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| Get Into it |
"How have you been,"
Gerald asked, turning the corner and positioning himself against the corner
building - across from Riverside Park. I walked around him, and
positioned myself next to him, in the place furthest from the street, just in
case he decided to try to push me in front of a car or something. I
wasn’t going to be a fool and set myself up for that idea to take shape and be
successful. 'No way!' , I thought as I watched him stare into the traffic, darting
his eyes from the car to the park, wondering what I ever saw in him. Wait, I remembered now, it was his skillful sexual acrobatics routine and the calm manner he displayed.
While waiting on him to say
something else, I kept thinking about how Chimeze had been trying really hard
with me. I think he knew that I needed him now and was spending the night
with me in my, smallest of the small, room in the rooming house. He
seemed to understand that I was having a hard time getting use to my new
surroundings, but he was right by my side: using the shared bathroom, finding
new places to eat, and letting me use my microwave cookery to craft meals for
him. He rubbed my back, when I got really depressed about not being where
I wanted to be and told me that if I moved to a new state, he would loyally visit
me - be it, my new place, at the ends of the earth.
"However, I really wish you
would stay here," he said, indicating the rooming house, the last time I
mentioned the thought of fleeing New York State. I was so depressed
sometimes that I couldn’t bring myself to walk out of my room, shower or do
anything; so he would bring me bubble tea, kisses, and hop in the bed and
cuddle with me until I felt ashamed of myself for being so depressed, when I
was so blessed to have someone in my life who dared to care so much, about
silly me. I felt like we were relearning each other, and I was working on
letting go of our past issues. If he could hit that final level and make
me feel sexually desired by him, I would continue to do my part to make sure he
never left.
I
had also just applied for a new apartment and, with things looking up for me, I
couldn’t even connect to that person that I use to be; the abortion scam or the
person who sent "proof" of Gerald’s infidelity to his girlfriend.
I really didn’t care about Gerald at all anymore, I had just felt so free
over the past few weeks, so unburdened and ready to genuinely try to be
someone’s something. I had a list of recipes that I was ready to try out
and bake for Chimeze, cute underwear - that I knew he would like and if I
didn’t get the new place, I had a plan. I had our names on this list, for
the park across the way, for 'couples swim'; it was a swimming class for
couples: where one person didn’t know how to swim. Prior to getting sick,
I worked as a lifeguard, and I loved to swim and I wanted him to know how
to do everything I did - so we could get in water and I wouldn’t have to worry
about watching him like a lifeguard.
"I’ve been cool," I
replied guardedly to Gerald. "How’s Chimeze doing," he immediately
fired back at me. "I wouldn’t know, we don’t talk anymore. He
left me," I lied, without skipping a beat. I don’t know how he had
found my living situation, but I wasn’t going to volunteer any additional
information to him. I figured the less he knew about me, the better,
especially considering all the water under our bridge; water that had the
capacity to turn into a tidal wave and destroy everything I had created this
past month. It was a lot easier to deal with him, now that we had some distance
and were no longer sexually involved. Chimeze seemed to have have been
right about all of the sexual gymnastics and taboo bedroom antics that turned
me out and made me unreasonable. "Oh…so is that why you did
everything you could to turn Odella against me, because Chimeze left you,"
he asked rhetorically. I struggled not to answer. Instead, I answered, "I don't
know what you're talking about," in as innocent a voice as
anyone could muster.
In a burst of anger he continued. "So maybe it was
Chimeze who sent the package with all of the interesting pictures of you and I
to Odella’s. Her daughter opened the package, you know," he
continued, staring into my eyes to see if he could find untruth in them. "Chimeze wouldn’t ever do that.
It’s not his style. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt someone
like that," I protested, as he inched closer.
"Whatever Ryndra, you barely
know him; remember when he was posting up on social media trying to agitate you
because he knew that you had chosen me over him - despite my relationship status?
Do you remember the shit he said about you; a bunch of untruths designed
to draw mental blood from you?! He has the style of a bitch; and a bitch
sent that package to Odella. Understand that when I catch up with his
bitch ass, he’s gonna wish he learned how to 'stay' and 'heel.' I already
have his address, I took it from your phone when were together…". He looked around, taking in his
surroundings militarily, "Yeah… I just wanted to let you know. So
you won’t be surprised when his ass is unavailable to chauffeur your ass to and
fro'."
I
hated when he would minimize Chimeze and I’s relationship the way he did.
He certainly knew I loved Chimeze, more than maybe even Chimeze knew.
Also, he knew I wasn’t going to use anyone for chauffeur services, but I
didn’t have anything to prove to him - except one thing:
"Chimeze didn’t send the
pictures to your girlfriend," I sighed in frustration.
"Fuck do you know what he did
or didn’t do…Like I said, y'all aren’t even together and you don’t know him
like –"
"I know he didn't send those
pictures because I sent those pictures. It was me."
"I figured that the money
wouldn’t be enough for you. When I gave you the five grand, I knew that
wouldn’t be the end of this, no matter how much I hoped it would sate your appetite
for revenge. And I know an abortion doesn’t cost that much, not
even for someone with whatever it is that ails your ass. However, I
charged it to the game, because… Odella was cool. We could've had a
decent life together. I didn’t love her, but her ass sure loved me.
Her ass still loves me, but your ass just wants it all…"
"I don’t want anything, not any
-" That’s all I got out before he stepped in front of me, blocking
the Upper West Side world's view from me. "Fuck what you want,
Ryndra. I gave you five grand and you couldn’t be cool, so now I own your
ass until I say that I don’t…"
He stepped back. "With
Chimeze gone, this shouldn’t be a problem. I know you, I know what you
like… It wont always be easy, but you like it rough sometimes," he
growled, grabbing on my ass. "So now it’s gonna be rough."
Chimeze was not going to be happy
about any of this. I knew it, and I think Gerald knew that I was still
very much in love with and seeing Chimeze. I wasn’t confirming anything,
and I figured it would all work itself out when I completed my moving process;
I would be in a totally different part of town, one even less convenient for
him to reach, should he ever find it. I counted down the days in my head,
as he licked behind my ear and fondled my breasts, sending dirty shivers up my
spine as I sensed he was all the "dirty old-ass man" that Chimeze
would describe him as, whenever he came up in conversation. I wanted to just give him his
money back, but knew he wouldn’t accept it’s return, he would tax me at a
rate I knew I couldn’t afford. So, I just took a deep breath and did my
best to hide my emotions, I was confident that I would be out of the rooming
house and in a new place within a month, and I was quite sure that I could
handle him without giving in a sexual inch, at least for the next thirty days.
"Listen, Gerald, I need you to cease and desist with this PDA mess.
My building doesn’t allow company and this neighborhood is not that type
of neighborhood," I said, sliding under his arm and far away enough from
the building that he couldn’t pin me in. "Listen, my mother is
scheduled to be stopping by to pick me up shortly. That’s why I came
downstairs to the lobby - to wait for her. She should be here any minute,
and I know you don’t want to run into her," I light-weight threatened.
"Wait,
you think I am scared of your old-ass mom," he screamed on incredulously.
"I'm not
scared of her," he said, while wildly scanning the cross-streets for the
gold Lexus, I’m sure he knew she drove.
After
a few minutes of postured silence, he straightened his clothes and turned to
me. "I have a job that I have to get ready for, so I’m gonna let you
know what's gonna happen now, so there are no excuses or misunderstandings.
As it is in your, and Chimeze’s, best interest, that you follow my
directions, Ryndra… every... single... one… to the letter. Fuck it up,
and I will fuck something of your boyfriend's up."
"Lying-ass, I know you're
lying, Ryndra," he whispered menacingly, in my ear. "Guess how
I know," he continued, trying to bait me. "I’ve known where you
lived for over a week. I know this is when you usually come out of your
room, and go shopping, before your ‘Chauffeur of a boyfriend’ picks you up and
takes you to do whatever. I know it isn’t sex, though. I know
that," he said with a laugh. "It’s funny, I have that nigga
stored in my phone as 'Ryndra’s Chauffeur Chimeze’ - I’m not even lying.
That’s what that nigga is - for you, and probably for all those homegirls
that he WILL NEVER, EVER get rid of. He’s shown you that, but, whatever.
Just know that I have no problem busting his tires, his windows and his
fucking face, if
you don’t do what the fuck I say from now on… I want you to come over to my
house this Saturday, and you are staying until
Sunday. I want you to make dinner, so send me some options to choose
from. We are going to eat, watch a movie and reacquaint ourselves with
one another…"
I looked around, bored. My
mom had seen him when she picked me up from his apartment, after he
unceremoniously booted me out to prove a point to Odella. I knew he
didn’t want any type of anything with my momma. But he knew I probably hadn’t
told her about the money that I greased from him, and probably didn’t want to
have to do so, so he silently held that information. All hell would break
lose if he divulged that to my mother. It was clear that he wasn’t
leaving me alone until he was good and ready.
That was the beginning of his ransom
list, and the beginning to the list of lies that I began to tell Chimeze,
to keep him safe. I didn’t have time to block the accusation and
judgement that I knew would come if I opened up about this, and truth be told,
it was all my fault; so why weigh anyone else down with its weight and drama if
not absolutely necessary. 'I can handle this… I can handle him… 30 days
or less, to go - I told myself' as I watched him walk away, holding his camera
in one hand and my peace of mind in the other.
I was right to worry, as thirty-five
days later, Gerald showed up to my new place - with all of my
‘supposed-to-be-forwarded-from-the-post-office mail’ in hand, talking about,
"So, you aren’t gonna let me in? I thought we were cool,
Ryndra…" And, just like that, he knew where I lived and I saw no way
to escape him. For the first time of what eventually became many times.
I seriously worried, and no matter how hard I tried to come up with a
solution, I couldn’t.
***
Back then, just like now, I
wanted Chimeze’s counsel and forgiveness, but I knew he didn’t have any counsel
to offer and probably less forgiveness than counsel. I wanted
forgiveness, but I didn’t need it. I knew I had to soldier this out on my
own if I wanted to be successful. All talking to Chimeze about this would
do is turn my man into my enemy.
He wasn’t, I thought, as I packed my
clothes.
He would go until he couldn’t go
anymore, and that social media warfare wasn’t my game. I am more of a
quiet thinker. A planner even. When something becomes a problem, I do my
research and take the time, however much of it is necessary, to solve the issue
at hand. Thinking about how long it had been since we had last spoken, I
felt sad… but I knew that I was fighting a real life war with Gerald, especially now that I had filed the criminal case against him. If he was
gunning for me before, the heck knew what was coming next. I know I'd be ready to 'fuck something up', if I felt like someone had put me in jail. Considering Gerald's behavior was so extra typical of an abuser, I was sure this was exactly what he was thinking.
I had spoken
to my Grandmother, on my fathers side, about taking some time to visit with
her. We
hadn’t seen each other since I was ten, when she and my mother had a falling
out; which resulted in a truncation of our communication. However, she
always seemed to know what I was doing, how I was doing and managed to maintain
an up to date address for me - in spite of our lack of direct communication. Earlier, in March, I had
received a letter from my step - cousin, Javier. He worked for the local
police force in my Grandmother’s Cuban town of Vinales, while my Grandma had a home between there and Soroa, Cuba-on the Western part of the Island.
He was a smart guy, and we had always had our own connection - as
children. He had written me, in Spanish, indicating that my Grandmother
was concerned about me, and wanted to invite me down for a trip. She
specifically wanted me to visit for the new year: "I have a feeling that
you are going through a lot of interpersonal challenges right now.
Remember that you are my great-great grand-daughter. Mine."
"Hermosa Samoa," I smiled
at her invocation of the nickname she made up for me. "Nothing of
mine would ever let the devil win. Nothing of mine would ever give in to
laze, and allow problems of this world to overtake her. Be strong.
Handle your business, clean your apartment top - to bottom, bless it and
come see me, child. There is a lot of work to be done. Come here
ready. I know you remember me living in, what many would consider a
paradise, but this is not a vacation. Not for you. Arrive on
the 28th of December. I don’t
think I need to tell you to come alone; Javier will be waiting to pick you up
at the airport.”
I was super excited to see my
grandmother. Everyone was always astounded by our strong spiritual
connection. Prior to moving to Cuba, in 1995, she was often sought out as
a talented and cherished high priestess. I was sure she knew about the
drugs and drama I had mixed myself into, as she had proven to be clairvoyant in
the past. 'I hope she wont ask me to stop dealing,' I thought. I
needed every cent of the money I made dealing to handle these student loans,
medical bills and pay for graduate school. Considering my illness, I knew
of no other job that would help me maintain my ability to provide for the
lifestyle I had now created. Don't get me wrong, I respect my family elders
and I love my grandmother. Often it seems like she knows me inside out;
troubled or serene, but I wasn’t going to let her tell me to stop enterprising
with this underground medical industry. I really wasn’t interested in
hearing about any of that. Hopefully she would constrict her concern to
this Gerald issue; I already lost one job behind the threat of Gerald’s
behavior, and I wasn’t in a position - especially not after traveling to Cuba
last minute - to let go of, what was now, my only source of income.
I knew she wouldn’t judge me, but I
also knew she had a vested interest in my success and would consider her word –
the final word. She wouldn’t laugh or joke, but I had better be ready to
do whatever she deemed necessary – to clean up this mess I had made. My
grandmother wasn’t with the bullshit, especially from me. I could only
hope that she wouldn’t tell me to do anything that I reasonably couldn’t.
I remember being five and not
wanting to clean my room or make the bed, one that she had set up for me
specifically during a time I briefly lived with her. My Grandmother, at a
fragile-looking 63, grabbed me firmly by my thin waist, hypnotizing me with a
deep calming stare and said, "I don’t think you're cute, I think you're
capable. I will be back in five minutes, the bed will be made and the
floor will be clutter free." She freed me and walked away.
Five minutes later, it was just as she said it would be. There was
minimal backtalk, and I can never recall arguing with her. It was just
whatever she said it would be. That was that.
It had been too long, and I knew my
grandmother, a well-respected Santeria and Obeah priestess, would give me the
perspective I needed - on Chimeze and whatever spiritual element, in addition
to the physical, was necessary to combat Gerald.
I wasn’t above admitting that this hardship was beyond the physical. It often felt plain old evil, but if it was, grandma would definitely help me take care of it. I clicked on a few links and finalized my pretty hefty, last minute, ticket purchase, and packed a book bag with all of my basics. I didn’t need my expensive camera or anything that would distract, like my iPod. The vibe from Javier in Grandma’s letter stated that I would have very little time to explore or take pictures. I suddenly felt a strange thought come over me, as I zipped up my bag, placed my ticket in the front section, and wheeled it to my closet, by the front door. It would chill there, but in thirty days, I would just grab it and head to the airport at the necessary time. Also, concealing the bag in the closet would stave off unnecessary inquiries from Gerald. He wasn’t coming with me. I didn’t want him with me. Under direct orders from my grandmother he was summarily excluded; ‘God help him should he stalk me to Cuba," I thought as I decided to check on Chimeze via social media.
After our intense
battle earlier in the year, where he blocked me from responding, but not from
seeing his posts, calling me everything but a child of God, I had stopped
looking. I had begun therapy and decided to finally engage the battle to
rid myself of someone who didn’t want to leave - Gerald. I didn’t have
the time or the wherewithal to engage in a social media battle with anyone
intent on breaking me down mentally. Furthermore, I don’t understand
people who think that they can just say whatever or however to a living
breathing person, from behind a computer screen. I had watched Chimeze
bitch, like a bitch, with women he once considered his closest friends -
online. I didn’t find it funny or productive, but I let that be his
business - until he turned his online thuggery on me.
I’m not now, nor
have I ever been about that life. Say what you will online, it is after
all a free country that we are living in, but if it’s not directed (at me), I
don’t respect it. And God forbid you do direct something at me, you
better be willing to stand behind what you said. I was shocked and
appalled that he would lie about me, to people that didn’t even know me.
People with whom he talked to about me, more than he talked to me - about me.
I was just aghast, that this gainfully employed, grown man thought he
could digitally antagonize me, and that I wouldn’t come see about him-in
person. I mean, we had known each other for years - he wasn’t new to me.
He knew my mother, and he had to know she didn’t raise no punk - Gerald
scenario excluded.
Seeing the bitch
in him, made me lose a lot of respect for him.
***
Chimeze worked late nights, at the
time, and usually arrived home in the wee hours of the morning - at least for
me. I didn’t want to cause a scene at his workplace, and figured the best
way to hash this out in a way that would end in him taking down his slanderous
post -where he tagged me and called me a 'gold digger'- would be to quietly
confront him at his house. I could’ve, taken the LIRR and waited for him,
but I knew that if I woke up that early to ride the train, he would only be one
slick word away from me physically attacking him. Luckily a family
friend, on my father’s side, offered to drive me. When Chimeze saw me, he actually
tried to run me over with his car, in an attempt to avoid the confrontation he had started,
like a coward, online. I slipped on the ice trying to get out of the way
of his rental, fell against his bumper and stared at the front wheel barreling
toward my head.
Luckily he stopped, just in time, to keep from making me
a memory. When I got myself together, because he didn’t offer me any
assistance in getting off the ground, he just screamed on me through his
driver’s side window. "Get away from my house, Ryndra!"
I chuckled to myself, as I steadied
myself against his car, as I wasn’t sure what house he could be talking about.
The house I stood in front of was owned by his parents, and not by him.
Walking over to the the driver's side window, which he refused to open,
choosing instead to throw visual daggers - I confronted him through it. I
knew he could hear me:
"So, I’m a gold-digger now,
Chimeze," I asked, using my index finger to point at myself. That got him to roll his window
down slightly. "Well,
you called me a Crying-Ass Negro! I didn’t like that," he mewed -
sounding like a cow giving birth in a youtube video.
"Wait," I directed, taking
a deep breath and mentally preparing for the balance of what was sure to be an
immature scene, "So, did you not cry in the parking lot of the LIRR and
beg me to work with you - when I told you I was done? Are you not
considered a negro? Find the lie, Chimeze! When did I go online and
lie about anything yo' ass did or didn’t do? Tell me," I spat,
staring daggers, at him, through the window.
"Listen, I just want you to
leave my house. I didn’t invite you here. I don’t want to talk to
you," he whined, punching his steering wheel. I then want on, "Listen… I don’t care what you
want. I don’t want posts on social media about me being a gold-digger.
Did you know that that’s slander? You better take it down.
This is me asking nicely. However, riddle me this... Where was I
gold-digging; at the site of the house formally known as 'the house you were
trying to own,' but allowed to get foreclosed instead,' or was it at the
hospital, where I came to collect you from a post car accident? No… maybe
I was digging in your fucked up credit report or even under your twin bed, in
your room, at your parent's house - where you live. And since you like
calling people snakes online, please explain what is more snakish; lying about
someone online or confronting someone in person, over a lie? Don’t worry,
take all the time you need to answer - I’m right here," I spat.
I paced two steps north, before
returning to my original position, in front of his window, by walking back two
steps south.
I was angry: about the fall, the
trip, about my uncle, who had a front row seat, to me showing out on a man who
had never supported or loved me in the way I deserved, and was now attempting
to talk shit about me online. Even so, Chimeze’s next words shocked me:
"Ryndra, I am calling the
police on you," he stated, timidly, as he recited his address to whomever
was on the other end of the phone.
"The police? You're
calling the police on me," I questioned in a low, angry voice.
"What, pray tell, will they arrest me for? Wait, let me guess:
will it be for 'inquiring about online slander?' Please, call them! I
can’t wait to see what they say about this, and I KNOW I’m not doing anything
illegal so, make your bitch-ass move!"
Turns out he had made his
bitch-ass move, calling 911 when I was lying in front of his car. The
“whoop-whoop,” indicating their arrival, which was in under ten minutes, was
due to him telling them that I had a weapon and was threatening his life.
Standing on the sidewalk, clad in yoga pants and a light jacket, the
police could clearly see that I didn’t have a weapon, but that didn’t stop one
of their hot-heads, from vocally flexing on me: "Don’t say anything else
to him," the officer screamed at me from behind his badge.
‘Badge-Flasher, defending lying
Computer thugs, is this what it means to handle business in Queens, NY, I
thought, after explaining myself to a calmer police officer, then heading to my
family friend's car. This scene was unexpected, and the calling of the
authorities threw me for a loop; I would need both hands to count all the times
I assisted Chimeze in avoiding any and all possible confrontations with police.
Particularly since as a young, sometimes Muslim-presenting Black man,
driving a luxury vehicle, he was always a target. I would always jump
back in the car with him, using my presence as a shield against any funny
business. While his behavior totally changed my perspective of him, as a
man, it didn’t change my intention to make him take that post down. I
decided to just go home and make a plan to handle it with the only man that I
still knew to reside in his home - his father. And handle it, his father did.
Within two days of my package, containing a print-out of every single
post mentioning my name negatively, random ranting against domestic violence
victims, or documentation of Chimeze’s destructive behavior (i.e.: breaking
alarm clocks for not working properly), arriving - all of those posts were gone.
***
Now, as I checked his page, for the
first time in months, I slid quickly to the older post. Posts from when I
first met him; posts that seemed to represent the beginning of this aspect of
his social media. I scrolled and scrolled, until I saw a picture of the
second gift he had ever given me; a watch. I remembered how I had admired
it over some meal we shared:
"It’s not very expensive,"
Chimeze had stated. "Well, I just like the way it looks, where did you get
it," I asked him-fully intending to order and pay for one myself.
Not answering, he unclipped it from
his wrist and helped me adjust it to mine. I modeled it all day, until
he returned me home and I called him, when he was five minutes away, to tell
him to come get his watch.
“Don’t worry, I am going to get you
one, but in white. That’s just so much more feminine, don’t you think?"
I leaned in the window, to observe
the watch one more time, considering his point of view:
"No, I want it in black - just
like yours. If you don’t want to get it in black, dont get it," I
said. About a month later, he presented it to me, in black - as a gift.
I remember kissing him. It was a warm fuzzy memory, so inconsistent
with our last experience. I started scrolling up, to more recent pictures
- when, ten pictures later - a week apart from the picture indicating his
purchase of my gift - was a picture of his hand romantically holding the hand
of another woman, wearing my watch, in white….
 |
| MOOD |
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I totally appreciate this :-)