Warning...(BIG)

 

Get Into it

“He’s not one dimensional..” , she stated with a smile and then a dark look passed over her face.

I tried to get her to continue, as I loved gathering information during her stories : When they were a happy couple ; she would tell me all about them , the places they went and how much she loved him. However, when things changed and became ‘less happy’, she told me about that as well. Of course I was there to comfort her then, as I was now.

“Ryndra, tell me more about this…’great love’ thing… “

She just looked away, so I continued my attempt at convincing her:

“c’mon, you cant start something like that and not finish. That’s unfair !

Do I do that to you? When you ask me about Noella or any of my ex chicks, I always answer honestly…”

“Well he’s no Noella, as hes not an ex anything to me so…I just don’t feel comfortable. Should I talk about you, your mother, your apartment and the things we do together -with him? How would you feel about that?"

   There was a long pause, before she looked away from me while  un-muting the television, “Talk about something else.”

   There was nothing to talk about really. Nothing I wanted to talk about. I wanted to hear about him. I wanted to know what he had that I didn’t, so I could get what I wanted -her love. I mean, I made love to her-and all that, but she was ‘fucking ‘ me...

   At almost fifty , though I didn’t look a day over 35 , I knew the difference. I am entirely disinterested  in being fucked by a woman who doesn’t love me back. Especially not one so young. It was weird, and I wanted her to myself. As long as she loved him-that couldn’t happen so..

   Since I started sleeping with her, that had been the challenge. At this point , almost two years in, I was sure she had love for me-but, not sure that she loved me more than him. He hadn’t spoken to her in about a year -or so, and I knew she was still very much in love with him. She refused to talk to me about him; not about him in the past or even about the things he was doing in the present. I tried to goad her with his Instagram posts; he was always coming at her sideways. 

   However, I could never really get her good and riled up because, to my knowledge she refused to look at any of his social media. None of it. Not even the covert misogynistic Facebook pages and accounts she wasn’t aware of- as his girlfriend. I wanted her to get a glimpse at who he really was, so maybe she would turn a soft eye to me. After all, I had never lied about who I was . She was just disloyal to me, and I didn’t expect it.

   I didn’t beat her up because I didn’t love her. Quite the contrary, I did it to teach her something. If I didn’t love her, I would have killed her…I never would have let her escape to the street to call ‘5.0’. ‘ It's true that I didnt expect her to ...I didn’t expect her to fly out the door like te way she did , that evening…she moved really quickly for someone who claimed they were once unable to walk”, I thought , as the counselor finally dismissed us and pointed to a stack of papers by the door, representing a certificate for each of the abusers in  of attendance, for the day. I jumped up and scanned the papers , grabbing the one that said my name before rushing out of the door.

    Ryndra’s plane would land at JFK in three hours , and I needed to be there to meet her. She hadn’t told me about this trip to see her grandmother , until the very last minute. At that point , there wasn’t much I could do to stop her,; unless I was going to physically injure her to keep her home. Considering all that she had been suffering lately, with her illness, I wasn’t heartless enough to do that. She had been turning so pale lately , and after losing 20 pounds off her 131 lb frame, I figured the sun, home cooked food, family and attention should do her some good.

   At the time, I  figured , I could let her enjoy the last of her solo vacations …’What harm could it do to let her see her grandmother, they couldn’t be THAT close, as they hadn’t laid eyes on one another in over ten years… ‘ However, this bitch , bitches in fact (and I hate to call older women bitches -with my mother being an older woman and all) blindsided me with this trip. When I found That letter, from THAT old woman telling 'my woman' to come to Cuba -I was livid. 'Fucking Cuba? '

    And the fact that Rybdra fell in line, almost immediately. That ink wasn’t dry on that looseleaf paper her grandmother wrote to her on, before she booked a flight. She didn’t even do me the courtesy of asking me if I was interested in going. She never offers to introduce me to her family, but I thought we had evolved..Considering this was someone who didnt even talk to her mother, I thought this would be a prime opportunity , for her, to make me feel familial. We were going to be family soon enough, if I had my way with thing...

In any event, I didn’t even know Americans could travel to Cuba freely, but my woman was over there…I hadn’t been able to find my passport , since a few days before she and I were suppose to head to Mexico together. ‘I swear I remember it being at her house -on the dresser or by the bedside’, I thought. I remember thinking that she may have hidden it, specifically to keep us from going on that international vacation. However, I knew , just as did she , that I didn’t need to 'get her' in another country …I could ‘get her’ right here in America. Shit , I could get other people to ‘get her’, or that silly African man she was, all of a sudden, closed lipped about .’nah… she wouldn’t dare move it or play games . Im sure it’s in my house somewhere…’, I thought .

 I made a promise to myself that I would look around for it when I got a chance to get home. When I could trust Ryndra enough not to watch over her all the time.

   As I hopped in the zipcar, I had rented earlier, anticipating this drive to air port to surprise Ryndra, my phone went off. I was in a rush, so I wasn’t going to check it. I figured , it was probably an actor that wanted me to do their reel or head shots. ‘That could wait for an answer’, I thought, putting the car in drive. ‘on second thought ‘, I thought, having second thoughts… I picked up the phone and checked the screen. It was a text alert from American Airlines, the carrier operating Ryndra’s flight from Miami to NYC.

   Apparently, the flight had changed its destination to EWR, in Newark, NJ. “Shit, if I hadn’t checked the phone, I would have been the only one surprised at the airport-and who knows how long it would be before I saw her again. She had been giving me the slip more and more lately. Too often for it to be circumstance. She was either sick, at her mothers, at her new job (address unknown0 , doing something for her brother , spending some time to herself or one of any litany of excuses not to spend time with me. That’s what they all seemed like to me.

   However, whatever she was doing in Cuba, I had been doing twofold in Brooklyn and Harlem. She wasn’t going to be able to duck and hide from me -at will-any longer.

   From today forward, she was going to be under my care-even if it meant quitting her new ,mysterious, job, spending less time with her family…’Shit, if anything , doing things my way will take a whole heap of pressure off of her ; she’ll probably get sick less often” . All of the emergency room visits were annoying me .

  One time , those doctors asked her:

“do you feel unsafe at home ? Is anyone threatening you or hurting you?”

We had had a heated argument earlier, and I punched a hole in her wall , but only to emphasize a point. All of my homeboys understood, they were older men, like me; I figured her lack of clarity was a result of her immaturity. She devolved into a crying fit and there was nothing I could do, when she started breathing shallowly and turning colors ,BUT take her to the Emergency Room.

   I thought she was going to get all dramatic with the physicians and point me out, but she didn’t . “No, I am fine. I am just not feeling so great. I think I have a fever”, She had said, while I bored holes into the back of her neck with my eyes.

One of the nurses saw me staring a little intensely, I guess, and asked Ryndra if  she needed privacy to answer the questions. She knew better than to say yes. So, we were ushered into the back part of the the ER for an examination. They changed her medications, added more steroids to her daily Regimen, for the third time in six months.

   Originally, I thought she was faking. You know, trying to get out of any real discussion . Honestly, while I felt badly, watching her struggle to breathe, it was comforting to know that she needed me in this way. Especially with Chimeze gone. 

Who else was going to clean her sheets -when she threw up, help her open her medication bottles (Child proof: Ryndra Proof), rub her back to help her forget her pain and sleep through the night , help her switch from her sweat soaked pajamas to dry clean ones , get her groceries and help her up and down those six flights of stairs. Facts I often reminded her of ... when her mouth got too slick.It seemed her mouth was getting slick, more often...

   Sometimes that hoe would call me a ‘good for nothing felon with a talented penis”, and I wasn’t having it. I had to remind her of how much else she would lose, besides a talented dick, should I abandon her . ‘ungrateful bitch’, she was too dependent on the things I did for her to talk the way she did. I was wrong for hitting her, I mean I knew that.  If I was going to hurt her , the way I did, I should have just killed her so…I wouldn’t have to do this domestic violence class shit or go to court once a month-to check in , like a common criminal. I'm no common criminal...I am just dedicated to her. Too dedicated to not passionately defend what I am and also what I am not.

   She should be grateful that I didn’t finish her off. A lessor man would have . I remember telling her to leave Chimeze alone and focus on me. I felt badly telling her that, but it needed to be said:

“How can he continue to be your boyfriend , when I want to be your boyfriend? The answer is , he can’t”, I snarled at her-through the phone.  I remember the moment I saw her run after his car in the snow. What the fuck was that about? 

“Stop trying to get him back Ryndra…stop it! If I see his car parked outside of your house, I will smash his windows. I will get my homies to fuck him up every time I see him leave your house. I told you, enough is enough. I am done being nice about it. Be smart. Its not like you have the capacity to move anywhere else. If you could, you’d be gone…but you aren’t, are you? Furthermore, when I attempted to kick down your door-it took the cops 2 hours to arrive. I watched them from across the street. They cant protect you. If I wanted to hurt you, they wouldn’t have stopped me….not with that response time Ryndra. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. Don’t be silly...”

   Since that conversation, she seemed to be going along with that part of what I had told her .  A year ago, and even more recently , I found her to be  deviating from what I wanted her to do in unacceptable ways, and she needed to stop. As far as I was concerned, I earned her, when I did those 8 hard days in jail. I earned even more of her every time I went to those ridiculous ‘waste of time and energy’ domestic violence classes. 

   If anything they made me want to fuck her up even more. During the sessions, I had to remind myself how much I loved her. These reminders were all that stood between her and my fist.  As I said before , ‘she should be grateful’ that I was so merciful and willing to give her  gentle direction. I wanted us to work and she needed to accept it or be alone , as she already knew I wasn’t going to allow her to date anyone else…

    She tried that already, with this one doctor fellow, Theo. He had a PhD in microbiology or something. That’s what I read in her journal-she writes everything in there. She thought she had hidden him from me and that they were going to ‘go on’ romantically. ha.. I don’t understand this generation, you cant hide someone you are taking pictures on Instagram with.

    In any event, she and I had an honest conversation, where I had to leave some indentations on her upper thigh, but I enhanced that physical act by making sure to take up all of her time-so there would be none for him..and that was that for Theo.. I know I shouldn’t hit her, but violence seems to be all that she respects…

   Usually, I give her a few hundred dollars in the days after my transgression. That seems to calm her down. ‘shit, if it wasn’t for my money-there would be no trip to Cuba , to see grandma…and how many ER/ doctor visit  co-pays would go unpaid to fuck up her credit if I didn't slide her those Benjamins'.

   Whether she was willing to admit it or not, she needed me…and the sicker she got, the more she would need me.She needed my money , my presents and my presence. “she had better start showing some appreciation for all this shit I do’, I thought -as I signaled , making an illegal 'U-turn' into the lane going the opposite direction- starting my journey to the Newark Airport -to get my girl.

 MOOD