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

by Rivera, Rosie

  During commercial breaks on the show, Chay and I started dreaming of making a difference in the world on a much larger scale. We talked about one day traveling the globe and filling arenas with a message of hope—where the singing would be secondary to changing lives.

  The topic surfaced every couple of weeks and I would remind Chay, “God didn’t make you famous just for fun. There’s a purpose behind it all.”

  The next month, in one of the last conversations we had together on the subject, Jenni told me, “Sister, I know we talked about flying to other countries singing and speaking, but I’m really tired. I’ll leave the traveling to you, but I wouldn’t mind having a weekly event at the Staples Center here in LA.”

  I laughed. “You really think big, don’t you!” We both agreed to pray about the possibilities.

  Contacto Directo con Jenni Rivera lasted for exactly fourteen months—from October 2011 to December 9, 2012, and not a day goes by when I don’t thank God for giving me that opportunity. Thanks to that radio show, I was able to talk to my sister and see her every week, and I felt like the most blessed person in the world.

  Toward the end of November 2012, Chay phoned me and said, “I’d like to come to the Thursday night service with you.”

  At our brother’s church, following a deeply moving meeting, she recommitted her life to the Lord.

  Only God knew what would take place a few days later in the mountains of Mexico.

  fifteen

  the unthinkable

  On December 8, 2012, my husband, Abel, and I were attending my niece Karina’s wedding in Las Vegas. Most of our family had made it out for the celebration. Only Chay couldn’t be there because she had booked a performance in Monterrey, which she simply couldn’t cancel—tickets had been booked months in advance and she was never one to cancel on her fans.

  As always, Chay and I spent the day texting back and forth. We were always texting back and forth—it was one big, never-ending conversation—and that day was no exception. Soon enough—or should I say, as usual—the topic turned to boys. Her divorce was not yet final and she was still pretty torn up about it so I was trying get her mind off her ex-husband by asking her to change her avatar picture on BlackBerry Messenger to one of her and Beto Cuevas, one of her cohosts on La Voz México. She was going through a series of avatars featuring her colleagues and friends and I kept teasing her that I wanted one of her and “my new brother-in-law,” as I called Beto.

  “Go take another picture with him and flirt a little,” I texted her.

  “Are you crazy? He’s just my friend!” she answered.

  I believed her and I knew they would never date but I just wanted her to know she was beautiful and strong and she could get any man she wanted. It was a funny, lighthearted conversation, like the thousands of others we’d had throughout our lives. But we never finished it because a few hours later, my cell phone died. I laughed out loud because when this happened, Chay would always complain to me: “Sister, that’s so irresponsible! Carry a charger with you.” She was right, of course. Today, I make sure to carry my charger because a “dead” cell phone always reminds me of my sister, and how I can’t allow it to happen. But right then I didn’t give it much thought. Oh well, I’ll catch up with her tomorrow when we’re back home.

  The wedding took place at The Little White Chapel in Vegas and it was a simple but beautiful ceremony. With almost every Rivera in attendance, it was a loud and boisterous affair before the ceremony but once it began, we were all smiles and tears. Karina looked beautiful and we were all so glad to see her happy. Gus was the proudest dad you’ve ever seen and it was great to see him so happy as well. After the ceremony, we all went to a huge buffet at a fancy hotel and made a ruckus—the party almost ended with the traditional Rivera cake fight but we ultimately decided to spare the bride and not get kicked out of the hotel the way we had been kicked out of Chuck E. Cheese—twice.

  Abel and I had an amazing time but instead of staying in Vegas that night, we decided to drive back home to Los Angeles after the reception. We got in the car at around one a.m. and settled in for the four-hour drive. Abel and I drove back with Kassey and Jacqie, her husband and her daughter. I was exhausted and normally I would have fallen asleep right away, but something inside me felt off. There was this uneasiness in the car. Everyone was asleep except Jacqie and me. I had just spanked Kassey and I was feeling so bad because I never spank Kassey—she is just about the sweetest, most loving child in the entire world—so I woke her up and said, “Hija, come here, I’m sorry I spanked you. I stand firm that you shouldn’t have done what you did, but I shouldn’t have spanked you. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “It’s okay Mami, don’t worry about it, I understand,” she answered gently, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “I shouldn’t have been acting like that.”

  “Okay, baby, I love you,” I answered, and gave her a kiss as she dozed off again.

  I turned back around, hoping that now I’d be able to fall asleep, but nothing. I felt a strange tightness in the pit of my stomach and I just couldn’t relax. I turned around to look at Jacqie and noticed she, too, was still wide awake.

  “You can’t sleep?”

  “No, Tía, I can’t,” she answered.

  I said, “Yeah, me either, Mama.”

  Jacqie told her husband she missed her mom and even though I didn’t say a word, in my heart I couldn’t agree more. How I missed the days before she became famous.

  The rest of the way we drove in absolute silence, the highway lights flashing by.

  When we finally got home a few hours later, I was tired and all I wanted was to get some rest. I don’t know what time I ended up dozing off, but I do know that when the phone started ringing at around seven a.m., I immediately regretted not having turned it off. Who in the world could be calling this early in the morning? I saw the cell phone screen flashing on my nightstand, but could barely open my eyes so I just let it ring. I was too exhausted. I remember thinking it was probably just my brother Lupe. Sometimes, when he has too much to drink, he drunk dials me and serenades me with a beautiful song. When he does it, I actually don’t want to pick up so I can record it! A call at seven a.m. on a Sunday probably meant he had been out late so I figured I’d just let it go to voice mail in case I was in for a special treat.

  But just a few seconds later, the cell phone started ringing again. I tried to ignore it, but then I got a strange feeling. What if it was something important? I stumbled over to my nightstand and grabbed the phone. Sure enough, it was Lupe.

  “Rosa?” he asked.

  “Yes, Brother . . .” I answered groggily.

  “I need you to stay calm. No matter what happens, promise me you will stay calm.”

  My stomach tightened.

  “Okay,” I said, “I promise.”

  Lupe paused for what felt like an eternity.

  “Janney’s plane is missing,” he said finally.

  “What?”

  “They just called me from Mexico. Her plane is missing. We’re doing everything we can to find it.”

  I’m not sure I was really able to process what he was saying at that moment, but my mind decided to focus on the word “missing.” If the plane was missing, that meant it could be found, so I was going to think only about that. Surely, Chay couldn’t be gone. She was clearly missing, so she was going to be found.

  “Rosa, I need you to take care of Mom. It’s all over the news at this point so please go over there as soon as you can and don’t let her watch TV or go on any social media. Just keep her busy until we know more. Pete is already on his way over.”

  “Okay, Brother,” I mumbled, too stunned to say anything else.

  I hung up the phone, and thought, I’m gonna stay calm. I promised Lupe, I’m gonna stay calm. I remember I didn’t even pray to God at that moment. I usually speak to Him about everything, but
at that moment I didn’t reach out to Him because I was too afraid to hear Him tell me that she wasn’t going to be found. I just assumed she was going to be found. She had to be. The idea that something had happened to my sister wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. Like a zombie, I glanced at the cell phone screen in front of me and finally pulled up my Twitter account in order to confirm what Lupe had just told me. Sure enough, people were already tweeting: It’s so sad that she is gone. Rosie, you have our condolences.

  I was furious. Who did they think they were, sending me condolences? Immediately, I shot back:

  Don’t you dare offer me condolences. You don’t know that she’s gone yet.

  • • •

  At the time, Abel and I were living at my mother’s house. After my depression I had decided to quit my great job at Infinity to begin writing my book. I needed to find a stronger sense of purpose and for years, I had been wanting to write about my experience of sexual abuse. I finally felt it was time. It was a huge risk, but Chay had my back and she was so proud of what I was doing. But just a month after I quit my job, Abel was laid off from his job in quality control so we started to have money issues and Mom kindly took us in to live with her until we were able to get back on our feet.

  That morning, I went out to help my mom prepare breakfast, trying to act as normal as possible. But a few minutes later, when Pastor walked through the door, she immediately knew something was up since on Sunday mornings he is usually busy preparing for service.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked when she saw me and Pete. “It’s early. Aren’t you going to go to church today?”

  “No, Mom, I think we’re just going to hang out here today,” Pete said, taking the lead. “We’re always busy on Sundays. I just want to hang out with you. I want to take you out to breakfast. Let’s spend some time together!”

  “Why?” she asked, completely surprised.

  I could barely hold back my tears. The thought of Chay missing, coupled with the sight of my mother, still unaware of what was going on, broke me down inside. I felt as if any minute I could break down, but I knew I had to stay strong for the sake of my mother. Yet no matter how much Pete and I tried to act casual, my mama is a smart lady and she knew something was going on. What surprised her the most was that Pete was there—he is the pastor of our church and it made no sense that he should be paying her a spontaneous visit on a Sunday morning.

  We did our best to field her questions and keep her occupied, while running back and forth to a room where we had a television on quietly. All the stations were reporting, “Jenni Rivera’s plane has gone missing in the mountains of Northern Mexico.” Soon, the breaking news was: “The plane of recording superstar Jenni Rivera has been found. Every section of the private jet is broken and there are no survivors.”

  My mind went into overdrive with every possible scenario. Something had to have happened that we simply weren’t aware of. Perhaps she had decided not to get on that plane at the last minute. Or maybe someone had kidnapped her and they were going to call us for money. Maybe she was being held against her will and was fighting to get back to us. Maybe . . . just maybe. My mind was overflowing with maybes as I tried to grasp onto anything that allowed me to believe that Chay was still alive.

  A few minutes later, I was on the phone with someone when suddenly I heard my mother let out a bloodcurdling scream. We had left her alone for a moment when the phone rang in the other room. My mother picked up and a distraught fan immediately asked her: “Is it true that Jenni is gone? That she died in a plane crash?”

  “That’s why you’re here!” she yelled. “You didn’t tell me anything!” She went straight for the TV. Her eyes were filled with pain and disbelief and all she could utter was the question: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Pete and I tried to explain.

  “Mom, we wanted to make sure it was true. You know how people make stuff up . . . and we didn’t want to upset you. We’re sorry, but with your health problems, we have to take care of you.” But she was hearing none of it. From that moment on she was glued to the television, going back and forth between stations to watch the latest reports, waiting, hoping, for someone to announce that Chay had been found and that she was alive and well.

  But as we all now know, that news never came. With every passing minute, Chay’s disappearance became more and more real even though our hearts and our minds didn’t want to believe it. In the following hours, slowly but surely, the rest of the family started to arrive at the house—my brothers, their spouses and their children, Chiquis, the rest of Chay’s children and even my father. Even though Mom and Dad barely spoke to each other at the time, he joined us as soon as he heard the news. Every family has its problems and ours is no exception, but one thing is true and that is we are always there for one another when things get tough.

  Every Spanish station carried the story nonstop. A number of us decided not to watch TV because many of the things they were reporting were pure speculation and had not been confirmed. But in those first hours, this is more or less what we did know: on the night of Saturday, December eighth, Jenni performed to a sold-out crowd at the seventeen-thousand-seat indoor arena in Monterrey, Mexico. The show ended at around two a.m., December ninth, and, after a local press conference, she, along with publicist Arturo Rivera, attorney Mario Macías, makeup artist Jacob Yebale, and hairstylist Jorge “Gigi” Sánchez, boarded a Learjet piloted by Miguel Pérez and Alejandro Torres, heading to Toluca, where she was to appear on La Voz México. The plane took off at three fifteen a.m. from Monterrey and about sixty miles into the flight due to causes yet to be determined by the authorities, it fell twenty-eight thousand feet and crashed into the mountains of Nuevo León, smashing to the ground at about six hundred miles an hour.

  All sorts of rumors started to surface. People said that the plane, built in 1969, was not properly maintained; that the sixty-seven-year-old pilot wasn’t supposed to fly at night because of his bad vision; that it was all a conspiracy. In times of pain, as humans, we struggle to find explanations for what seems impossible to comprehend. The accident was so absurd; to me it simply couldn’t be true.

  I was a complete mess, but trying so hard to hold it together for the sake of my mother, for the sake of my father—for the sake of Chay’s children, especially. By then, pretty much every member of our immediate family had showed up, and there were about forty of us, all under one roof. The house felt so crowded, but at the same time we were one another’s comfort, and the little solace we found was in one another’s arms. Some of us were preparing food; others were cleaning or doing anything to keep busy and not have to think. Our brothers and I were looking for flights to go and search for her. All of us wanted to go look for her in the hills. We needed to get her back.

  I felt torn between the realization of what had happened, and the hope I still held, deep in my heart, that somehow Chay had survived. Just the day before the accident, she and I had been texting back and forth, making jokes and laughing like we usually did. How could she possibly be gone? How could she be so present one moment and so absent the next? I would text her and send BBM messages and she wouldn’t answer. Chay always replies. This can’t be it, I said to myself over and over again. She can’t have been on that plane.

  Chay’s kids were going through the same thing, or even worse. They were hearing the reports, but they didn’t want to believe what they were saying. There was still no official confirmation that Chay had been on that plane and we were all holding on to that glimmer of hope. I wanted to protect Chay’s children from all the crazy reports we were seeing, but I also needed to be honest with them.

  “Tía, if she’s gone, you have to tell us,” they said to me.

  “If you can handle it, I will tell you,” I promised.

  Shortly thereafter, they found a picture of her foot on the Internet and they asked me, “Tía, is that her foot?”

&nb
sp; I didn’t tell them she was gone but I answered, “It could be that they cut it off and they’re trying to let us know that she’s kidnapped, but yes, that’s her foot.” In such times of crisis, your mind can take you on a wild ride. With childlike faith, we were all hoping against hope but the moment they asked me, I told them what I knew. I had to.

  Hours went by and I could feel my soul shattering into a million pieces. With every ticking minute, I came closer to the realization that Chay might never come back. But I still couldn’t bring myself to talk to God. I needed Him so badly, but I couldn’t speak to Him. To me, not talking to God is like not talking to my best friend or my husband. It was as if I was telling Him not to talk to me if He was going to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. I simply wasn’t ready to hear it from Him because hearing it from Him meant that my worst nightmare had come true.

  But I kept thinking, what can I do? All I knew how to do when I had a problem at this point in my life was worship Him. I was in the choir, I was on the worship team, and worshipping God was what I had learned to do whenever I needed to get through a storm, whenever I felt lost and alone. So even though I wasn’t able to speak directly to God, I reached out to the worship team from church and asked them to join me in worshipping our Lord. They came over right away and as the sun set on that first night without my sister in the world, we gathered in my mother’s living room and quietly sang His glory.

  • • •

  From the moment the first news reports started to surface, a steady stream of people began to congregate in front of Mom’s house. They were Chay’s fans, wanting to offer us their support in our darkest hour. They brought flowers, food, and water to share with us and among themselves, paper butterflies, bottles of tequila, and heartwarming cards of sympathy, letting us know how much she and her music meant to them. She had given them so much; now they were there to give her and her family all their love and support in return.