"That's a good lil'girl, see how easy it is to compromise? Now get your ass in bed, we've got a busy day tomorrow."
Later Saturday Night...
It was a quiet ride back to the hotel in the taxi. Crystal, sat watching the intermittent illumination of the street lamps as they rode through the late night city, each light bringing a glow to her pretty face. Once more, many things were on her mind - which was becoming the norm now. Thinking about her past life, about Victor and Benjamin. Now that she was no longer with him, the longing, the need had receded. Yet she wondered should she have given in and let him kiss her, just to see for herself if there was something there. Just to see what he would make her feel. Would she have recoiled in distaste, or, would she have sunk into him and felt ignited? Something told her it would have been the latter and she just couldn't bare the thought of it, feeling as she did now.
She was at a stage where she understood enough about life, she'd now had enough exposure to life's ups and downs to know that at this moment, she was vulnerable. Feeling alone, lost and needing someone to hold. Yet, such needs were so deceptive, tricking one into believing that the thrill of a touch was something more than it was. It was too much to bring on right now, making matters in her life worse. Even so, she couldn't help but wonder. She visualized being there with Benjamin and then seeing Victor come into the room. Just the conjured image made her heart trip up. Who was she kidding, at present, her heart still belonged to that man, the man she married; Victor.
Once again she felt regret fill her to the point of choking, making her eyes water. So much had been destroyed between them due to her actions; due to her erratic need to control everything, intensifying her anxiety to the point of attack.
Why?
Because she hadn't been able to take the tiniest dose of criticism from someone who appeared for all intents and purposes, to be perfect, together, maybe a tad pompous in his arrogance. Yet, had he been? Looking back, Crystal realized that it very well may be that she saw him that way due to her own distorted and immature thinking. Her imagination back then had a way of turning what he'd been trying to say to her all those times into a personal attack. In her own mind, she wondered had she too fallen victim to societies brain-wash scam, that made her believe that the white male was the ultimate prize of mankind, some superior being, and that she, was just a lowly black woman trying to stand before him? Crystal realized that she must have been feeling the negatives of that thinking because had she considered him a peer on equal level with her, she would have been more companionable, communicative, willing to hear him out. Not taking everything he said so personal, but as a fellow adviser. Instead, she had felt picked on, demeaned, belittled. As if he were standing over her, waiting for her to make a mistake, waiting to point out how beneath him she was. Was it because he was white that she felt beneath him? What if he were black and tried to correct her? She wondered would she have reacted the same? Yet, why did it make a difference?
Why?
Society and her father.
Looking back over her younger days, as a young girl, she could see herself, their home, her mother. Realizing that it was possible she'd done wrong by not telling her mother about him. The way he really was. How nasty, evil, mean and hateful. Maybe, she should have told her mother about all the times he thrilled in hurting her, cutting her to pieces with his words. He'd never once spoken to her with words of kindness, with the compassionate care that a father would, not once. He simply could not stand the sight of her.
Again, Crystal wondered why? Because at first, it had hurt, hurt like a punch in the stomach.
She remembered an incident where she accidentally stepped on a cassette tape of his, a compilation of music that had taken him a while to find and combine. Borrowed from various associates. Music he wouldn't be able to get again unless he bought it, which of course would require the purchase of many entire albums. He would never do such a thing, he always borrowed others and dubbed it to a cassette, making what he needed and passing it back to them. Well, she'd stepped on it running through the house. Cracked the casing so that it wouldn't play anymore. He'd been furious. Her mother had been sleeping, he'd grabbed her by the front of her shirt. Yanked her right up to his face and growled low at her, always low when her mother was home.
"You motherfuckin' waste of space! I ought'ah beat the fuck out'yo ass! You see what you did?! You know how much this cassette was worth? More than your worthless ass! Motherfucker shoulda been aborted! Left up to me, you would'ah been. Get the fuck out my face, can't stand yo' ass!" He'd shoved his fist knocking her back and off balance where she landed hard on her back and then leapt to her feet and ran off outside. She had been 8. She sat on the back porch of their apartment where they lived, and she had cried. Quietly. Always silent tears that no one could hear. Whimpering for her mother, but never daring to go to her, never daring to tell her. He always did things like that, pushing her, taunting her until she started crying or until her mother was due to come on the scene. After a while, he'd done it so often that it didn't hurt anymore. No, it didn't hurt so much after a while because over and over her anger grew so that she often found places to go, first to cry away the hurt, rocking and then, fantasizing on ways to kill him. Now, as a woman, she wished she'd told her mother about all those times back then. Maybe, just maybe, had she done so, she would have left him and for good. Thing was, her mother went into such an hysterical rage when she thought he did something to them. When he was sober, if they fought he deflected her attack, only shoving and then slapping her once or more. If he took off instead and didn't come back soon, they knew hell would be there upon his return. Because he would return drunk. Sometimes they would leave and stay by Sheila's because her mother just knew what was to come. Other times, they had nowhere to go. He'd come home, full staggering drunk and then get in her mother's face. At that point, her mother was forced to defend herself against him but he was too strong in the end, he'd hurt her, trying to make her regret hitting him and then spend the night torturing her by making her have sex with him.
No
Crystal kept all to herself. Never told her mother any of the things he said, never told her about the things he did. She couldn't risk her mother getting hurt. She was all they had. They had worshipped their mother. Just as their mother tried to protect them, they kept things to themselves to protect her. She had enough on her plate. Working hard, on occasion a second part-time job where Sheila kept them. Trying to pay the bills. Always calling someone, the landlord or utility companies trying to explain why their bill was overdue and head off disconnection or eviction. Doing her best to make sure they had food, often skipping meals herself to make sure they ate. Yes, it had been that bad sometimes. Where she'd been hungry, yet never allowing them to be. She'd fainted at work one time from hunger. The supervisor from her job had called Sheila because that's who their mother told them to call. Sheila gathered them into her van, took Sylvia something to eat and while there, she, Sheila had cried and cursed her mother out at the same time, saying,
"What the hell wrong with you Sylvia!? You sitting up here so hungry you shakin'? Faintin' at work?! How come you didn't tell me you ain't have no food! Or no money for food!? You think I'll let you be hungry? You gone make me kick yo' goddamn ass! This shit don't make no sense! You - ain't - got to be hungry goddammit! You don't ever have to be hungry! Not long as I live and breathe! I'm tired of your ass being like this! I'll give you whatever I got - don't you know I love you girl?!" She had sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks.
It was the first time she had seen her mother's friend, Sheila, cry.
She watched her mother try not to shake as she ate, tears rolling down her face as well because she was ashamed.
Crystal remembered, she remembered it well.
Their mother had to make their father feel really ashamed before he walked in the door with groceries. Crystal reflected back also remembering a big fight they'd had because her mother had found out that he'd been going by his mothers to eat,
when they had no food in the house. Her mother tried to leave him again after that. But poverty was cruel. There was no money or means to move from one place to another, especially if you owed on rent from a past place. If you owed the light company, the gas, the telephone, whenever they had telephone. You were forced to stay put and continue to make ends meet because once you left a place, once you gave them an opening to disconnect you, they wouldn't re-connect unless those past bills were paid. They were stuck and good and he knew it. No matter what Sheila told her, she would only go to them for anything when she had no other way out and her back was up against the wall. Times had been hard growing up. Made even more difficult because her mother couldn't get rid of him. If Crystal thought they could escape him and he never find them, perhaps she would have told her mother about how low he was. But too often, they had no place to go and he would find them, force his way back in because they were married and her mother couldn't afford a divorce. Sylvia, her mother, fought, worked and scraped together what she could and somehow they made it, they all learned to cope, resigned to their life as it was. Her mother was her hero, no one stood above her, now or ever.
Crystal learned to cope.
She learned to do all she could to make her mother proud of her. She did her lessons in school. Got good grades, but was in trouble on occasion too, for fighting, it couldn't be helped. She'd tried not to get into trouble because if she did, the school would call her mother and she might be sleeping, taking a little nap in between jobs. Even so, she rose and made it to the school, listened to what happened and said not a word in front of the teachers. She would lead her out away from them and then ask her, what happened. Crying Crystal would tell her. Her mother would wipe her tears and load her into their rickety wagon, then look at her and say, "Fuck them, let's go home." Crystal would slap her hands over her mouth, and then laugh, "Ooooh mama! That's a bad word!" She'd giggle.
"I don't care, piss me off talkin' crap about my baby! They didn't even listen to you did they?"
"No mama, I tried to tell'em what happen, they never listen."
"Don't you worry, you can start dinner while I'm sleeping, put on some rice, I already have the beans cooking. When I wake up, I'll take you by Sheila's to stay a while, would you like that? Stay with her while you suspended? I don't want you at home when I'm at work."
"Please mama yes, I wanna stay by Sheila's."
"Okay, get some things together and I'll take you by there on the way to work."
Remembering, funny how strong memories could be. On such a nice evening, only slightly cool, she shivered a bit, her teeth actually chattered. She wasn't really crying even though she felt a tear on her cheek, with icy fingers Crystal touched it, examined it and wondered what ingredients in the human body came together to make a tear? When creating us, how did God know we'd need them? She took a deep breath, feeling a bit cold and couldn't imagine that it was the weather.
Her thoughts suddenly turned back to her husband.
Victor - he'd been so beautiful and perfect as far as she was concerned. Something she felt herself far from - way far.
Thinking about all her actions, how she reacted to him, it made little sense to her now. No one was perfect. So why had she felt so humiliated by her own short comings? It made no sense now to have been as she was with him, lashing out at him because he'd tried to tell her things she needed to be told. He was her husband after all, if he couldn't correct her on matters, who the hell could?
She took her phone out, scrolled down to his name.
She wondered what he was doing right now?
She kept running her thumb over the key pad so tempted to call him. But how could she? What would she say? "Hi, I just called to say I'm sorry?" She'd said that to him so many times she'd lost count. Maybe say that she was changing? Maybe tell him that she'd been doing a lot of thinking about herself, a self analysis as it were. Looking at the big picture of her life and coming to understand the things that drove her to such mad episodes. Maybe try to help him understand why she hadn't been able to take it for him to see her as stupid, inadequate, not as good as him. She wanted him to understand her, what she was feeling. But how could he? Every time she'd tried to in the past, it would clog up in her throat, paralyzing her, because she didn't want his pity. She didn't want him looking at her as if she were a charity he brought on and better keep because her life had been hell.
She imagined trying to do it now, trying to see him on the other end. Would he be with Jeanine? Maybe holding the phone and trying to find a way to stop her from saying anymore. Maybe they would be laughing at her on the other end. Maybe she would even be listening in. She'd come off sounding desperate. Looking and sounding even more worthless. Jeanine, his perfect little white, mild mannered, mother's choice, laughing at her. Seeing her as someone who was willing to beg. Willing to take him back even after he'd cheated on her, with her! So low on the scale that she would still be willing to take him back after that.
Tears rolled on.
She couldn't do it.
She folded the phone up and put it away, resolved that her decision was now final. There was no going back.
She would not be what her father pegged her. She would die alone before she would beg, no way was she crawling on her hands and knees to be what her father once said about her, "You ain't gone be nothin' but a sorry ass cum bucket no way! That's what you all are!" She hadn't quite known what he meant at the time but she knew now. Again, sometimes like now, she wished she'd told her mother. If she hadn't been so afraid for her, but he'd hurt her enough. She couldn't live with watching her be hurt again because she ran and told every little thing he said and did. Too often she lay listening to her mother cry at night. She could not bring herself to add to it.
She was a woman now and the answer was to find a way to fix herself.
Broken as she was, she was a hard woman to love for any man.
A failed marriage was a big enough wake up call for her; losing Victor, her first love. She'd lost her virginity to him. Gave him two sons who had filled him with pride, they were so much like him. Darren looked like her, had her features but just like his older brother, they had their father's coloring. Again her thoughts went in another direction. She didn't want to be from one man to another, in and out of different beds. Her mother hadn't been that way, hadn't raised her to be that way. Despite the ugly things her father had said, she was not cheap, low, worthless. And she didn't want to fall for the trap of vulnerable loneliness that would land her with another, ending up in bed, a relationship where perhaps once again, she would ruin it.
Chapter 221
Like she ruined things with Victor.
She'd started the proceedings for the divorce. It was the right thing to do. Besides, he deserved to be happy. She had no right to call him, lay all of this on him now. Not now when he'd finally come to a decision to move on because of what she'd done, file. Once again, she made her bed, she would cope, she would lie in it. With all of that going through her mind, as strong as she'd always tried to be, she didn't want to be strong anymore. She thought about Angela and wished she could be what she was, a little girl again; no way possible, her childhood was gone, she wanted to fold up and cry. Because right now, she hurt and she just wanted it to go away. She didn't want to carry the burden of what it would take for her, to fix her. But she knew that to do so was with her and her alone. She just wanted someone who could bear the load of all that she was feeling, just for a little while, someone who could take it. She couldn't lay it on Victor, that was over. He'd think she was trying to get him back. She couldn't lay it on her mother, it would kill her to know the things in her mind, heart, head from her past that made her feel as she did right now.
She had no one.
The cab pulled into the hotel drive - the drop off point. She looked up and leaning against the large square column at the drive up was Shawn, he was standing out there waiting for her. Looking for her. She couldn't believe it. It had never occurred to her th
at he would be there. But why not? Since coming into her mother's life, he'd been there. Standing strong, absolute, un-moving from the position he'd taken on as head of their family. Even when he'd been hurting, her mother gone, he'd been there. As if he valued them, needed them. There he was now, standing and waiting as if he valued her, as if her life meant something to him, as if he could not sleep until he knew she was home, safe. As if she were his daughter, just the way a real father would be, he was there ... there for her.
Suddenly he blurred as she watched him stand away from the cement block, he was approaching the cab; realizing she was going to lose it, she threw her door open, jumped out and ran straight at him. She threw her arms around his shoulders and began weeping once again, weeping because she knew, she wasn't alone after all.
Shocked, Shawn grabbed her, held her, "What's happened?!" He asked in a panic. "Has someone done something to you?!" His voice was almost booming while trying to keep calm. The driver saw it, panicked and yelped out, "Hey! I didn't do nothing to her! It wasn't me! I didn't do nothing!" He hit the gas and took off scared, unsure of what was happening.
"Crystal! Talk to me, what's happened?" He held her upper arms looking into her face, checking for signs of something not right.
"N-nothing! Nothing's happened." She wanted to stop crying but for some reason of late, all the years of bottled up anguish, fear, pain and anger were bubbling up and out uncontrollably. "I'm just ... I'm just..." She couldn't speak, the clog was there again, choking her and all she could do was cry.
The arms went around her, strong arms, holding her the way a loving father would, "Lil'mo ..."
Immediately the nick-name for her that he'd given her made her chuckle and then laugh, it meant of course, moron ... what she'd said they looked like another time when she'd needed something, someone... then too, he was there. Her chuckle made him smile. "You feeling down again sweety?" He asked as she stood wiping her eyes like a little girl, nodding her head in spite of her burst of laughter a second earlier.
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