My Broken Pieces : Mending the Wounds from Sexual Abuse Through Faith, Family and Love (9781101990087)

by Rivera, Rosie

  My brothers, their spouses, and my older nieces and nephews were all there and that March seventeenth quickly turned into a Rivera family celebration. Lupe was handing out the “It’s a Girl!” lollipops; Chay was trying to find a way to get all fifteen visitors in the room; Gus kept telling everyone how the baby looked just like him (he says that about all babies in the family and none of them look like him), Juan was entertaining the lobby guests, and Pete was praying and saying how proud he was of me.

  At one point I was alone with my baby and was too shocked to cry until I heard our song, the song I had sung to my baby a hundred times on our commute to UCI while she was in my tummy: “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You”—a cover by Lauryn Hill. I decided right then and there that I would never give up on her, regardless of whether or not we ever had a man in our home.

  When I brought Kassey home to my parents’ house, the entire family was bubbling with excitement. A new baby is always a blessing, but this baby, my beautiful Kassey, was nothing short of a miracle because after months of not speaking to each other, my parents exchanged their first words. As the two proud grandparents fawned over her pretty little face and her tiny hands, my father said to my mother:

  “Ay, mira qué bonita está la niña, verdad, vieja? Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Sí,” she answered.

  And that was the conversation starter. They never slept in the same bed again, they never had a relationship again, but at least they weren’t enemies anymore. And that was a huge gain for all of us.

  • • •

  About two hours after Kassey was born, Chief showed up to meet his daughter—his spitting image. He came by after visiting hours since he wanted to make sure he didn’t run into my brothers. The instant he held Kassey in his hands, he broke down and began to cry. Like me, he fell totally in love with her.

  Amid the exhaustion and confusion of those first few days with Kassey, in the back of my mind I began thinking, What if this precious baby turns him around? He clearly adores her—maybe he’ll start loving me too?

  But of course I was wrong. During the pregnancy, I had gained sixty pounds and after Kassey was born, I weighed two hundred and sixty. Chief wanted nothing to do with me but he came around every weekend to see his precious little daughter.

  My sister had taught me that unless it was an extreme situation (as was the case of Trino), you never keep your kids away from their father because it hurts the children more than it hurts him. So I decided to make the best of it. After Kassey was born, I started going on one crazy diet after another, thinking that if I managed to lose enough weight, Chief would have no other option than to fall back in love with me. I did everything I could to make myself attractive to him. I worked out four hours a day and went on an extreme diet but only lost twenty pounds; not enough to win him back. I went to a plastic surgeon and had liposuction to remove fat deposits from my stomach and hips. I would stop eating for days, and took diet pills that made me sick, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be thin. In my mind, being thin was synonymous with being loved so I was willing to do whatever it took.

  I managed to lose some weight but in my mind it was never enough and I complained about it to my sister all the time.

  Finally, one day Chay said to me: “You’ve got to stop throwing a pity party for yourself, Samalia”—one of the thousands of nicknames Chay had for me. “Do you really want to do something about your weight?”

  “I do, Sister, I do!”

  “Well, then,” she said. “You need to imagine yourself the way you want to look and take the steps to get there. What do you think will help?”

  In my frantic search for the magical solution to my woes, I had been reading about gastric bypass so I started telling Chay about it. But she immediately responded by saying, “I hear people have died from that.”

  “I’m going to die anyway,” I answered, “so I might as well die thin. Bury me in a two piece if I’m skinny.”

  Chay convinced my parents to pay for the procedure and after that I lost about sixty pounds. But I still wasn’t happy with myself.

  What did give me a thrill, however, was a letter I received in the mail. I had applied to Whittier Law School in Costa Mesa, California, and jumped for joy when I was admitted. “I did it!” I shouted.

  I was the first woman in our family ever to go to law school.

  Amid all that turmoil, I managed to graduate from UCI with honors and a 4.0 average in my last two years. And I’d gotten into law school. That Christmas, Chay gave me the best present of my life. Chay was the best at giving presents. She always took the time to select the perfect gift for everyone in her life. That Christmas was particularly special though, because wrapped in a big gift bag with a large bow was a beautiful plaque that said:

  FOREVER RESPECTED FOR YOUR STRENGTH AND DETERMINATION.

  I broke down crying when I saw it. The fact that the strongest woman I knew respected me meant the world to me. I’ve never loved myself, but when she gave me that plaque, I felt as if I had done something worthy of respect and admiration. I remember thinking, I can love myself now. I have earned it. Not because of the diploma but because I triumphed over everything that was supposed to break me, everything that was supposed to make me a statistic—I wasn’t a high school dropout, I wasn’t a college dropout, I was a single mom but even so, that didn’t stop me. So that moment, when I was twenty-one years old, I finally started to love myself.

  Or so I tried.

  eight

  a false start

  In 2006, out of nowhere, one of my childhood friends popped back into my life. For years, Pedro had been close to our family and, with the exception of the abuse, knew everything about me—the good, the bad, and the ugly.

  The first time I met Pedro was when we were about eleven years old. I met him through my brother Gus. He’s the nephew of a friend of the family. For many years we were just acquaintances and we would meet at family parties and get-togethers. I didn’t see him for many years, except, when I became pregnant with Kassey, he suddenly reappeared in my life. As soon as he found out I was expecting, he called me up to congratulate me. I thanked him and explained that I was happy but the circumstances weren’t exactly great—I wasn’t with the dad so as far as I could tell at the time, I was going to be a single mom. Pedro didn’t seem to think that was a drawback. He was so happy for me and on the spot offered to help with anything I needed. All throughout the pregnancy he called and stayed in touch with me and slowly but surely, we became good friends. We talked a lot and no matter how hard things got for me, he always tried to make me smile and make me laugh. He was a very funny man, very hardworking, and in that sense he reminded me of the men in my family. At the time he was working hard at building his career as a car salesman and I really admired him for that. Eventually we became very close and I started to rely on him for support—he was a friend I could always talk to, but I still didn’t see him as anything more.

  He never disappointed me. He just kept showing up and showering me with attention. He called me every day just to see how I was doing. He was my shoulder to cry on, the person I shared anything good that happened in my life and no matter what I told him—whether it was that I was dropping out of law school or going out on a date with another guy—he supported me. “Don’t worry, Rose, this is going to be good. You’re going to be good.”

  After Kassey was born, he told me that he was in love with me. I thought he was nuts! Not only did I see him as just a friend, but also I was still overweight, I was a single mom, and my baby’s dad didn’t want to be with me. How in the world could he be in love with me?

  But Pedro saw things differently. He admired me for being a single mom—in fact his mom had raised him on her own—and he wanted to take care of me. “Rosie,” he’d say, “I am going to make you my queen and you’ll never have to work another day unless you really want to.” It obviously wasn’t what
I wanted, but the fact that he would say so made me feel like the most special person in the world. But I simply couldn’t see him as anything other than a friend. I told him so, and asked him to stop declaring his love for me, so he did and we just continued to hang out as the best of friends. To me it was wonderful to know that I could count on his support and the fact that he cared so much about me and my daughter made me start to care more about myself. Whether I was looking for a lunch date, a gym date, or someone to go to the movies with, Pedro was always there.

  Yet in my heart I was still stuck on the idea of getting back together with Chief. I wanted so badly for my little girl to have her father that for a long time, I continued to call him and text him, trying to convince him to be with me. He obviously didn’t want me, but I felt that at least one day I’d be able to tell my Kassey how hard I really tried. I owed her at least that. My love for her was more than my pride, and even though I didn’t love Chief anymore—I lost all respect for him when he started dating someone else while I was pregnant and sacrificing all I had for our child—I was still in love with the idea of him and me being Kassey’s parents together.

  I don’t know if I would have ever stopped trying to get back together with him had it not been for Chief’s mother, who over the course of our whole ordeal became a dear friend. One day while we were talking on the phone, she said something I will never forget: “Rosie, you are a wonderful girl, and I would love to have you as my daughter-in-law, but I don’t want you to wait for him any longer. You need to get on with your life.”

  The fact that she was the one saying it to me finally made it click. My heart broke in a million pieces, but she was right: Chief didn’t love me and there was no amount of convincing that was going to change his mind. So I gave up.

  And who did I turn to?

  Pedro, of course.

  Here was a man who didn’t judge me for my past, promised to make me happy, and wanted to take care me and of my baby girl. He absolutely adored Kassey and that for me was huge—almost more important than the fact that he loved me. I wasn’t physically attracted to him, but I knew he was a good man and my daughter needed a man at home, not only on the weekends, which is when Chief saw her. So I said to myself, why not? But from the first day we started dating, I was completely honest with him. I told him that I was willing to give it a try, but I didn’t love him.

  “That’s fine,” he said. “You’ll grow to love me. Just give me a chance.”

  • • •

  It was late afternoon and Pedro and I were sitting in his car, drinking cheap wine, listening to Norah Jones and making out. We had been dating for about a month and despite the fact that I wasn’t yet in love with him, things were going smoothly and I was happy.

  Suddenly, between kissing, Pedro said to me, “Wouldn’t it be great if you married me?”

  “Yeah, baby, yeah,” I responded. In the heat of the moment, I didn’t really register what he was saying.

  “I mean, seriously,” he continued, all out of breath. “Would you marry me?”

  I suddenly stopped and looked him in the eyes.

  “Wait, what? Are you serious?” I asked.

  “Yes, Rose, I’ll make you my queen.”

  I knew he treated his mom and sister like queens and as far as I could tell, he was doing the same thing with me. I knew I didn’t really love him, but did that really matter anymore? I’d tried so hard to find love; what if I just needed to let it find me? Ultimately, what mattered most to me at that point was that there was someone in the world willing to marry me, and I didn’t want to let the opportunity pass. Pedro was a good man, his feelings were real, and that was good enough for me.

  “Okay,” I responded. “But we have to do it now.”

  “Okay!” he said, excitedly.

  I immediately texted my girlfriend Danna and asked her to find me a wedding chapel where we could get married right away—I wanted to make sure we sealed the deal before he changed his mind. My friend, of course, thought I was crazy but knew I couldn’t be deterred once I set my mind to something.

  “I’m on it,” she responded, and within the next ten minutes she called back with the information: we could get married at the Guadalupe Wedding Chapel in downtown L.A. There was someone there who could officiate the ceremony and handle all the paperwork.

  Two minutes later we were on our way.

  By the time we pulled into the parking lot, about thirty minutes later, I started to get cold feet. What was I doing? Was this really the way it was supposed to happen? This was my wedding day, darn it. Why wasn’t I happy? I wanted so badly to believe that this was going to be my happily-ever-after, but something in the bottom of my heart was telling me it wasn’t. I could feel it in my gut. I asked Pedro to give me a moment and I sat there in the car, thinking for about ten minutes . . . and I remember thinking ten minutes was a long time! Of course ten minutes are nothing when it comes to making such a big life decision, but I was desperate and when you’re desperate you make stupid, rash decisions that will affect the rest of your life.

  I told Pedro what I was feeling and right away he hugged me reassuringly and said, “Don’t worry, Rose, this is going to be the beginning of our fantastic life together.”

  I looked into his big brown eyes. He seemed so happy and sincere that right then and there I decided to believe him. I needed to believe him.

  With that, we walked into the chapel and there, before a justice of the peace and not a single friend or family member in sight, we exchanged our vows, pledged our love, and became husband and wife.

  After the ceremony, Pedro and I drove back home to my mother’s house to pick up Kassey, but I didn’t tell a soul what I had done. I only whispered into Kassey’s ear, “You’re going to have a stepdaddy, and Mommy won’t be alone anymore.” Of course, she was too young to know what I was talking about, but I wanted her to know that we were going to be all right. It was our little secret. Pedro was going to love her like a father and at last she would be able to have the happy, perfect childhood I’d always dreamed of for her.

  Yet as happy as I was for having found Kassey a dad, I started to freak out in regard to my family. They weren’t going to like the fact that I eloped; they weren’t going to like it one bit. This isn’t the way we do things, I thought. They’re going to be hurt that I didn’t even include them. When I explained it to Pedro, he understood my concern and he was willing to do whatever it took for me to be happy. So I came up with a plan.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” I told him. “We’re going to do this in reverse. First, you’re going to propose to me, however you want to do it, and you’ll meet with my father and ask for my hand in marriage.” I figured that after Dad said yes, we could plan a proper wedding, a big reception, and no one would have to find out we had already been married. It was the perfect plan!

  But of course, it didn’t go as expected. Pedro wanted to propose to me in front of my whole family so we got our friend Hector to come and record the big event. But as soon as Pedro opened his mouth I had to ask him to stop the camera. My mom was so upset and she started telling us we weren’t ready—she didn’t think we should be dating, much less planning to get married. Lupe had tears in his eyes and he said to Pedro, “I have seen her suffer so much, I just want her to be happy. All I ask is that you don’t hurt her.” No one else really said anything but it was clear that they didn’t approve of the engagement. Chay, especially, was very quiet. She knew I was making a mistake but she was going to stay by my side and make it with me. I didn’t know what to think because if they didn’t agree with the engagement they would have been horrified to learn we were already married.

  In the end, my father gave us his blessing and we announced our plans to get married. Those were the best of days—and Pedro really did treat me like a queen. He would open every door for me, pay for every single one of my needs, shower me with gifts and
compliments, and he even went as far as introducing me to everyone as his queen. My initial doubts about this marriage started to dissipate and I felt incredibly lucky to have found such a good man.

  • • •

  Three days later, however, the throne I thought I was sitting on began to crumble. We were at a restaurant, and I was dressed in one of my usual short skirts—clothes he admired and had seen me in so many times.

  A few men near the bar began making comments. I didn’t pay them much attention but Pedro interpreted their comments as flirting, and I could see the anger rising in his eyes.

  “You better get some new clothes or you will wear mine,” he said sternly. “I don’t want you to wear those short skirts anymore.”

  I kind of dismissed his comment, thinking it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but as days passed, he became more and more obsessive. He told me to stop smoking and drinking; he’d throw away my skirts, ask me not to wear makeup. Soon I wasn’t even allowed to hang out with my sister! I didn’t understand what was happening. This loving guy who had boosted my ego and lifted my spirits was suddenly changing on me. Everything he had loved and celebrated about me suddenly became a threat to him and I started to feel as if I was under constant surveillance. He wanted to control every single aspect of my life. It was as if he resented the fact that he had worked so hard to get me, and once he did, he was determined to keep me on a short leash.

  I couldn’t believe what he was asking of me. But I was so exhausted and so tired of all the drama that for the most part, I followed along. My problem was that even though to the outside world Pedro was just my fiancé, he was already my husband and no matter how irrational things seemed to me, there was one thing I knew for sure and it was that I didn’t want to fail at my marriage.