200 Letters Page 3

  Our first fight was over a Scrabble game. He got so mad at me for playing the word “cunt” that he threw all the tiles at me and then threw me and all my clothes out of our apartment. I was suddenly alone, pregnant, and hurt. The next day he came running with flowers and apologies. He cried and begged on his knees for my forgiveness. He made some excuse for why he was so upset and told me how much he loved me and our baby. He promised he would be a better man to me and the child, that he would never do it again. He vowed he would do whatever it took to make it right.

  Things were good for a while, until our second fight. He threw me across the room because a guy looked at me in a store. That incident was followed by another period of romance, excuses, promises, and reconciliation. The cycle continued and I felt like I was in a relationship with two people. One I hated and the other I adored. Terrell always assured me that the good him was the real him; that he was just going through a lot and needed some help, love, and support.

  I was pregnant with my second child from a second man. And I’ll hand it to him, Terrell knew all the right words to say to make me feel like I should stay and work it out. “Baby, I love you. We are about to bring this beautiful baby girl into the world, and I want to do this with you. I want to be your rock. I want to be the shoulder you can lean on. I want to cook you breakfast in bed and rub your feet after a long day. I want to be with you always. I want you as my wife, my queen, my lover, and my best friend. I know you are the one for me…” he’d repeatedly brain fuck me with that crap.

  I did not know what to do. I prayed a lot during those times. Started reading the Bible, searching for answers. I prayed God would reveal Terrell’s true heart to me. Was Terrell a good guy who just needed help or was he a bad guy pretending to be good. At that time, God didn’t answer.

  At some point during one of the romantic phases, we got married. I figured, I was pregnant, and we loved each other, so God must want us to get married. Besides, I loved sex, but I didn’t want to sin, so marriage seemed like the best option. I really wanted a husband, kids, and my happily ever after. Terrell promised he would give me that kind of life. I hoped he was the good man he claimed to be. I hoped his angry outbursts were just stress and he would improve with a little help.

  As time passed, however, things got worse. Soon there was no more romance. There were only periods when he was abusive, when he neglected me, and when we were cordial. Sometimes I’d try to get romantic with him and he seemed to enjoy my advances, but it hurt that I was doing all the work.

  I tiptoed down to the basement. It was always dark down there. The only light was from the TV. Terrell was wrapped under a comforter cuddled up with his cell phone. I tried to keep the conversation light and calm, “Ronda is having a get together this weekend. Wanna go?”

  “Fine,” he coldly replied.

  Ronda Baker was my very best friend in the whole world. We met in the first grade and were inseparable since. We went all the way through school together and were even college roommates all four years. Then I went to medical school and she became a social worker. We both had kids and they all considered each other cousins. She was my favorite person, and she threw the best parties.

  Ronda never really liked Terrell, but he was my husband, so she was always cordial. She respected our relationship and was supportive of me when I needed a shoulder to cry on. She tried to hold her tongue, but sometimes her criticism of him slipped out.

  Ronda came from a big family that treated me like one of their own. Half of her family were church folk—mature in the spirit, saved, and on fire for God. The other half were thugs -thieves, drug dealers, and willing to kill someone if they thought it necessary. Ronda was a mix of both. She could be sweet and comforting, and she would pray with you through your darkest times. But she has some thug in her, too. She was not afraid to cut anyone who messed with her family and she had offered to cut Terrell several times. Her cousins also offered to put a bullet in him. They were always ready, guns out and a bullet in the chamber. All I had to do was say the word. I never gave it a moment’s thought, though, because I had faith that God would fix it.

  The day of Ronda’s party, I had so much to do. Abigail had dance practice, I needed an oil change, then I needed to go to the grocery store. After that, I came home and did the laundry, orchestrated the kids taking showers and getting dressed, and then I sorted the mail and paid bills. Terrell rarely got mail, but that day he got a letter. It was from the child support office. I went down to the basement and handed it to him. “What’s this?” I asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing” he shrugged it off.

  “Okay, well the kids are almost ready. You want to start getting ready, too?”

  “I am ready.” He said as he pulled back the covers and got up. He always looked fine in jeans and a t-shirt. While he hadn’t shaved in a few days, he looked decent.

  “You want to drive?” I asked.

  “She’s your friend.” Terrell replied.

  I loaded up the kids, hopped in the driver’s seat, and drove while he rested in the passenger seat.

  It had already been a long day and I could have used the rest on the way to Ronda’s. She lived an hour away. We used to live closer, but Terrell and I found the perfect home in the suburbs. Terrell wanted to move even farther away, all the way to Virginia Beach.

  Virginia Beach was one of my favorite places. As a child, my family vacationed there every summer. In my heart, I wanted to live there, but I was worried about moving farther away from family and friends. It would be harder for me to escape when Terrell became abusive if we were so far away and I needed their support. Even though I loved the idea of relocating, I decided not to aggressively pursue a move. Three months before Ronda’s party, I’d stumbled upon a job posting at Norfolk. I applied and had a phone interview, but I never heard back from them. I didn’t bother to tell Terrell or the kids about the interview as I hadn’t planned on taking the job if it was offered to me.

  Ronda’s party was a lot of fun. I got to catch up with old friends and the food was delicious. Terrell ate and then spent the rest of the evening sitting on the top step glued to his phone.

  When we left, I handed him the keys to the car. He looked at me like I was crazy.

  “Terrell, come on, I’ve been running around all day.”

  “Fine,” he groused and snatched the keys out of my hand.

  I strapped all the kids in the car, and we were off. I could not rest because Terrell was driving like a mad man. I-95 had quite a bit of traffic, but he was flying. He was going over eighty, weaving in and out of lanes without regard. He was cutting people off, driving on the shoulder to get around people, honking and flashing his brights. I was afraid for my life. I looked back at my kids who were scared out of their minds. I bit my tongue because I feared it would lead to an argument, but I knew I had to say something.

  “Babe, can you please slow down.”

  “First you make me drive, and now you want to control how I drive,” he seethed. “If you cared, you should have driven.”

  I just closed my eyes and silently prayed, “Lord, please protect me and my babies. You can take Terrell, but please protect me and my babies. Let us get to our destination safely. Please protect the cars who are around us…”

  “Okay, fine. You want me to drive slow, I’ll drive slow,” he said.

  “Thank God, prayer answered.” I thought.

  Terrell drove slowly, alright. He started doing thirty on the freeway. Now people were honking and passing him, but I didn’t care. Me and my kids were safe, so I sat in the passenger’s seat with a big smile on my face. He looked over at me just waiting for me to say something negative, but I didn’t. I just continued smiling and thanking God.

  When we got home, I was even more grateful. I put the kids in bed and went to bed myself, but Terrell went down to the basement.

  The next morning was church. Aaron was not feeling very well so I left him home with Terrell a
nd David. Abigail, and I went to get our worship on. Church was awesome. Pastor was talking about how we should always praise God, even during rough times. It had been a struggle praising God considering how rough my life was at the time, but I decided that I would lift my hands in praise and worship.

  I felt good on my way home from church. Terrell was outside when I pulled up to the house. He was leaning on a white SUV, talking to the driver.

  “Mom, look! It’s Mr. Tiger’s car.” Abigail pointed. Terrell has one close friend, Tiger, who lived a few miles away from us. He came over periodically to smoke weed with Terrell and was usually nice to me. Terrell told me that he had bought a new car, but Tiger really didn’t seem like the SUV type. He didn’t have any kids and he was single, so I thought he’d be in a chick magnet. But hey, maybe he liked SUVs.

  When Terrell saw me, he rolled his eyes and walked back into the house. The white car drove off without stopping to say hi. I assumed Terrell must have told Tiger how horrible I was. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing wrong in the marriage. I tried to be a good wife. I’d even asked Terrell what I could do different to help our marriage. None of his answers made sense.

  He’d say things like, “Don’t say things that will make me angry,” but anything could make him angry. Or he’d say, “I need more money, I need more time off, I need you to let me go out more.” I was already giving him all my money, I took care of the kids after I got home every day to give him a break, and I always let him go out whenever he wanted. He didn’t have a lot of friends, so he wasn’t invited out very often, but that wasn’t my fault.

  And sex? I gave it to him whenever he wanted it and I demanded it whenever I wanted it. We still had plenty of sex despite how disappointed I was with the quality of the marriage. I tried my hardest to satisfy my husband, yet he was never satisfied. I didn’t know what was missing but I knew whatever it was, God could fix it. So, I just continued praying for a miracle.

  Chapter 3 – Ethan

  “You sure you know her well enough to get all serious?” a lot of coworkers, friends and family asked when Tracy and I became a couple. They could discern her true spirit, but in my eyes, Tracy was a good fit for me. She was beautiful and we had a few common interests and goals. She knew about my last marriage and why it failed, and I knew about her previous marriage.

  Her ex-husband was a hustler, unlike me. I didn’t try to get over on people to achieve my goals. I was a military man thus honor and honesty were morals I lived by. Plus, I attended college part time. I wanted a degree in health management so I could progress in my military career. She knew I was career-oriented, and she was initially supportive.

  But as our relationship progressed, she became jealous. She seemed to think every woman wanted me, even the women who outranked me and would ultimately be responsible for my promotions. So, she started to forbid me from socializing or putting in extra time or effort at work.

  I was a friendly guy with a good head on my shoulders, so I’m sure some girls wanted me; but I didn’t want them back. I learned my lesson from my first failed marriage. I wasn’t down for all the cheating and drama anymore. But Tracy did not trust me when I tried to assure her that I wanted only her. If Tracy saw me talking to any female, no matter how innocent, she had no problem walking in and expressing her disdain.

  “Hey, what did your little fan club want?” Tracy sneered.

  “Nothing much. I guess to talk about a whole bunch of nothing and the drama at this place. Why?” I replied.

  “They always coming in here to speak with you. Don’t they got a man or a friend to speak to?”

  “I think you’re overreacting. We’re just friends. Not even friends, really, just coworkers. You need to learn to relax. I’m with you and I’m pretty sure the whole clinic knows that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tracy narrowed her eyes.

  “I think you made it known that I’m with you sooo…no need to get angry.”

  She stared at me for a moment then threw up her hands, “You don’t know how the women are here. They are aggressive and don’t give a damn if a man is taken or not. These bitches are trifling. And you a man. right? Men think with their little heads first and their big heads later.”

  Tracy always felt like I was going to stray and frequently expressed her concerns. She constantly accused me of cheating, and it became an ongoing joke at the clinic. Coworkers often teased me about how jealous Tracy was; I didn’t take them seriously.

  “How’s hawk-eye doing?” Ty asked referring to Tracy. They all called her hawk-eye because she watched me like a hawk.

  “She good.”

  “You missed the Corpsman Ball this weekend. What, the warden didn’t give you a day pass?” Ty laughed.

  “Man, you know she didn’t. Tracy always thinks girls are after me. One time we were at a restaurant ordering food and the waitress was speaking to me about the menu. Tracy took it as flirting. Man, did she tell me off.”

  Ty laughed, “Damn!”

  “I can’t even go to church anymore. Tracy thinks every girl there is trying to get at me. Oh, and God help me if I happen to look in the direction of any female. I don’t even have to look at a girl, Tracy just has to think I’m looking at someone and she fusses ‘What you looking at?’ I have to turn my head really quick and say ‘Nothing, nothing,’ to avoid an argument.”

  “Damn, that’s crazy. You must put it on her for her to be all up on you like that.” Ty said jokingly.

  “Call me King Ding-a-Ling.” I laughed.

  Tracy’s little jealous streak didn’t stop me from dating her ‘cause I thought it was kind of cute. Besides, I figured one day she’d realize I wasn’t going to do her wrong and she’d chill out. We got more and more serious as time passed. We frequently stayed over at each other’s place and did a lot of family activities together. Tracy had two kids, a fifteen-year-old son named Malik and a twelve-year-old daughter named Madeline. They seemed like pretty good kids. Her daughter wasn’t too happy that we were dating and made it a point to talk about her father in front of me.

  Cierra, my daughter, seemed to like them—at first. She was an only child, so she always made sure she played with the other kids when they were around.

  Cierra and I had a solid bond. From the time her mom and I separated, I always tried to make it a point to stay close with her. We’d go site seeing, hiking, daddy and daughter dates, movies, festivals, and play around on the video game. I always made sure that Cierra knew I loved her and that she could come and talk to me about anything. Every time my daughter came to visit, I’d make sure that I spent time with her alone and I also made time for us all to be together.

  She tried to fit in with Tracy’s kids, but I told her she didn’t have to try so hard. Instead, she should just be herself and give them a chance to get to know her. She heeded my advice and, soon after, everyone started getting along better. Things seemed to be on the up and up and I was happy.

  Besides, sex with Tracy was amazing. She was like the energizer bunny, she just kept on going and going and she could really work it when she wanted to. Some days I would have to really lay it down so that she would let me chill for the rest of the night. If not, we’d be at it again and again.

  “I have something to tell you,” Tracy said one day after we finished having sex.

  “What’s up, did something happen?” I asked.

  “No…nothing like that. I just want you to know that you are the only one I’ve been with since we started talking and I trust that you’ve been faithful to me as well, right?”

  “Mmm hmm,” I hoped that she really was starting to trust me.

  “Well, I think we are at a place where we don’t need to use protection. The latex irritates me because I’m allergic to it. That’s why I always shower or clean myself really good after sex.” She explained.

  “I’m not ready for more kids, right now,” I explained. I knew I wanted more kids at some time in t
he future, but I wasn’t sure if she was the one that I wanted to have more kids with.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I already started taking birth control.”

  “Okay cool,” I responded then I gave her a second round of loving. That time without a condom.

  A few months later, Tracy was pregnant.

  “Damn. Didn’t you say you were on birth control?” I asked.

  “Well I was, but I had to take some antibiotics for that cold I had last month. It must have lowered the birth control’s effectiveness.”

  I didn’t know how to take the news. I wanted to take things slow with Tracy and really get to know her. The military had scheduled me to move to a different military base soon, too.

  “You know, I’m expecting orders soon and will have to relocate to a new duty station.”

  “Ethan, I’m not moving with you anywhere unless we are married. I don’t plan on raising a child—your child—alone. Either we get married or we will have to figure something out with the courts,” she responded.

  I wasn’t sure how to take her statement. I thought about it for a few days and then decided to seek some advice. I called my mom, Naomi, and told her my predicament.

  Naomi and I have always been close. She was raised in the church and was still a faithful member of the church that she grew up in. She did an awesome job raising me and my two brothers—Quentin’s two years older than I and Ricky’s two years younger.

  Throughout my life, she had always kept things real with me. I looked to her to get the truth even when it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. She was wise, caring, and smart. I went to her often for advice, especially when it was about a woman. When I was going through it with Deidra, she was always there to listen. I needed a woman’s point of view and she was great at explaining the intricate and sophisticated workings of a woman’s mind in a way that helped me understand. Her advice had always been unbiased and honest. I needed that.