200 Letters Read online

  I walked up to the house and rang the doorbell. Jordan answered the door, bright eyed and excited.

  “Hey, Mommy Angela, look,” he positioned himself next to me, stood straight, and extended his neck upward, “I’m as tall as you, now.”

  “Ha, you’ve got to grow a few more inches there, Bud, but you’re getting close.” It was crazy to watch them grow. When I first met them, they were seven-years-old and innocently running around wild and free.

  Jordan was only a few inches shy of my height. Jasmine was about six inches shorter, but she was developing hips and breasts; it was all just too much for me.

  “Where’s your mom?” I asked.

  “She’s upstairs, fighting with Jasmine. You know how that goes,” Jordan rolled his eyes.

  “You are not wearing that make up. Take it off, girl. Now. I will pluck them eyeballs out your head if I see you roll them at me one more time,” Erica yelled as she walked down the stairs.

  “Hey, Angela. Girl, your daughter’s driving me crazy,” she shook her head and greeted me with a hug. “How you doing?”

  “I’m alright, you know. Just hanging in there,” I replied. “Hey, can we talk?”

  “Sure. What’s up?” she asked as we walked to the kitchen, “Want some coffee?”

  “Oh, no thanks.”

  “I’ve gotta work tonight. Can you believe it? My first night away from the kids and they calling me in to work.” Erica worked as a night nurse. She struggled hard, working a full-time job with two kids at home. She’d also gone to night school for years and finally finished nursing school in 2016. I was her biggest cheerleader at her graduation. I’d always admired how dedicated she was to achieving her goals.

  “So, Erica, I found a letter from child support saying that Terrell is fourteen thousand dollars in arrears. Have you been getting any money from him?”

  Erica slowed down as she attentively listened to me. She walked over to the counter with her coffee and sat next to me. “No, I haven’t gotten anything from Terrell in well over a year.”

  “What?! Why didn’t you tell me?” I was hurt that she hadn’t said anything to me about it. We talked about everything. We’d talk about how the kids drove us crazy, how whoever she was dating drove her crazy, about how our jobs were driving us crazy; but she had not mentioned this.

  “Well, when Terrell lost his job, I just figured you guys weren’t giving any more support. Why you think I’ve been picking up some extra shifts?” she said.

  I felt nauseated.

  “Erica, I have been giving Terrell two thousand a month since he quit his job. Half that money was supposed to go to you.”

  “Seriously?” Erica was surprisingly calm. “Well, I don’t know what he did with all that money, but I haven’t seen a penny.”

  I was pissed and knew Erica could tell. She looked worried, but I smiled and said, “Girl, I’m sorry. From now on, I’ll be handing the money directly to you.” I reached in my purse and grabbed my checkbook.

  “Girl, don’t worry about it right now. We will talk about it later.” Erica tilted her head in the twins’ direction who were standing by the door with their bags packed.

  On the way home, Jordan and Jasmine were chatterboxes. They took turns telling me about their day, their school, what Erica would or would not let them do, what friend did what to whom, what girl Jordan liked, etc. But all I could do was say a few “Uh huhs,” “Okays,” and the occasional “That’s nice” because my thoughts were so fixated on how Terrell had betrayed me.

  I was shocked and angry. All that time, all those holidays, all those events that I asked Terrell to help financially or give me a gift and he always said, “I don’t have any money.” Well, what happened to it? What did he do with it?

  The next day, while Terrell was cooking breakfast, I confronted him. I slapped the letter down next to him and stepped back with my arms folded. He stopped, picked up the letter, and shrugged, “That’s a mistake.”

  “It’s not a mistake,” I slammed my hand on the counter. “I confirmed it with DCSE and with Erica. Terrell, I’ve been giving you two thousand dollars a month. Half is supposed to be for child support. What happened to all that money? Where did it go?”

  “It’s GONE!” he yelled and then stomped into to the basement, slamming the door behind him.

  I followed him downstairs. “Gone? Gone?! Twenty-eight thousand dollars does not disappear! What happened to it?”

  “I told you, it’s gone! I don’t know what else you want me to say. It’s gone.”

  “I…I…I want a divorce. I’m done!” I was so angry I was crying.

  I’d told Terrell I wanted a divorce several times before. Usually, I’d say it just to end a fight. Terrell tended to keep a fight going until he became afraid of losing me; then he’d start begging and crying to work it out. I told him I wanted a divorce so often that it stopped becoming effective at stopping fights.

  But that time, I didn’t say it merely to stop the fight; I really wanted a divorce. I had wanted one for a long time but held onto my faith, hoping God would heal our marriage. I was tired of bending over backward, trying to keep Terrell happy and the house peaceful. I had gone out of my way and taken on more than my fair share of the responsibilities in an attempt to save the marriage. I kept quiet, hid my own opinions, and abided by Terrell’s stupid rules, even when I didn’t agree with them. And I was tired, hurt, and angry.

  “What about Thanksgiving? We are supposed to be going to my mom’s next week for Thanksgiving,” he asked.

  “No, the kids and I are going to your mom’s for Thanksgiving. If you go, it will not be as my husband. We will be going as two single people.” I walked stiffly and slowly upstairs. Terrell didn’t try to stop me, he just sat in the basement staring impassively at the television.

  I called Ronda.

  “Gone, what does he mean gone?” Ronda demanded. She was just as upset as I was.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. I was massaging my temples while I explained what happened.

  “I think he’s stashing it somewhere. Or drugs, it could be drugs.”

  “Ronda, there’s not that much weed on the planet. I think some is going to drugs, and he may be doing more than weed. Who knows? Maybe he’s gambling. I have no idea. But I am pissed. All those birthdays he didn’t buy me anything and he was pocketing all that money. You know, his car is sitting in the driveway. The tags expired months ago and he refused to get the tags renewed because ‘he had no money’, and all this while he’s been pocketing two thousand a month. Now, it’s gone? All of it? And I been sitting here struggling trying to make ends meet. He watches me struggle. I haven’t had my hair or nails done in almost a year ’cause everything I make goes to him or the kids. And he couldn’t even pay child support with the money I gave him? What kind of man does that?” I rambled.

  “He ain’t a man. He’s the worst.”

  “I know, girl,” I sighed and shook my head. “Hey, let me call you back. I gotta go tend to the kiddos.”

  “Okay, girl. Love you. Keep your head up.”

  Me and the kids had fun the rest of the day. Jordan and David usually liked to stay in David’s room playing video games. Abigail and Aaron were usually somewhere nearby, asking for food, watching TV, or playing on my phone. And Jasmine usually bounced back and forth between them. But I always made sure to set aside time and make everyone turn off the electronics to have mandatory family fun time. During that time, we’d do something together—either have a dance competition, exercise, play a board game, or go out somewhere. That weekend we decided to play a game of Bible charades. One of us picked a story in the Bible and acted it out while the others had to guess. We had a lot of fun.

  Sunday morning, I woke up at seven. The kids were all still asleep. Sunday mornings were the best. They were peaceful and quiet. Lana and I went downstairs. I made some coffee and started watching an old sermon on the internet. I sipped my coffee in peace
. Then, like most Sundays, I created chaos by waking up five kids and orchestrated getting them ready for church. I pulled out the cereal and the milk and let them chow down. While they ate, I asked Terrell if he wanted to go. He did not and I didn’t care. I used to really pressure him to attend church with me. I figured, if he listened to the word enough then it would change him for the better. We even did marriage counseling with the pastor and his wife. It helped for a few weeks, then he went right back to terrorizing me. And it got harder to convince him to go to church. Just trying led to arguments. I stopped pressuring him to have some measure of peace.

  I made my way back upstairs, took a quick shower, got dressed, and ushered the kids out the door. Terrell rushed up stairs and out the door with me. He looked good. He was showered, dressed in his Sunday best, and clean shaven.

  “What? I thought you weren’t going,” I remarked.

  “I changed my mind,” he said and kissed me on the cheek. He took the keys from me, “I’m driving.” I looked at him like “who are you and what did you do with my husband”?

  I loved my church. It was a small congregation but the people were friendly and real. They’d greet you with hugs and smiles. They knew your name, your family, and they genuinely cared for you and prayed for you. And my pastor, he was on fire. He could take any scripture, dissect it, and school you on the anatomy of the entire text. And he did it in a way applicable to real life. I got revelation and understanding every Sunday. That day was no different.

  “Turn with us to 2 Peter 2:22. When you get it say Amen,” Pastor Lenard’s deep stern voice filled the room. A scripture with a lot of twos. Two is the number of confirmations. I knew this was going to be good.

  “Mom, can I use your phone?” Abigail asked. Unfortunately, our church did not have children’s services, so the kids got easily bored. To keep them occupied, I’d let them play games on my phone. But Aaron was already using my phone and David was using his own.

  “Ask dad for his.”

  “Huh?” Abigail sighed and shot me a look, indicating she really did not want to talk to her father.

  “Here, Abby,” Terrell had his old phone in his pocket and gave it to Abigail to use. She entered the password and happily started playing her games.

  “‘Of them,’ Pastor read, ‘the proverbs are true: A dog returns to its vomit, and a sow that is washed returns to her wallowing in the mud.’ The topic of today’s sermon is dogs and pigs.” I listened attentively as Pastor explained that dogs refer to people who are liars, manipulators, and who will lead you astray only to attack you. And pigs are selfish people. They will do what they want at any cost to get what they desire: sex, money, power, or respect. And that, even though we pray and we fast for these people, it seems like they never can get right. God answers our prayers. God talks to them, enlightens them, teaches them, gives them a way out, forgives them, cleans them, and delivers them. But right after God does all these miracles in their life, they go right back to doing the same evil deeds like a dog going back to its own vomit. The dog was cleansed of the poison when he vomited but, because he likes that poison, he goes right back to it and laps it up. Pastor used his cousin, a drug addict, as an example. His cousin steals, lies, and manipulates just to get a high. The whole family has been praying for this cousin and trying to intervene. He has been in and out of rehab dozens of times but, never fail, as soon as he is out of rehab, he is back on the street corner searching for another fix. It’s not that our prayers are not answered. It’s just that these dogs and pigs choose living a destructive life. I looked over at Terrell. He was attentively listening, as well. He was nodding his head in agreement and shouting “Amen!” when Pastor Lenard would make a shouting point. I wondered if he was getting it. I hoped he was getting it.

  The next few days went by smoothly. Terrell was cordial. He actually greeted me when I came home from work, but he still kept to himself in the basement—which was fine by me. I was hurt that our marriage sucked.

  The kids and I had been packing for our trip to Janice and Ernesto’s house. I felt bad about what I said to Terrell, so I went and talked to him.

  “Terrell, you know it’s okay if you go with us to your mom’s.”

  “No, I’m all right.”

  “So, you’re going to spend Thanksgiving here, alone?”

  “Yes, that’s the plan. Besides, I got Lana.”

  “Okay,” I said, and I continued packing. The house was a complete mess. With five kids, it can get messy pretty easily. The dishes were piled up in the sink and there were toys all over the living room. “Well, can you please clean up while we are gone?”

  “Sure thing,” he responded and flashed a fake looking smile.

  I made it to Janice and Ernesto’s house in six hours. God talked to me the entire ride. “You’ve been asking me what Terrell is really like, what’s really in Terrell’s heart. When you go home, you will see what his heart is really like by the condition your house is in. You keep asking what you should do. I am about to reveal all to you.” Over and over God spoke. Now, when God speaks it is not an audible voice, like the way one person speaks to another. His voice skips you ears and goes straight to your heart. But you have to be careful—the devil and your flesh can speak to you the same way. I learned to pray when I hear that voice. I prayed all the time to only hear God’s voice. To be one of his sheep and to discern God from other entities. It was God speaking to me that day. He was loud and clear.

  “Hey y’all,” Janice greeted us as we piled out of my SUV. She gave us all hugs and kisses. Ernesto was close behind. “Hey, how was the drive?” he asked as he helped me with the bags.

  “Oh, it was good,” I said.

  “Yeah, you guys made good time,” said Janice. “Y’all hungry? I’ve got hot dogs in the oven.”

  “Ooooh, me, me, me,” my kids all sang as they followed behind Grandma Janice.

  Ernesto and I took our time.

  “You okay, Angela?”

  “Yeah, yeah, just tired.”

  “How’s my son treating you?”

  “Mmm, you know.”

  Ernesto shook his head in response. Ernesto and Terrell had a strained relationship. You could tell they loved each other but Ernesto had been a strong disciplinarian. Terrell resented him for it. He blamed his parents and the hardships of his youth for his mood swings.

  Wednesday night was nice and relaxing. The kids filled up on hot dogs and we all sat in the living room watching old kung fu flicks. Ernesto loved those movies and I loved watching them with the family.

  Thanksgiving morning, Janice and I were up early to put the finishing touches on all the food she had prepared throughout the week. Little by little, Terrell’s family poured into the house. His cousins, aunts, uncles, and his grandmother were all thrilled to see all five of our kids together; and to see me, too. I got numerous hugs, kisses, smiles, and salutations. You could always feel the love at the Neves’s House. They all of course asked, “Where’s Terrell?” Janice would interject and say, “He wanted to be a party pooper, so he’s not here.”

  The food was delicious and served early. Conversations were carefree and lasted until late. Half the conversation was in Kriolu and the other half in English. I didn’t mind. The kids and I always tried to learn a few words while were with them. It was just the break I needed. And through all the food prep, eating, and talking, I kept hearing God’s voice. “Angela, I want you to leave at five in the morning on Sunday to get back home. The condition of your house when you walk through the door is the condition of Terrell’s heart.”

  On Black Friday, we debated about hitting up the sales and decided to wait until the evening and see what was left over from the morning’s chaos. There were still a lot of good deals and the crowd had really settled down by the time we got there, so shopping was easy. The kids were with us trying to convince grandma to buy them a random item or two, and Grandma was doing a great job of spoiling them. My phone rang. I thought it
would be Terrell because we hadn’t talked since I left. He did not call to make sure the kids and I had gotten to our destination safely. He did not call to wish us or his family a happy Thanksgiving. I was a little disappointed that he hadn’t called yet; but I was enjoying myself, so I didn’t dwell on it.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hello, may I speak to Dr. Angela Neves?”

  “Yes, this is she.” The kids were loudly begging grandma in the background, so I walked away from them and into a quieter aisle.

  “This is Mrs. Chimes from the Virginia Beach Naval Medical Clinic. I was just calling to inform you that you were selected for the job. Congratulations!”

  “Oh, the job.” I did not sound thrilled at all. I was mainly shocked. First of all, it was Black Friday…what kind of human resources employee works on Black Friday? Secondly, I applied to the job months ago and hadn’t given it a thought since. Third, I was going through a very trying time in my life and marriage. I didn’t want to take the job and have Terrell move with us. After all, it was his wanting to move there that drove me to fill out the application. Yes, I would be closer to the Neves family, but it would put me farther away from my friends and family. What would I do when he started abusing me again and I was four hours away from my support system instead of one?

  “Hello, ma’am?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry. Yes. The job.” I didn’t know what to say. “Wow, this is a surprise. Thank you. Umm, I’m out Black Friday shopping with my family. Can I, uh…can I get back to you on like Monday or Tuesday. Thanks, though. Thank you. That’s good news.” I was rambling.

  “Oh, um; yes, of course.”

  I hung up the phone and caught up to Janice and the kids.

  “You okay?” Janice asked.

  “Yeah…um…I’m okay. I just got offered a job in Virginia Beach, but I know I can’t move anywhere with Terrell.”

  “Really, Virginia Beach? That’s awesome. That’s closer to us. If Terrell can’t get right, leave him and you and the kids move down there. We can help you. I mean, I’m not saying you have to get a divorce; but maybe, if you just separate for a while, that could work.”