ve also saved a lot of money too.”
“How much is a lot?” James in
quired with increased curiosity.
“Last time I checked about a month ago, I had $25Gs spread out over four accounts and I’ve deposited at least five to six more since then.” I was feeling progressively more optimistic as I pondered the possibilities. “Plus you know Fabian knows nothing about financial management, right?”
“Typical uneducated drug dealer.” James rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Pathetic.”
“Well, when you in the streets, you make interesting connects. I have a connect at Bank of America that created several accounts for me. Under aliases, of course,” I added to smooth James’s arched eyebrows. “I made sure I have signatory rights on each and every account. He may be a dick and treated me like shit but I’m the only one he trusts with his money, James. Now I’m gonna use that to my advantage. There’s well over 200Gs in those accounts. Maybe even three hundred. Plus I know the combination to his safe and where he keeps some of his money stashed.”
As the alcohol and marijuana mingled in my blood and sharpened my high, the possibilities swirled in my head making me more optimistic and ready to take Fabian on. “That hijo de puta is gonna pay for what he’s done to me. He’s gonna regret the day he fucked with me. I’m gonna hit him where it’ll hurt him the most - in his motherfuckin’ pocket.” I laughed heartily.
I picked up my cell phone. I was finally ready to face reality. I pushed the voicemail button and punched in my password.
11
Yo mamita, where the fuck are you? I went to the hospital and they wouldn’t tell me shit. I call your suite and nobody fuckin’ answers the phone. I call your cell and you have it turned off. I need to know if you’re alive, ma. Oh God, please be alive!!!! Call me, please. I’ll leave you alone if you want me to … just let me know you’re okay.
For a brief moment, I actually felt bad for Fabian. It made me feel good that he was worried about me. I breathed deeply remembering how he’d treated me and every iota of remorse I’d felt left me quickly. I listened to his second message.
Woman's Cry Page 4
