by Tameka Hicks
“I’m going to have to wash this before you take it back. Let’s get out of here,” he said, helping her up off the floor. “You got blood all over your dress,” he said humorously. She walked out of the kitchen in a zombie-liketrance. No thoughts or words.
“Will you make yourself useful,” he handed the last six gifts off the table to her. He removed the brick from behind the door closing and locking it.
She stood halfway into the hallway holding the gifts scared out of her mind not wanting to pass him.
“What are you standing there for?”
She took baby steps in his direction, with her hands full of gifts. As she walked halfway through the door, he let the door go, hitting her arm with it.
“Marion!” Stupid ass!
She pushed the door back opened using her foot. He opened the car door for her to place the gifts into the backseat. As she went to get out of the car, he pushed her into the backseat using his knee.
“Ride back there and lie down. And don’t get any blood on my seats.”
“Go to hell,” she yelled. She quickly turned her head away from him.
She lay there crying, holding onto her stomach. He sped past Jane, Loretto, Filbert, and Wilfred streets within seconds it seemed. “You just raped me.” She painfully moved onto her side. “Are you trying to kill me now?”
She just won’t shut the fuck up talking to me, he thought.
“Slow down,” she yelled, as she hit the back of the headrest. I wish I had my mace. I would spray him until his eye-balls fell out.
He looked at her from the rear view mirror still driving. “Don’t make me pull this damn car over.”
She yelled. “Pull it over Rapist! Let me out!”
He smirked. “You’re my wife. How can I rape you?”
“Rape is when a person forces another person to have sex against their will.”
“Thank you, Webster Dictionary,” he said with sarcasm.
“I said, “No”-and you kept doing it-and hard at that.”
“You know you liked that as much as I did.”
“No, I didn’t, and to do this in a church? You are nasty because I’m on my period.”
“When you’re getting raped you yell for help.” He continued to say, “I didn’t hear you yell for help. I heard moaning.”
“They were moans of aches and pains, not pleasure. Nothing was pleasurable about what you did to me.” She exclaimed. “I’m sitting in a fucking car, bleeding with a wedding dress and no panties on, and I asked for this Marion? I’m enjoying this?”
“That’s not what I saw. You need to live a little! We are married, we can fuck where ever we want to,” he said amused.
She shook her head as many thoughts rushed in, but she couldn’t find the right insult to match the silliest shit she had ever heard. He reached underneath the passenger's seat after he’d stopped at a red light and removed something from under the seat.
“What’s this?”
He tossed a pink birth control package in the backseat at Diane. “I thought we were planning on having a child?”
“These aren’t mine. It doesn’t even have a sticker with the name of the person that it belongs to.” She tossed the package back at him.
“You took the name off of it, in case I found it.”
“It could very well belong to one of the girls. I’m not taking birth control pills. I swear,” she explained with a frightened look on her face. She thought that this might be a reason for another one of his beatings.
“Sure, just like you didn’t ask permission from me before you went ahead and cut your hair.”
“When did I ever ask you permission to do anything?” She rolled her eyes. “The last time I checked, I was an adult.”
He pulled in front of their apartment. “You used to tell me everything before you did it, and now you think you can just make decisions like this before consulting me. What was the purpose of getting married?”
“Are you my fucking doctor or my damn husband?”
“What!” he said as he turned around and gave her a back handed slap to her face.
It was so loud the people in the apartment building probably heard it. She placed her hand on her face and hauled off and punched him in the face with her right fist before she realized it.
“You son-of-a bitch,” she attacked him from the backseat.
“Don’t you ever hit me again!” he grabbed her hands squeezing them hard. “Bitch, if you put your damn hands on me! I’ll kill you. Get out of my car!”
“Make me.”
He tried to push her out of the car. “You need to go in the house Bloody Mary!”
She spat on him, opened the door, and ran towards the apartment. “You crazy bitch!”
Mrs. Harrison, the old lady who lived on the third floor turned on the light looking down at them from the balcony. “Diane, are you alright?”
“See what you have done,” she mumbled. He had her by the arm.
“Yes, I’m alright-we’re just playing. Let me go,” she whispered.
“Okay,” she said heading back into her apartment.
“Fuck that old ass lady. She’s too fucking nosey. I’m going into the house.”
Diane went into the apartment and headed straight for the bathroom locking the door. She flashed back to the first time Marion had grabbed her face because she playfully told him to be quiet. All this started after he fell and injured his knee and could no longer play football. He promised that he wasn’t going to hit her again. But he had. She knew he was cheating on her but she didn’t have concrete proof. What am I going to do? I love him, but I can’t continue like this. I can’t call and talk to mama because she would kill him with her bare hands. He had told her on quite a few occasions that she would never find another man who could love her the way he did and that no one else would want her but him.” You can’t satisfy me in bed like you used to.” He told her. “It’s your fault if I did cheat. Do you think another man will want you? Do you know how many women would love to be in your shoes?” He filled her head with this nonsense so often that she had started to actually believe it herself.
She got out of the shower and went into the bedroom to get her pajamas. He had stretched across the bed in the nude crying softly to himself. She wanted to just walk past him and let him suffer for a change, but she couldn’t. “What’s the matter with you Marion?”
“Come here, please. I promise I won’t hit you.” He sat up and hugged her.
“Diane, I have a problem, and I don’t know what to do about it. My hopes of being a pro football player are over. I just wanted to give you a good life baby. I’m stuck working at Domino’s for another three months until hopefully I can land a job at this software company. The bills are stacking up quicker than my little checks can pay for them.”
She grabbed his hand. “I told you to let me help you with the bills, but you won’t let me. I make good money.”
“That’s the problem, I’m the man and I’m supposed to take care of you; not you take care of me.”
She kneeled down beside him. “Marion, I found the liquor bottles that you had hidden underneath the dresser. You’re drinking too much and that’s contributing to your violent behavior. Do you love me?”
He wiped his face, nodding. “You know I do.”
“These last six months have been hell for me. You have hit me at least three times and you always come back and say that you’re sorry, not to mention you’ve threatened to kill me if I leave. You’re one way around the family, but you’re another way at home and I’m becoming afraid of you. I’d rather you kill me from trying to leave than for me to live in fear of you. Both of us have tempers and I can’t promise you that I will always be this calm and take this abuse from you. One of us is going to end up dead, and I love life as much as you do.” She got up and went into the closet to get two comforters. He watched her walk away.
“Where are you going?”
“To watch television in the living roo
m,” but she really had plans on locking herself in the bathroom, just in case he started to trip again. He lay there completely naked,
drifting off to sleep, letting the cool breeze from the fan hit his body.
Diane opened up the window, placed the covers in the bathtub and cried herself to sleep. She thought about jumping in the car and going over to Jeanette’s house, but she pictured him waking up in the middle of the night and waiting in the living room chair with a belt as she crept back into the house. I can’t leave him now; he needs me. She thought.
MISSING PAGES
THESE-R-MY-CONFESSIONS
Dear Diary,
Today is June 20th, 1993. It’s Friday, around 10:45
p.m. the last time that I checked. I’m lying in bed watching television at my grandma’s house (now home again) in my panties and bra because it’s humid outside. It was one hundred and one degrees today, and now its eighty-eight degrees outside, not much better.
I’m upstairs in my room (which is an attic that had been converted into a bedroom, and I’m burning the hell up.) My fan is on, but it’s blowing hot air on my body. I took three cold showers today to no avail because I’m sticky and sweaty again once I come back up to my room. I’ve been feeling sick since a week before the wedding. I hate to think about the wedding. That was a total waste of my time because everything that I planned failed miserably. Thanks to Grandma for saving the damn day. Well, I told you that I had a big secret to tell you so here it goes.
The week before the wedding when I spent the night over Diane’s house, Nikki and I stole Marion’s car and went to the store because I needed some cigarettes. I was more interested in being in the car, so I could jot down some information. You know the names and numbers of the businesses where she was going to get the stuff for the wedding.
The following morning, (at seven o’clock) Nikki and I walked to Damman’s Hardware and had copies of the apartment keys made before anyone got up. Diane made it easy by laying her keys on the kitchen counter for me. We left and returned before anyone noticed that we had gone. They probably would’ve slept longer, but the smell of breakfast woke them up. That Sunday morning, Diane asked me to go and get the folder out of her car; I didn’t want to put my hands on that folder under any circumstances, so Diane had Caylen go out to the car. I really didn’t feel like going for one, but that helped for what I had planned. I was framing my little cousin to take the fall? Yes, I don’t like her, and I always get blamed for everything, so now it was someone else’ turn. She was showing us the pictures of the tuxedoes and flowers. I saw the receipt and immediately got a brilliant idea on what to do next. Diane put the folder in the top drawer in her room. I know because as I was coming out of the bathroom, I saw where she put it from the reflection on the mirror on her dresser. That Monday, Nikki drove her mother’s car over to grandma’s house and asked me in front of everyone if I wanted to go to the mall with her. She wanted to go shopping for a dress to wear to the wedding. {Yeah right?} We went straight to Diane’s apartment while they were at work and school and I entered the apartment through the back door so no one could see me. It seemed as if that old lady from upstairs was always looking out of her window with her nosey ass. They didn’t need a neighborhood watch as long as she lived there. I took the receipts from the folder and went to the corner store and made copies of all of them before returning them when I finished. We then drove to the west side and picked up Nikki’s cousin David, so he could go inside the bakery and get a refund and cancel the order for the cake. He told the lady behind the counter that he was Marion. Diane was at work and he wanted to surprise her because his sister was a baker and she wanted to bake the cake for them. He let her see the copied receipt and Sally gave him the money without any hesitation. Of course, Nikki and I were nowhere around the bakery. We go in there all the time. We didn’t even park the car on the same block as the bakery. He received fifty dollars for his services. Nikki received fifty dollars because she was his agent and I received one hundred and ten dollars because I was the mastermind and because that’s what I said I was going to get. We dropped him off at home and we used a payphone on W. Eight Mile Road and Burt Road near a Popeye’s Chicken restaurant. Nikki called, posing as Diane and cancelled the photography appointment. Kim told us to come and get the money, but we told her that we were too busy and we would be up there after the wedding. Then, we called the DJ and cancelled the music, but when it came time to cancel the food service, this nasty ass bitch of a receptionist got an attitude with Nikki. She was talking about their time is valuable and Diane shouldn’t have had them schedule this day. That bit-. That lady was very unprofessional. I wanted to get on the phone and cuss her out myself, but I had to stay out of it. When you’re guilty keep your hands clean. She asked for the number on the receipt and the time the service was scheduled for. She asked a lot of questions before she went ahead and cancelled it. My favorite part of all was Friday morning. I took the bus and went over to the apartment by myself and went into Diane’s closet. I had a razor blade that I kept underneath my tongue sometimes, (I planned on using that) but I came across a pair of scissors in the closet. I tried on her dress before I shredded it. I thought I looked better in it than she did and I started cutting myself out of it. I didn’t cut up my dress until four o’clock Saturday morning when everyone was knocked out because I figured she was going to ask me to try it on again for her and she did just that. I’m glad that I followed my first mind and waited. I put the scissors under the spot where Caylen was sleeping to set her up like the fool that she is. I played them both like a guitar and neither one of them saw what I was doing. Men aren’t the only ones that are stupid. Case in point: Why did I do it? You should be wondering to yourself? Good question. I wanted to get back at Caylen and her sister for reading my diary three months ago (they didn’t get to read much but still) Caylen was my target. Diane kept on bugging me to be in the wedding and to sing for her so I planned on fixing her for the unnecessary pressure that she put on me. If I said that I didn’t want to do it, then leave me alone. I have other reasons that I don’t want to elaborate on right now. The shit just didn’t go the way I planned it. She got three free cakes from Sally. The DJ came after all. Grandma took care of the food situation. Marion reimbursed grandma for purchasing Diane’s dress and grandma bought me a new one. Where did this lady have all this money stashed? After all that trouble, Charles and I still had to sing, I still had to wear a stupid dress even though I did look good and my boy Marion still got married. I was mad because Diane sat on me when Jeanette and I were engaged in “The Fight,” that was my chance to kick her ass for slapping me a while back at grandma’s house but Diane kept grabbing me. Think about it? What reason would I be hanging around Diane for? Something had to be very interesting for me to spend the weekend away from home. Lesson one: Never let females spend the night at your house and you have a boyfriend whether he’s fine or not. Lesson two: Never let another girl prepare a meal for your man, especially if you can’t cook. I’d caught him looking at my ass a few times, so she better be careful and learn some street smarts. You should be book smart, as well as street smart. To me, I think a street smart person is more valuable because you can work the streets to make money, while the book smart person is at home reading books, getting A’s while their man is out screwing around on them. I’ve failed to mention that I’m five months pregnant. I feel like a big, hot mama whale. Jeanette mentioned to grandma about registering me in this center that’s on a farm for troubled, pregnant teenagers. That’s a bunch of B.S but I’ll be leaving next week. I don’t even care anymore. Who’s the daddy? I’ll tell you some other time. Write in you later.
DIARY ENTRY 9
Dear Diary,
The Loving Center my fat, yellow ass. There’s nothing loving about this f------place. Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life. I realized for the first time last night that I will spend my 17th birthday in this damn prison. It’s a nice, clean looking center, but it’s nothing
but a fancy girls’ home. I knew that Jeanette was going to find some reason to do something stupid to pay me back, and because I had gotten pregnant, that was her chance to get rid of me. I haven’t spoken three smart words to Jeanette since the fight so how am I a troubled-teen? I was good enough to watch her baby, but I’m a problem because I’m having my own child? Grandma allowing her to do this to me was the most shocking thing about the situation. She didn’t stand up for me like I thought she would have. I’ve never been literally stabbed in the back before, but I can say I’ve experienced the closest feeling to it. I thought I was fucked up when Nia told everyone in school about my crush on Charles. That doesn’t compare to the hurt and feelings of betrayal that I am dealing with now. It’s like she’s been brainwashed by Jeanette. Grandma is so intent on maintaining a good relationship with Jeanette that she doesn’t care about messing up the relationship that she and I once shared. Normally, when I got mad, I sought revenge on the person who hurt me, but it’s different this time. I could never hurt my grandma no matter what she has done to me, now this is truly a first for me. I’m mad as hell with her, but I can look in my grandma’s eyes and see that she’s hurting too. She’s just caught in the middle of our war. I wanted to talk to her, but my pride wouldn’t allow it. I never had regretted anything I’ve done in my life until yesterday, when I snatched away from her. As for Jeanette, I could rip her head off her body with my bare hands and not think twice about it. I could feel the vibes of hate coming off of her body. She tolerates me, but she doesn’t love me, and I would put my life on that. I’m in a room by myself for now said Miss Williams (the lady runs this place) but not for long. This woman wobbles around the center like she’s GOD Almighty. She doesn’t like or trusts me, and I don’t like Miss Piggy either. I’m scheduled for my first prenatal visit tomorrow with Dr. Shavers at four thirty after class. Everything is scheduled by your last name and what grade you are in. I’m a sophomore right now. Thanks to Jeanette I will have a memorable birthday. Yesterday, I called Nikki, Charles and Tyrese and hollered at them for a minute. This place is so confining and you must present your ID card everywhere you go. We get three free passes per week to use the phones and we earn extra passes by getting good grades. There are security guards for every mother-fu****** (sorry) thing that we do in this place. I never talked on the phone much, but I had the freedom to pick up the phone if and when I wanted to. I guess you never miss a privilege until it’s stripped from you. We even have scheduled times to shower and eat, sound like prison rules to me. The shower rule was stupid, but necessary.