The problem was . . . I couldn’t pull it together.
Living on a constant roller coaster with Jaye was taking its toll on my emotions as well as my body. Nothing about the relationship was right, and I knew it. The fact that he didn’t take care of me the way I thought I should be taken care of was a frustration that I suppressed every day. Even if he couldn’t handle looking after us, I wished he would at least talk to me about it.
And marriage. He never brought up the idea of marriage, but I was okay with that. Deep down, I just knew that it would never happen. Time after time, I told myself, Walk away, Chrissy, but I just couldn’t. It wasn’t an option because of how I felt inside: hopelessly, emotionally attached since the first day I gave my body to him. And there wasn’t any reason for me to believe that I wouldn’t be this way for the rest of my life. It compelled me to do anything and everything to be near him all the time, despite the cost. I couldn’t necessarily say he felt the same deep connection with me, but it didn’t matter.
Feeling trapped in the relationship was even worse when the bottom kept falling out—which happened once again. I was terminated from my job in Dallas. But this time, something snapped inside me. Between losing my job, losing my parents’ support, and Jaye going back to New York, I reached my breaking point. I loathed myself so much that thoughts of suicide started to cross my mind.
While the baby was fast asleep, I would sprawl out on the floor, beating the ground with my fists, yelling at God for allowing this to happen. I wondered how I had become like the people my dad would try to help when I was a little girl—like the man whose tears were running down his face as my dad pleaded with him. At the time, I never understood why he cried, but what I had wondered then I fully understood now. He cried because he couldn’t get free. Now there seemed to be no way out for me either.
I wanted so badly to go back to my childhood, hang on to Daddy’s hand, and know that I was perfectly safe. But I was too far gone now. It wasn’t that I didn’t miss the love and comfort of my old world—I craved it. Only now that need was being snuffed out by the impossibility of my current circumstances that were killing me. And no matter how much it crushed me to have my baby in this pit with me, I couldn’t see any rope in sight to pull us out.
Regardless of what I was going through, without my parents’ financial support I couldn’t make it. And since I had burned every bridge with all the people who had tried to help me in the past, I couldn’t think of who to call for help. For now, I just needed to get back to New York, so I racked my brain trying to think of who I knew who would be willing to come to my aid. Then Lorna came to mind.
Lorna would do just about anything for me! I thought. She loves me like her own daughter. Plus, if anybody would understand what it was like raising a daughter on her own, she would. I picked up the phone and dialed. If nothing else, it was at least worth a try.
My anxiety vanished when I heard her voice. She hadn’t changed one bit, and her joyful greeting brought me back to a time when I was unapologetically adored.
As we talked for a few minutes, I could tell that she wasn’t concerned about what had happened or even what was going on. Lorna just wanted to see me as soon as she could.
“Baby, call me back in a few hours,” she said. “I’ll need to take care of something first and then we will work it out, okay?”
After a couple of hopeful hours, I called her, and she told me that if I could just get back to New York, she’d be waiting for me at the airport. As I hung up the phone, I let out such a sigh of relief. This could be the best situation . . . a safe and secure place for me and the baby and, even greater, Lorna might just accept Jaye and even welcome him into her home.
A mass of cars and SUVs were jockeying for position alongside the arrivals pickup curb at LaGuardia Airport when I stepped outside the terminal. The cold November wind was piercing, making Susie burrow her cold nose into my neck. I scanned the cars, looking for Lorna’s green Chevy Malibu until finally I saw her inching her way past the double-parked cars and pulling up in front of us. She jumped out and ran around the car.
“Chrissy! It’s so good to see you, honey!” Her embrace felt like the warmest blanket as she wrapped her arms tightly around me and my daughter. Susie squirmed between us, trying to get a look at the unfamiliar face.
Lorna’s eyes were filled with tears as she stroked my face. “My pretty girl. Thank God . . . He brought you to me. Come, let’s get you and this precious one out of the cold.”
After getting settled in the car, we began the ride back to her home.
“Lorna, thank you so much for doing this for me. I don’t know what to say.”
While holding the wheel with her left hand, she reached over and patted my leg just like she used to do. “Never mind, honey. You do know that I have been praying for you, right?”
“Yes, Lorna. I know you love me. There’s so much I want to tell you. You probably don’t know the baby’s father. He was at the church for a short time. His name is Jaye. I really . . . um . . . hope you can meet him sometime soon.” I pretended to look out the window as she turned onto the exit ramp, but I was really sneaking a few glances at her profile to gauge her reaction.
“Sure, I will. Listen, honey,” her tone shifted. “I want you to know I called your father and told him that you contacted me. He did not agree with my decision to help you. But I asked him to allow me to care for you and the baby because it is what I feel God wants me to do. He said he would not try to stop me but insists that they will not help in any way.” She paused for a moment and looked at me, as though waiting for a response.
As troubled as I was by that information, I decided to dismiss it. With the history my parents and I had, they were likely to give in sooner or later.
Turning my attention back to Lorna, I responded, “Again, this is really kind of you to take us in like this. Things have been very difficult for me and I just don’t want the baby to—”
Before I could go any further, she jumped in. “Darlin’! We need to take good care of this little girl. This baby belongs to the Lord . . . and so do you. God hasn’t changed His mind about how He feels for you, you know.”
As Lorna said those words, everything became a blur to me. Pressing my forehead against the window, I thought, How do I tell her that I believe what she’s saying but can’t break free of this thing?
She must have sensed my stress because she gently ran her hand up and down my back. “So you must be really hungry. Are you ready to eat? I prepared your favorite! Curried chicken.” She chuckled when she heard my excited gasp.
“I also have some things for the baby that I picked up.”
“Oh, Lorna, you—”
“Now, never mind.”
The uneasiness about my parents and even being back in Brooklyn started to subside. Being in that car with Lorna was the dose of joy that I needed so badly.
That evening I was treated like a princess—served a delicious meal and encouraged to take a long, hot bath. As I lay on the soft queen-size bed that Lorna said would now be mine, I snuggled under a blanket, wearing cozy pajamas that she was sweet enough to buy me. With my arms behind my head and surrounded by a mountain of pillows, I studied the room, enjoying the blissful comfort while Lorna fed the baby in the kitchen.
Our conversation in the car started to replay over and over in my head. He did not agree with my decision to help you. He did not agree with my decision to help you.
I knew how much Dad and Mom loved me and just couldn’t imagine him really meaning what he’d said. Sure, they were repeatedly disappointed by my decisions, but their love was too strong to keep someone from helping me. I mean, what did I do to him that was so bad? I’ve been the one suffering, haven’t I? I continued to reason this out from my perspective. Why can’t they just accept this? I’m not twelve years old anymore. Why don’t they treat me like an adult?
The baby’s voice traveling from the kitchen caught my attention and redirected my thoughts. The sou
nds she made were happy, almost as if she were saying, “Mommy, thank you for bringing me to a home.”
Suddenly I envisioned my mom and dad sitting together, talking about their granddaughter and how badly they wanted to see her, to hold her. Then my vision started to change, and I saw them talking about how badly they wanted to take her from me since she was helpless and probably being mistreated. I quickly jumped up and scurried out to the kitchen.
“Hey Lorna, I hate to bother you with a favor, especially with all you’ve already done, but would you mind if I borrow your car tomorrow? I just thought I would drive home and try to talk to my parents. Maybe we could work this out.”
As Lorna looked up from the baby food jar in her hand, her brow wrinkled. “Umm . . . I don’t know if you should”—she shook her head, about to explain—“because . . .” She exhaled a resigned sigh, followed by a firm, “Okay. You can use the car.”
“Oh, thank you so much!” I exclaimed and returned to the cozy bedroom. I slept so peacefully that night with a full stomach, thrilled that my baby was finally sleeping in a real crib across the room.
The Brooklyn-Queens Expressway was moving unusually well for a weekday morning as I zigzagged between cars, anxious to get to Queens. Reminiscing along the route back home wasn’t at all what I expected it to be. A mixture of nervous excitement and stomach-churning dread began to build with each passing mile. It made me feel nearly sick, thinking about all the times I snuck out to go into the city, stealing my parents’ credit cards and lying about who I was with.
But then I thought about my baby in the car seat behind me, dressed so beautifully in a fancy outfit that Lorna had bought for her. Her hair was combed and I had put a lace band with a bow around her tiny head. Their hearts are going to melt when they see her. She is undoubtedly the ticket to win them over again. Surely they couldn’t let me go back to Lorna’s once they meet her.
Envisioning what it would be like to live at home again, I thought, They probably won’t have me and the baby sleep down in the basement. The bedroom up in the attic is so bright, with plenty of space for a crib to go next to my bed. Then again, they may just want to put the baby in the room next to them so that they can tend to her during the night for me. Regardless, once they’re with her, they are going to absolutely fall in love, and I’ll just reap the benefits.
My brain felt as though it were in a tennis match, bouncing back and forth, barraged by old memories that held me hostage for the rest of the ride. I cringed at everything I remembered that had happened between Brooklyn and Queens, all of which were driven by my destructive obsession.
Driving into the neighborhood, I was struck by a flood of warm memories. Images of my old, safe, love-filled world made me smile as I turned onto our street. The houses along the way were decorated with symbols of Thanksgiving—Indian corn, cornstalks, wooden painted turkeys—and multicolored leaves were blowing in the wind. I took a quick look at myself in the rearview mirror, pleased with the extra attention I’d paid putting myself and the baby together. The last thing I wanted was to give them the impression that my life choices had made me worn down and ragged.
Pulling the car into the driveway, I just stared up at the house. It felt like an eternity since I had last been there. With a nervous elation, I jumped out and rushed around to get the baby out of the car seat. As I pulled the hood of the little coat over her head and went to zip it up, the zipper caught in her dress. I leaned over to get a closer look and slid the zipper back in place, feeling little hands touching my cheek. Lifting Susie from the seat, I kissed her soft face.
The front of the house looked so beautiful with brightly colored mums in large planters framing the stairs leading to the doorway. Before I walked up the steps, I stopped and pointed them out to the baby and leaned over to let her touch them. Pulling open the screen with one hand, I rang the bell with the other, balancing Susie in one arm. As I waited, I peeked in the side window to see if Mom had put up the Christmas tree yet. I wonder who they’ve invited for Thanksgiving dinner next week?
Ringing the bell a few times with no answer, I looked back at the cars sitting in the driveway. That’s weird. Everyone’s home. I switched Susie to my other arm and onto my hip and knocked hard on the door. I waited, then I rang the doorbell a couple more times.
I was getting tired of standing there, so I slowly turned to go back down the steps.
What are they doing that they don’t hear the bell?
Halfway down the front steps, I froze.
Wait a minute. They did hear the bell.
Suddenly, I could barely stand. It was as if a violent tornado was bearing down on me and knocking me off my feet.
My parents were turning me away.
All the blood I had in my body seemed to rush to my feet within seconds. I held on to the railing with the baby hanging off my hip, shaken to the core. Overcome by an embarrassment I had never experienced before, I walked back down the driveway to the car. If they were looking at me through the window, there was no way I was going to let them see me break down. Though the shock was absolutely crippling, I pretended to be okay.
When I got inside the car, it took everything I had to keep from unraveling. Get it together, Chrissy. You can get through this. Closing my eyes and clenching my teeth, I held the steering wheel with a death grip. I took several deep breaths to calm down, then I began to rummage through my purse frantically to find my keys so I could get out of there.
I turned the key in the ignition, and the emotions I held in check began to escape in whimper-like cries as I looked over my shoulder to check if the driveway was clear. Just as I began to back up the car, a tap-tap-tap on the window startled me and my heart jumped into my throat. I threw the car into park and rolled down the passenger side window so my mom could lean in.
Her face was completely blank, and she said in a cool voice, “Where’s the baby?”
I stared at my mom, paralyzed by the shock of what had happened at the front door and now seeing her. “In the backseat,” I said in a small voice.
Without hesitating, Mom opened the back door and scooted in as close as she could to the baby.
Shifting in my seat, I caught the softening of her countenance as love filled her eyes. She held the baby’s fingers and whispered, “Hi. Hi, sweetheart.”
Her voice began to break. “You’re so precious, honey. I love you.” I felt a dagger go through me when I saw her showing such tender affection to my daughter, the same tenderness that had once been showered on me. Mom didn’t address me at all.
Finally I said with a slightly agitated tone, “Mom, what happened? Why didn’t you open the door?”
Without looking at me, she answered with the same cool tone. “Chrissy, your dad is done.”
Her words barely registered when I saw her lean in close to the baby’s face and take a deep breath, almost as if she was taking in Susie’s baby scent while kissing her gently on the face. After a moment, she leaned back, straightened up, and with a distant, fixed stare said, “And I’m done too. You’re not using this precious baby to manipulate us.”
In a heartbeat, my mom was gone, heading toward the house. As she disappeared inside, I felt like my heart had been ripped open. I couldn’t believe she had walked away from us.
THE SOUND OF CHRISTIAN MUSIC slipping under the door from the kitchen was fraying my nerves as I paced the bedroom floor. I was in a frenzy, almost hysterical. I wouldn’t have made it if Lorna hadn’t taken the baby from my arms when I walked in from that unbearable ride home. The expression on my mother’s face—I couldn’t shake it. My dad unwilling to see me was more than I could ever bear.
This can’t be for real, I thought as my gaze roamed wildly around the room. Hurt, angry, and devastated by my life, I wanted to grab the glass vanity set on the dresser and smash it into a million pieces. The pressure from everything began to build up, and it seemed the only way to release it would be to destroy something. The music on the other side of the wall was getting
louder as Lorna was singing along.
Something in me began to unravel as I replayed the sound track that wouldn’t stop taunting me: the eerie sound of the doorbell ringing over and over, the broken tone of my mother’s voice as she whispered to the baby in the backseat, my wailing on the way back to Lorna’s. With each step I took across the bedroom floor, I could feel the life seeping out of me, and a despair deeper than I had ever known began to set in.
In an attempt to distract myself from the oppressive chaos in my mind, I went to the corner of the room, picked up some of the baby’s clothes from the laundry basket, and began to fold them. I couldn’t stop my hands from trembling as I threw Susie’s pink romper on the bed and walked back to the dresser determined to pull myself together and get through the rest of the night. I stopped in front of my reflection in the mirror and heard that old familiar voice. You’ve become such a letdown of a person. You’re such a letdown that even your parents don’t want you. Standing there like a cornered animal, I had no choice but to listen.
My eyes flooded with tears that began to run down and fall on the dresser. As I stared in the mirror, all I could see was a waste of a life. My parents were right, yet I didn’t see any chance of my changing or getting free from my way of thinking. I was who I was now, and I hated that person.
As I looked away, my eyes spied the clock radio sitting beside the bed, offering an escape. Rushing over to it, I fumbled with the dial, trying to turn it on as quickly as possible so I could drown out the cries that were coming from deep within my bleeding heart. I turned it to the maximum volume, lay down on the bed, and curled up into a fetal position, wanting nothing more than to make myself small enough to disappear. Groan-like sobs continued to pour out as I rocked myself like a child seeking comfort. Beneath the blaring music my voice cried out, “Help my heart! Somebody please . . . help my heart!”
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