by Chunichi
Then one day, she just disappeared. No one heard from her for weeks. After a month passed, she finally contacted her mother. We all were so happy and relieved to know that she was safe. The only information she shared was that she was okay and living in Atlanta. She didn’t leave a phone number, address, or any means of contacting her. A year later, she returned to Virginia for a short visit. She was back to the Chastity we all knew and loved. She was confident, optimistic and quite ambitious. She told us of the different projects she was working on. She planned on purchasing a strip club from an associate of hers and she was also looking into either opening a restaurant or a catering business. Obviously, her plan worked, and now she was a successful business owner.
Until this day, we still have no idea what she was doing during those weeks we did not hear from her. In fact, we don’t even know what prompted her to just pick up and leave. We suspected it was something illegal. There were even rumors of drug trafficking from Florida to Georgia, but we never had any solid confirmation. We often asked her about her absence and the different rumors, but she just replied with, “I can’t tell you, because then I’d have to kill you. Let’s just say that it was my secret to an expeditious success!” And we certainly couldn’t argue with that, because whatever she did, it certainly worked.
After an hour or so, my mother arrived at Chastity’s house. I ran toward her like a small child.
“Mommy! I missed you sooooo much!” She was so beautiful as she walked toward my embrace.
“I’ve missed you too, honey,” she said as she kissed me on my forehead.
I missed her bright smile and glow. My mother is the happiest person I know. No matter what hand she was dealt in life, she would pick herself up, dust herself off, and keep going. Because I had chosen to stay with my mother after the divorce, my dad decided to leave her with everything. That was a wonderful gesture, but the problem was that he left no means of maintaining them. My mother was left to foot the bill for a quarter-million dollar home, three elaborate cars, and my college education. I can remember the times after my parents’ divorce when my mother barely had enough money from her nursing salary to pay our mortgage. My mom was forced to stretch her check to maintain the lifestyle that we were so accustomed to.
Luckily, she was not stuck with the responsibility of maintaining my diva status. The weekly deposits my father transferred into my savings account were enough to pay that bill. That was a good thing, too. I couldn’t handle the thought of being without those things, even though my mother never even frowned.
“God will provide,” she would constantly say as she hummed the tune of What a Friend We Have in Jesus. I hated my father for making her suffer the way she did. She worked two jobs just so she could pay the bills and make sure I had the things I needed during college. I never went without, but I was angry that my mom had to work so hard to make sure of that. Her hard work soon came to an end, though. After I graduated from college my mother felt comfortable enough to move to Atlanta. I, on the other hand, decided I’d made my imprint on Virginia so it was here I must stay. My dad was furious at the idea, but there was no changing my decision. To sway me to change my mind, my dad eventually cut off my weekly deposits. I soon experienced the struggles my mom had once felt, but not even that could change my mind. I was in Virginia and it was here I planned to stay.
My father is the VP of marketing for one of the largest record companies in New York. While in Virginia, he held an executive position at a local record company that provided a pretty comfortable living for us. The company eventually merged with a larger company in New York and my dad was the first pick for VP. Because I was still in school, my parents did not want us to relocate right away, so my dad would often travel back and forth between Virginia and New York. This worked great until the time span between the visits began to get longer and longer. It eventually got to the point where we were only seeing him on holidays. My mom suspected foul play. And like every woman, she did her homework to find out. Needless to say, her suspicion was right. My dad was cheating with a young, southern white girl who was working as an intern with the company. He eventually left my mother for this white woman who was half his age.
For a long time, I hated my father. I blamed him for every struggle my mother and I encountered after the divorce. When I think back, he was never a dad. He was so consumed by his job that he never had time for his family.
He missed birthdays and even anniversaries. All my mother and I really had was each other, so when he left, I didn’t feel alone. Actually, I saw little difference in life at home. There was a financial difference, but that’s about it.
Not long after my mother arrived, we decided to head to the mall. Chastity stayed behind, saying she would give us some time alone to catch up.
“I am so excited about my first grandchild!” my mother expressed as we swung into the parking space.
Once we entered the mall, she went wild, wanting to purchase everything. I figured it was okay since I had finally reached my fifth month. She purchased everything from clothes to cribs. She even planned to turn one of her extra bedrooms into a room for the twins.
“I expect to see my grandbabies at least once a month. And when they come, they’ll be comfortable in their own little room.”
I smiled at my mother’s excitement. I was happy to be around someone who shared the excitement of the twins along with Vegas and me.
As the days passed, I started missing Vegas more and more. I cried myself to sleep each night, as I lay alone in my bed. My life seemed so empty without him.
One morning, I decided to take a long, hot bath to relieve some of the pain I was feeling from carrying the twins. I’d been having a lot of discomfort the few days prior. I lit the aromatherapy candles surrounding the bathtub and immersed my body in the water. After five minutes of soaking, I had a sudden urge to urinate. I struggled to lift my 165-pound body out of the tub. I took the first step out, then a watery fluid gushed onto the floor.
“Aaaaahhhhh! Mommyyyyyyyy!!!” I screamed in fear as I stood with my legs apart. She rushed into the bathroom and looked down at the floor.
“Your water has broken, baby. It’s a little too early for that, but don’t worry,” she said calmly as she dialed 911.
My stomach cramped so bad that I gently lowered myself to the bathroom floor and rolled on my side in a fetal position.
“Breathe, baby. Breathe,” my mother instructed.
Based on the closeness of my contractions, the 911 operator informed my mother that I was going to deliver soon. I positioned myself on my back and bent my knees. My body shook with pain as sweat rolled from my forehead. With every contraction, it felt natural for me to push. It seemed that was the only way to stop the pain. So, with each contraction I pushed. After several pushes, my first twin was out . . . but there was no cry.
“Mommy! Mommy! Why isn’t she crying? Why isn’t she crying?” I began to panic. “Please, give her CPR, Mommy. Please, do something to help her breathe,” I begged my mother.
It was at that moment the emergency rescue team rushed into the bathroom. They immediately grabbed the first twin, cut the cord and began to deliver the next. Once again, I pushed and the second twin was out. She came into the world with a small, broken cry. Again, the emergency technician snatched the twin away. They hurried us all to the nearest hospital as I bled continuously. When we got to the hospital, I was in terrible condition. I felt like my life was slipping away. I became really cold as everything went black and I fell into a deep sleep.
While sleeping, I dreamt some amazing things. I felt like I was in Paradise as I floated through each image. I vividly remember one particular scene. Children playing in a park surrounded me. I did not recognize any of the children by appearance, but I felt a certain connection with two of the little girls. They were so beautiful. They had caramel skin, long, curly black hair, perfect little teeth, hazel eyes and a beautiful smile to match. As soon as I walked on the playground, they approached m
e. I could see the little girls were trying to communicate with me, but no words came from their mouths. They pulled me by my arm to an area of the playground where flowers grew. This area was the most peaceful part of the playground. I sat down as the little girls gave me gifts of flowers, teddy bears and drawings. Then, the little girls kissed me on my cheek and pulled at my hand. I tried to get up, but I could not move. The little girls just smiled as they tugged. It was as though they didn’t even realize I could not move. In a matter of seconds, the dream was over.
I opened my eyes slowly to the bright lights above my hospital bed. Beside me sat my mother. Her head rested on my leg as she rubbed my hand. She was so excited that I was awake. I could not speak and my body was very stiff. I looked around the room for my twins but they were not there. I wanted to ask where they were, but I could not find the strength for words. As the hours passed, the doctors ran a number of tests and removed many of the tubes that were attached to my body.
The next day, I felt much stronger and was able to speak. The only thing I wanted was to see my twins. Again, my mother was right beside me when I woke.
“Mom, how are my twins and where are they?” I asked.
I had a heavy feeling in my heart as I awaited the answer. By the look on her face, I knew it couldn’t be good.
“I’m sorry, honey. Your twins didn’t make it. I already contacted the prison so they could relay the news to Vegas. I’m so sorry, honey,” she said in a broken voice.
She explained to me that I had been in a coma for the past month. She went on to tell me the events that followed the delivery of my babies.
“After giving birth to the twins, your uterus didn’t contract, so you kept bleeding. You lost so much blood that you became unconscious and eventually comatose. Once they got the babies and you to the hospital, they rushed you into surgery.
The entire time you were in a coma, your twins struggled for their little lives. They were less than two pounds each and very underdeveloped. One struggled with lung problems while the other struggled with fluid on her brain.”
I cried as my mother told me the ups and downs of their struggles. They were holding on for dear life and their mommy wasn’t even there to comfort them and help them during their fight. I felt so bad. My mom said the girls fought until I came out of my coma, at which time they died simultaneously. I was crushed as I imagined my daughters’ struggle. I didn’t understand what I did to deserve such pain. I thought maybe that was the ultimate punishment for all the bad things Vegas and I had done. I prayed for an answer.
God, we turned our lives around and attended church each Sunday. I gave continuous praise and worship for all my blessings. I just don’t understand why You would allow something so terrible to happen.
A week later, I was discharged from the hospital.
“Honey, I think it’s best you stay with me a little while longer. You seem a little depressed,” my mom suggested.
I agreed to stay with her a couple weeks longer. During that time, I constantly questioned the Lord.
“If all things of the Lord are good, then why does He allow tragedy?” I would ask my mother.
My mother answered each question with a spiritual response.
“The Lord does not allow anything to happen in vain. He allows us to go through things to bring us closer to Him.”
Sad to say, I was not happy with the “God works in mysterious ways” or “it’s just a test of faith” or “the Lord has a plan for you” responses. I really didn’t want to hear the name God or Lord, period. I felt like God had played a cruel trick on me, and I definitely didn’t find it funny. At that point, the Lord and I were on opposing teams.
My mother sensed my anger and felt there was only one way to save me from my despair.
“Why don’t you come to church with me this week? We’re having a healing convocation. I think it may help you feel better,” my mother suggested.
I refused with no explanation and shut myself off to all things. I just wanted to return home.
Chapter 11
Divas Need Therapy Too
By the time fall rolled around, I was back to wearing a size three. The laundromats were doing great and Vegas was doing well, too. I traveled to Richmond each weekend to visit him. He had been sentenced to one year. The federal charge was dismissed, but he had to serve one year of his probation for being out of the state when we were in Cancun. He estimated he would only have to serve about ten months.
My body recovered well after my surgery, but emotionally, I was still in pretty bad shape. I decided to visit Charlotte in order to cope with the anger I was feeling over the twins’ death. Our meetings were productive. Each week, she would give me a task to work on. One particular week she instructed me to take notes of the times when I was happy and not feeling frustrated at all. Before she gave me that task, I felt that I had little to no frustration, but once she gave me the task, my life became hell.
On the way from the session, a police officer pulled me over for a fake ass violation, but I knew my only real crime was driving a nice car in the Great Neck area of Virginia Beach while young, black, and beautiful. When the prick walked to the car, he didn’t ask for a registration or license, but instead ordered me to step out of the car and put my hands on the hood. Of course, I refused.
“What exactly are you pulling me over for, sir? Would it be racial profiling, by chance?”
He got very angry at my refusal and sarcastic response and proceeded to pull me out of the car. Once he got me out, he held one arm behind my back and grabbed my neck with his free hand. Then he forced my face on the burning hood of the car and put the cuffs on me. Needless to say, I did not pass go, but went straight to jail with no “get out of jail free” card. He claimed he was pulling me over because my car fit the description of a stolen vehicle. However, I didn’t fit the description of the suspect.
As soon as I was released on a personal release bond, I called my attorney, then, I contacted Asia. Asia was the bitch of all bitches when it came to things like this. As a bank executive, Asia rubbed elbows with all sorts of powerful people. There wasn’t an issue she couldn’t solve. She told me not to worry; she would take care of things. I didn’t worry, because I knew that with my attorney and Asia’s connections, plus her “super bitch” attitude, the devil would run for cover.
It seemed like that incident was the beginning to an eternal hell. The few days after that were even worse. After working out one afternoon, I came home to a yellow bag from the Sheriff’s Department. I was not happy seeing that damn bag on my gate. I snatched the bag off and began to read: VIRGINIA BEACH JUVENILE AND DOMESTIC COURT IN REFERENCE TO KAREN WHITE VS. LAYMONT JACKSON.
Now I was pissed.
What in the hell does he have a subpoena for, and who the hell is Karen White? I thought.
I couldn’t wait to get his call. I was prepared to fry his ass. He’s already put me through enough shit and now this, I thought as I walked to the front door. It wasn’t long before I received the call that I had been anticipating. As soon as he said ‘hello’, I let him have it.
“What are you talking about, C? I never even heard of a Karen White!” he pleaded, but I wasn’t buying it.
How could he not know her when she’s got our address, his name, and his date of birth?
I felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown. I screamed and slammed the phone down. I walked back and forth and let out a crazed cry. I was acting so crazy that Prissy ran under the bed and hid during my tantrum. I had to do something to calm down, so I made myself a drink. I made a Belvedere and orange juice, turned on No Letting Go by Wayne Wonder, sat in the Jacuzzi, and smoked some hydro. I was blazed as I sang with Wayne:
Got somebooooody,
Sheeee’s a beauty,
Very speeeeeecial,
Really and truuuuuuuuly.
Takes good care of me,
Like it’s her duuuuuty.
Walk riiiight by my side,
Niiig
ht and daaaaay.
The truth in those words was amazing. The girl he spoke of in that song was me. I did all those things for Vegas and he deceived me. I went against everything that my parents taught me for the love of Vegas, and he stabbed me in the back. That brought so much pain to my heart that I just sat and cried. A little while later, I found myself a little tipsy and decided to get some rest.
I awoke to the sound of the intercom.
“Ceazia . . . Ceazia.”
It was Asia and she was at the gate. I buzzed the gate open and met her at the door. Asia stopped by to give me an update on everything she had done.
“I contacted the officer’s superior and filed a complaint for you. I also contacted the Mayor’s office and a local newscaster. I notified the NAACP and a local chapter of civil rights activists. Once we finish with his ass, he’s gonna be willing to turn in his badge. I’m thinking you should even pursue a civil suit.”
That’s why I loved Asia so much. She was definitely a doer and not a talker. She was on a mission to make the officer’s life a living hell and her mission was just about complete. As we were talking, the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hey girl, I need to talk to you.” It was India.
“I swear you twins have some psychic connection. Asia just came over.”
“Well, tell her to leave. We really need to talk,” India demanded.
I told Asia I would speak to her later since her sister was having a crisis. Asia left and I went back to the phone.
India was so upset. She told me about a very disturbing call she received from her fiancé’s brother.
“Samuel has been apprehended by the Jamaican police. They tied him to a number of murders and it doesn’t look good. Samuel has been set up by someone, but we have no idea who. He knew it had to be someone close, and from the way his brother speaks, I’m a suspect,” India said, crying uncontrollably as she told me the story.