Hate to Love You

by Ivy Symone

  Bless even told me a story about her brother’s ordeal with domestic violence. He lost the woman he was about to marry at the hands of her daughter’s father on the day they were supposed to marry.

  Although she gave me a lot to think about, there was a numbness over me that I couldn’t explain. I mean, my heart went out to them and everything they suffered through. But for me…I just felt like this was my fate. There was no saving me. Besides, I didn’t have it in me to leave or put Marcos away. I appreciated what Bless and Lillian were trying to do, but I didn’t leave this sessions with any more of a plan of action than I had before. I would simply continue to pray for a natural disaster to wipe Marcos off the face of this earth.

  Chapter 17

  Back to the present

  As we rushed into the labor and delivery department of Vanderbilt, I could sense that Bleu was nervous. The four of us entered Shana’s hospital room. She looked weary and frightened.

  Shana’s mother Claire rolled her eyes at the sight of Beverly. The tension was almost immediate. Since the news of Bleu having a baby on the way was made known to everyone, Beverly was the only one that remained skeptical and made sure everyone knew where she stood on the matter. I had gotten used to the idea of being a grandmother so I wasn’t given Shana a bunch of flack. Beverly was adamant that Shana and her mother were scheming.

  Ignoring Claire and not bothering to speak, Beverly asked Shana, “How dilated are you now?”

  “Five and a half,” Shana said meekly.

  “You already got your epidural?” I asked.

  Shana nodded shocked.

  I took a seat on the built in bench next to the picture window in the room. “So, we wait. Oh, excuse my manners; how are you, Ms. Roberts?”

  Claire smiled, “I’m fine. Just waiting on this baby. How are you?”

  “I’m good,” I said. I looked at my sons, one nervous and worried as hell; the other one worried for his brother. “You two, sit down.”

  Beverly cut her eyes at me. I shook my head and laughed lightly. I already knew what was going on through her head. She didn’t need me fraternizing with the enemy.

  Beverly asked, “So, did you call the other little boy?”

  I knew it was coming. And I knew this was the only reason she insisted on accompanying us.

  “Nana,” Bleu frowned.

  Beverly placed her hand on her hip, “Don’t Nana me. You ain’t the only one that might be the father.”

  “He is,” Shana said lowly keeping her head down. She refused to look at Beverly. I didn’t blame her. Beverly’s grandeur presence was still just as intimidating as it was eighteen years ago.

  “Didn’t you say you didn’t know at first?” Beverly asked.

  “Beverly,” I called out. “Not right now. Don’t stress her out while she’s in labor. It’s not good for the baby.”

  Bleu shot me a look letting me know his grandmother was getting on his nerves.

  Beverly sat down beside me, fluttering her lashes and perching her lips tight.

  As Bleu spoke softly to Shana, I could see that he was nothing like his father. I sensed he had a genuine concern for Shana. I couldn’t remember not one delivery of mine that Marcos was there for me, comforting me. There was always something much more important than the pain I was in.

  Claire asked with a pleasant smile, “How’s Marcos?”

  “He’s recovering fine,” I replied. Actually I didn’t know how he was doing. He had just been discharged from the hospital and was home now. Either I or Lailani would be taking him to all of his doctor’s and therapy appointments. I wasn’t looking forward to it. I barely paid attention to the discharge orders from his doctor when he left the hospital. All I know is Marcos was seeing every specialist there was in the medical field.

  Since being home, Marcos kept to himself in our bedroom. I slept in Marcena’s old room since she was gone to Washington, D.C. for college. Ada and Lailani communicated with him more than I did. The kids would creep into the room to check on him. Yanna said he was weird now. I don’t know why but that gave me the giggles when she reported back to me. But he was weird. If I went in the room his eyes would follow me but he wouldn’t say anything. I think losing a leg has taken a big chunk of his spirit. He wasn’t the same any more. I could see the devastation and anger in his eyes.

  It served him right and I didn’t feel any sympathy for him at all. He called himself trying to hurt me even more than he has ever before. After that therapy session with Bless, I went home and I told Marcos what I thought of him. I wanted to die but I was too much of a coward to commit suicide. I figure I’d get him mad enough to do it for me. So I expressed freely and with confidence how I felt about him. And I went about it as hurtful as I could. But he didn’t do anything to me that day. He disappeared for a few days. When he returned he came back uglier than ever.

  You know what? Thinking back on it, as I sit in this girl’s delivery room, I think I messed up. When Marcos came back from Columbia he was different. He spoke in a way that threw me off. I didn’t take him serious because I didn’t think he was capable of wanting anything different between us. What if he was serious and my rejection caused him to treat me worse than before? Why am I rationalizing this in my head though? If he truly desired to have a better relationship, a better marriage with me, then why resort to mistreating me? And when I say he got worse, he really got worse. You see the shit he pulled at the boys’ birthday party? Cold and very menacing, just to hurt me.

  An hour and a half later Shana gave birth to a seven pound eight ounce baby girl. Since she was white, the baby looked white. Beverly refused to see any resemblance to the family. I could see it. Beverly had to admit though; the baby girl was beautiful. It was official; I was a grandmother.

  _______

  I missed talking to Blake. I needed male interaction. I was feeling lonely again. I could think of a lot of things to be doing besides chauffeuring Mr. Cripple everywhere.

  “Okay, Marcos, I’m gonna show you a series of photo cards and I want you to tell me what they are,” said the speech therapist. She was a middle aged brunette woman with a pleasant smile. Her name was Jean.

  She held up a picture of a red ball. Marcos looked at it and didn’t bother to give her a reply.

  Jean sort of waved it in the air. “C’mon. I know you know what this is. Say it, Marcos.”

  He looked away from her as if he was defeated. I shook my head because even in his vulnerable condition he still wanted to be stubborn.

  I think he saw me shaking my head because he threw me a hateful stare. I wanted to laugh at him but the people in the office probably wouldn’t think that was nice of me. I returned my attention back to Candy Crush Soda Saga on my iPad.

  “Do you wanna skip this one?”

  I don’t know whether Marcos wanted to skip it or not, but there was more silence.

  “What about this one?”

  I looked up and saw she was holding a picture of a school bus.

  Marcos eyes nervously shot over to me. I waited to see if he would answer this one. He looked at the card then back at me. Why was he looking at me?

  Before I could put my head back down, I heard his voice come out in a raspy whisper.

  “R-r-ride,” he stammered.

  Ride? I scrunched up my nose to keep from laughing.

  Jean shrieked with glee. “Yes! You do ride on this. Now we’re getting somewhere. What about this?”

  She held up a picture of a dog.

  With uncertainty, Marcos strained to say, “Barking…barking.”

  Wait a minute now. I missed something. I was aware that when Marcos first awakened from his coma that he was dealing with apraxia of speech, which was common for stroke patients. During his time at the hospital, I was told he began speaking again so his silence at home was voluntary. I was beginning to see why he kept quiet.

  I sat there in amazement as he struggled with recalling the actual name of what was on the card. He said words that w
ere close to it or had something to do with it. Some cards he didn’t have anything at all. When he got back to the red ball he finally referred to it as ‘round’.

  I finally had to ask Jean, “Why can he not say what these things are?”

  She happily explained, “Marcos suffered from Broca’s aphasia. It’s a speech impairment that makes it difficult for him to recall words. He knows what it is but the part of his brain where word association is stored is sort of closed off to him. It’s hard for him to retrieve the exact word.”

  “How long will this go on?” I asked. I could feel Marcos staring a hole in me.

  Jean shrugged. “It’s something that he’ll struggle with for a while. But with consistent therapy, his ability to communicate should improve over time. With the right amount of support at home, his willingness to overcome, and therapy, Marcos can be his old self in no time.”

  His old self? Did this woman know who Marcos’ old self was?

  After the session was over, I stood at the check out counter taking care of the bill and making his next appointment. Marcos sat down in the office’s waiting area.

  Jean came up to me with her pleasant smile. Her eyes darted over to Marcos then back at me. “Your husband has been through a lot and I know all of this is new to you and the rest of the family. One of the best things for him on his road to recovery is family support. And you guys have been doing an excellent job of doing so, but I noticed when you’re with him, he’s more hesitant and unsure of himself. Do you know why that could be?”

  I shook my head as I took my bank card from the receptionist and tucked it away in my purse. “I didn’t realize he was doing that.”

  “Yeah, I really noticed it today. He kept looking over at you. Maybe that’s something you could talk to him about. Other than that, he’s made so much progress; a long way from when I first visited him in the hospital a few weeks ago.”

  I looked over at him. I found it eerie for him to be staring right back at me. I took care of everything at the counter. I went over to him and said, “I’ll go get the car and pull it up to the front of the building.”

  He shook his head reaching for his crutches. He stood up on his own and balanced himself. Once he felt confident he proceeded to walk. His gait was off as he walked on his temporary prosthesis but that’s what the crutches were for. I had to give it to him; he was determined to walk around as close to normal as possible.

  “So, you wanna walk?” I asked just to be sure.

  He nodded as he walked ahead of me. I wouldn’t argue with him.

  Once we were secured inside of the car, I asked, “You want something to eat?”

  He nodded. I started the car and began driving.

  “You wanna stop by your uncle’s? He asked about you the other day. He hadn’t been able to make it over to the house since you’ve been home.”

  Marcos shook his head and focused on the scenery outside his window. I could see that he wasn’t in the mood to be bothered.

  “Marcos, there’s no need in avoiding everyone. You can’t stay in the bedroom for the rest of your life. Is that what you’re trying to do?”

  Of course he didn’t say anything but when I glanced over at him, his brow was furrowed with irritation. I think I discovered my new purpose; to get on his nerves as much as I could.

  _______

  Later that night, I decided to have a talk with Marcos. I walked in our bedroom while he was tending to his leg as the doctors’ had instructed. When he saw me a look of embarrassment waved over his face and he covered himself with the comforter on the bed.

  I sat on the edge of the bed beside him and looked at him sympathetically, “You don’t have to feel embarrassed or ashamed. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  He just stared at me.

  I sort of let my shoulders drop in defeat. I began speaking, “You know, at first I didn’t care about what you were going through. As a matter of fact, I had very evil thoughts and wanted you to die. I admit that I had tuned out everything the doctors explained about all of your conditions. But I don’t know…seeing you today really trying kind of did something to me”

  I paused and gathered my thoughts.

  “At first I thought this was the perfect time for us to legally separate. I had seen this cute little place for rent online. It’s only a three bedroom but I figured the kids could have lived between both houses. I’m sure Bleu and Azul would have wanted to stay here most of the time. Remi and Yanna would definitely wanna come with me. I’m not sure about Stormi and Raiyne though.”

  “No.”

  I was shocked. He said that very clear and with no hesitation. There was even some authority in his tone.

  I sighed and averted my eyes down to the floor. “Marcos, I’ve spent more than half of my life being unhappy with you. And all I ever wanted was for you to love me. Not love me because I was the mother of your kids, but love me. Love me because you felt you had no purpose if you couldn’t. Love me because it felt good. Love me because you wanted me to experience the beauty of love…”

  I knew I was going to get emotional although I tried my best to hold my tears back.

  “And in a way I used to feel indebted to you because you came along and removed me, my sister, and my mama from a dire situation. I was so grateful for that. So I loved you. And whether you know this or not, I always believed that there was a good person inside of you. You let him come out from time to time but for the most part you treated me like garbage. And I never knew why. I spent all of these years trying to figure out why you hated me. What did I do? I mean; all I ever tried to do was prove to you that I was here and that I loved you. I was willing to be whatever you needed me to be. You didn’t have to beat me to make me stay or do any of that. You didn’t have to put fear in me to make me stay.”

  I looked up at him through tear blurred eyes and saw silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

  “I was your wife! I was gonna stay regardless. You didn’t have to do me…,” I started crying. I had to wait a few seconds to gather myself. I continued, “And now I’m faced with having to take care of you; get you back to your old self. But your old self don’t love me. And I’d rather not be around when he get back. But because I know I still love you—as much as I hate that I do, I know I do—I’m willing to help you get back to your old self. Just know, that I have to move on.”

  “No,” he objected again. His mouth opened as his brain searched for the correct words but the task was proving to be frustrating. I hated to see him struggle and it seemed like the more stressed he was the harder it was for him.

  “Don’t try to speak. I just wanted you to listen,” I told him as I got up. He reached out for me, but in my mind I thought he wanted to attack me. My immediate reaction was to jump back.

  When he saw that, he looked at me with sorrow and defeat. He was hurt. As much as I wanted to take joy in his pain, I just couldn’t. I wasn’t built that way.

  Taking a risk, before I walked out of the room, I leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I love you.”

  ______

  “I don’t know, Neph,” Corvell said. He observed Marcos working through his physical therapy session with the therapist in our den. “It looks like that nigga really trying to make a full recovery. And when he do, I would not wanna be you.”

  I actually smiled at Corvell’s statement. “I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”

  “What’s up with this new attitude?” he asked with a hint of amusement.

  I shrugged. I don’t think what I was feeling was a change of attitude. It was more like I was coming into a peace that I had never experienced before. It felt good being released from the hold people had over you. Furthermore, it felt even better knowing that someone else was at your mercy and you consciously decided that continuing to treat them with kindness would prevail. So yes, lately I was feeling a little triumphant.

  Bleu came running through the den and by the kitchen yelling at me at the same time
, “Shana’s here!”

  Before I knew it, the rest of the kids had scrambled through the kitchen and den meeting Shana, the baby, and Claire before they could fully make it through the house.

  Between Corvell, Ada, Lailani, the kids, and me, baby Lauryn was the star for the evening.

  “He’s gon’ be a real good daddy,” Ada murmured under her breath. “Thank God he won’t be nothing like his own daddy and that damn granddaddy of his.”

  I chuckled because I thought the same thing as I took note of how Bleu cared for Lauryn. He didn’t seem scared at all. It was almost as if it came natural to him.

  Ada looked over at Marcos. “He lookin’ real pitiful. God sho do have a way of making a person be still and seein’ thangs a lil’ diff’rently.”

  Is that what happened to Marcos? Did he have a different perspective on life?

  Since the house had become lively, the physical therapist cut Marcos’ therapy short. As soon as he did, Marcos quietly escaped. I followed behind him undetected. He went into the bedroom straight to the master bathroom. Then there was silence and no movement.

  I moved in closer to see what he was doing. He stood before our double sink vanity with his head lowered in deep thought. His hands rested on the counter and arms locked holding him up. He stood with most of his weight on his good leg.

  Finally lifting his head up he immediately noticed me standing in the doorway through the mirror’s reflection. I don’t know what bothered me the most, him crying or my heart dropping at the sight of him crying. It didn’t just drop but it went out to him.

  It’s not in me to be evil. I went to him and did what I’ve always done: I loved him.

  We stood there holding each other for dear life and I let him cry while trying not to cry and remain strong for him. I wasn’t doing a good job of it. Talking through the tears, I said, “We’re gonna get through this. I promise we will.”

  He pulled back and tried to say something. All he could say was the word ‘don’t’ as he shook his head. Then he pointed to himself then to me emphasizing with ‘don’t’.