by Bobby Love
When I opened my eyes, I looked around our tiny kitchen and thanked God for that too. Our apartment wasn’t that big, but at least we were finally in a stable home. It’d been five years with Bobby out of full-time work, getting evicted from one place after another, even having to go to that shelter up in the Bronx for one night. It was humiliating and painful for our family. Especially for the kids. Jasmine was so mad at Bobby for letting our finances get so bad, I think that was the night she decided she was moving out for good. “You’re always telling us we have to take care of our business, Daddy,” she’d said. “And look at you now.”
That was one of our lowest moments, but it didn’t break us. And even though I hated to see our eldest daughter leave home, I was happy she had a safe place to land: with her fiancé, Rich. They seemed so happy together, and now, four years later, Jasmine was expecting her first child. Just thinking of Jasmine becoming a mother and me becoming a grandmother made me smile as I sipped my tea.
On the outside, I knew our family looked like we were doing okay, but we weren’t. I was the only one with a steady paycheck, while Bobby juggled side hustles, the occasional lottery win, and borrowing money from family members. But even when we couldn’t pay the rent, we always made sure the kids had what they needed for school and their extracurricular activities. Bobby insisted on that. He didn’t want our children to suffer because of his failings. That’s why, even though he wasn’t working, Bobby poured more time into doing things with the boys. He started coaching Jordan’s football team and Justin’s baseball team and did so for years. When the twins were in middle school, Bobby was the parent who would pick them up after school and go to all of the parent-teacher conferences when they were scheduled during the daytime and I couldn’t get off work. Bobby did most of the cooking and shopping too. I knew I had a good husband. So what was I praying about? Why was I asking for God to intervene in my marriage?
It wasn’t only that we were barely making it financially, living check to check, or that Bobby had fallen from a ladder and had broken his femur bone and now walked with a slight limp. It was that after all these years, I still felt like my husband was keeping a part of himself away from me.
The kids said Daddy just liked being alone. My family members thought Bobby was just a solitary type. My friend Deena called him arrogant. And I knew he was all of those things, but I didn’t understand why he had to close himself off to me. His wife! Earlier in our marriage, I thought maybe Bobby was hiding something, like another woman or even another family, but I never saw any evidence that he was cheating, and he would always assure me that he was committed to me and to our children. Plus, Bobby was always working two jobs, so there was no way he would have time to cheat. But now that he wasn’t working, save for a few odd jobs here and there, he still wasn’t any better at opening up or telling me what he was feeling or thinking. In fact, after he got fired, I think he closed himself off even more. But my anguish didn’t start with Bobby’s lack of employment. It was deeper than that.
My friends thought I was crazy when I’d try to explain what I felt was wrong with our marriage, because I couldn’t put it into words right. I couldn’t say, “My husband refuses to have his picture taken and doesn’t have any friends,” and expect sympathy. Those were just some of his quirks I’d gotten used to, but it was all part of the reason I felt so frustrated.
“Does he beat you?” one friend asked.
“No,” I’d say.
“Is he cheating on you?” another one would ask.
“No.”
“Does he help out around the house and with the kids?”
“Always,” I’d answer truthfully. “He’s always been a good dad to the kids.”
“Then what are you complaining about?” they’d say, exasperated.
But I was the one exasperated, because I couldn’t pin down what the problem actually was other than the fact that, after almost thirty years of marriage, I felt like my husband still didn’t trust me. I felt like he was hiding something from me, but I didn’t have any solid proof other than a gut feeling and my recurring dream. This dream that had woken me up yet again. I sighed because I knew I wasn’t going to figure out any answers at 6:00 in the morning. So I gulped down the rest of my tea and went to wake up the boys.
A few days later I was at my desk at work. After making the dramatic decision to join AmeriCorps at age thirty-seven, after working random office jobs for years, I had found a career that I loved, working for a social service agency as a nutrition coordinator. I worked for the organization during my AmeriCorps volunteer year, and my boss said she wasn’t willing to let me go when my year of service was up. It was my job to help women and families navigate the food stamp and Medicaid system and help them get on their feet after falling on hard times. I really liked helping these women, and I loved my co-workers. After being there for close to eleven years, I felt we were almost like a family. I could also walk to work from our apartment, which was an added benefit.
The phone rang. “Hello, this is Cheryl. May I help you?”
It was Jasmine on the other end of the line. “Oh, hi, Jas,” I said, trying to block out the noise from around the office, people talking and the constant buzz of phones ringing. “How ya doing?”
“I’m okay, Mommy,” she said, and then she said something else, but there was so much noise around me I really didn’t hear what she was saying. That morning I was in charge of taking all the incoming calls to the office, so I made some kind of positive response and tried to hurry Jasmine off the phone.
“Well, I’m at the hospital now,” Jasmine said. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Okay, honey. Well, I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m on front desk, so I can’t talk right now. Call me later when you’re done with your appointment.”
And then I hung up.
Ten seconds later, the phone rang. It was Jasmine again.
“Mommy, did you hear what I said?” Jasmine yelled into my ear. She knew I hadn’t really been listening. “I’m in the hospital and I’m having the baby now!”
“Oh, my goodness! Lord have mercy!” I hollered. “Jasmine, I’m on my way, baby!” And then I sprang into action. I stood up and announced, “Listen, y’all! I got to go, I’m sorry. I know I have appointments, but my daughter’s in the hospital. She’s going to have my first grandbaby!”
The room erupted into applause, and people were cheering and congratulating me. My supervisor, Ramona, told me she’d handle my appointments as I gathered my things and headed for the door. Before I walked outside, I called Bobby to share the good news and to tell him to meet me at the subway entrance so we could ride up to the hospital together.
“They don’t need us to go up there, Cheryl,” Bobby protested.
If I could have reached through the phone and snatched him up, I would have. Instead I said, “Listen, you better be at that station when I get there, Bobby. This is our first grandchild.”
“Okay, Cheryl. I’ll be there,” Bobby said.
I refused to let his attitude ruin this moment for me, but it seemed to be his perpetual state these days. Ever since he’d gotten fired from IAD, Bobby had slipped into a funk that we couldn’t shake him out of.
Bobby didn’t really have any friends that I could ask to help cheer him up. He liked to hang out with my brother Scott, but Scott and his wife had moved down to Atlanta, so that wasn’t an option. Bobby had finally started going to church more often, now that he couldn’t use work as an excuse, but it hadn’t made him open up to me at all. I think the only time I saw Bobby really happy and open was when he was with his family in North Carolina. I had gone down there with him two or three times, and the difference was clear. When Bobby was with his siblings, he just seemed to light up and let go. Those were rare occasions that I witnessed.
Bobby had traveled to Greensboro a couple of times without me as well over the years. He would make excuses about why he preferred for me not to go with him. He would tell me that his fam
ily was always acting crazy and he didn’t want me to see that. It felt like he wanted to keep his New York family separate from his Greensboro family, so after a while, I just stopped asking him to take me with him when he went down there.
When Bobby and I got to the hospital, we only had to wait about two hours before our grandson, Levi, was born. He was round and brown like his father, and Jasmine looked so happy and proud. There is something magical about seeing your firstborn become a mother. Even Bobby couldn’t stop smiling, looking at that little boy. I was glad I made him come with me, and we both laughed and talked like we used to on the way home that night, remembering the night Jasmine was born and how I had been such a mess, screaming and hollering, forgetting all of my breathing techniques that we’d learned in our birthing classes.
“You did all right, Cheryl,” Bobby said, smiling at the memory. “I mean, look at how well Jasmine turned out.”
“Yeah,” I said, remembering those early days we were together when our future had looked so bright. “I think I was a lot calmer with Jessica.”
“You were,” Bobby said. “You had motherhood in the bag by then.”
When we got home, Bobby and I had a simple dinner and went to bed. Before I went to sleep, though, I thanked God for a blessed day.
* * *
A few months later, instead of celebrating a new life, we learned that Bobby’s brother Leroy had died. Even though Leroy was ten years older than Bobby, the few times Bobby mentioned this brother, it was with fond memories. Bobby didn’t talk about his childhood that much, but I knew he loved his brothers and sisters, so I was prepared to help him get through this loss. I was already calculating how many days I could take off work in order to go down to North Carolina with Bobby for the funeral. I was also trying to figure out whom I could get to stay with the boys, since Jessica worked nights. Because they were in high school, I didn’t want the twins to miss any classes. But then Bobby told me he didn’t want me to come.
“What do you mean, you don’t want me to come?” I said.
“It’s a funeral, Cheryl,” Bobby said. “Why would you want to come down there? I’m going to be helping out with everything, running around doing this and that. You wouldn’t have anything to do.”
“But I’m your wife, Bobby. I’m supposed to be there for you. And for your family.”
Bobby brushed off my concern. “Cheryl, you don’t need to bother. I can handle everything. I’ll be fine. You stay here with the boys.”
I know I should have been used to this by now, Bobby keeping me away from Greensboro, away from his family, but it still hurt that he didn’t want me to come with him. I already figured his family didn’t like me that much. The few times I had been down there, they were polite and kind, but they always seemed a little standoffish with me. I got the distinct impression that there was something about me they didn’t approve of. But I didn’t understand what it was. Even when I called him Bobby, they exchanged funny looks with each other. I figured they wanted me to call him Buddy like they all did, but it just felt too weird to me.
“Okay, Bobby,” I said quietly. “If you don’t want me to come to the funeral, I won’t come.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to come, Cheryl.” Bobby tried to make it sound better. “I just don’t need you to come. Besides, why should we spend any extra money on a bus ticket for you too?”
I couldn’t argue with that. Bobby was still waiting on the settlement money his lawyer had promised he’d get from his accident falling off the ladder and breaking his leg. He had hired one of those lawyers off the TV that promised fast money if you were the victim of an accident. Well, that accident had happened in 2012. It was now 2014, and we hadn’t seen a penny. In fact, Bobby had had to take out a loan against the settlement just to pay the rent and some money we owed for other bills. He didn’t have to tell me twice that it made no sense for me to go to the funeral with him. From a financial standpoint, I had to agree. So instead of going down to Greensboro with Bobby, I just ended up helping him pack and made him a bag lunch to take with him on the bus.
While Bobby was down in North Carolina, I called my sister. I tried to act like I was just calling for one of our usual sister chats and to check on my father, who had recently moved down to Atlanta. Daddy had been living alone since he and Estelle separated for good in 2000, but he was growing increasingly forgetful and was worrying all of us kids. He now lived with my brother who had also moved down south, but Sis would check on him when she could. She caught me up on the latest about Daddy, but she could tell right away that I wanted to talk about something else.
“What’s the matter, Cheryl?” she said.
“I don’t know, Sis,” I started. “It’s Bobby.”
“Oh, Lord,” she said. “What’s he done now? Do you need money or something?”
“It’s not that,” I said.
“So what is it?” Sis asked.
I told her that Bobby was at his brother’s funeral and he hadn’t wanted me to come.
“Do you think that’s normal?” I asked. “I mean, I’m his wife. Shouldn’t I be at the funeral with my husband?”
“Cheryl,” Sis started. “You know Bobby is his own person and he does things his way. He thinks that he’s in charge and you’re just supposed to do what he says.”
My big sister thought Bobby married me because I was so much younger than him and that meant he could boss me around, but that wasn’t what concerned me. “Sis, I can stand up for myself,” I said. “Bobby thinks he’s the boss, but I do what I want to do too. Remember when I used my AmeriCorps money to take acting classes? Bobby didn’t want me to do that, but I did it because it was something I’d wanted to do since I was in the fifth grade.”
Sis laughed at the memory. “Yeah, you were the oldest one in that class, too—fifty years old, trying to be an actress.”
“Hey,” I said, laughing myself. “Those classes really help me with my job now when I have to make presentations. And they were fun.”
“Yeah, but did Bobby come to your final performance, or did Daddy? Who was there to support you?”
“Daddy,” I said, sighing. “Daddy has always been there for me and the kids.” And that was the problem. My father had been such a kind, loving man to my mother and to me, it was hard for me to be with Bobby and not see the same kind of openness and affection I’d seen between my parents.
“Cheryl, you told me once that you were ready to walk out of the marriage, but you stayed. Why did you stay?”
I thought back to that time before the twins were born, when I was so frustrated that Bobby would shut down and never share his true thoughts and feelings with me. But after praying on it and then having a dream where my mother appeared to me to tell me everything would be okay, I decided to stay. The twins were born soon after that, and things did seem to get better. But then once he lost his job, everything that had been bad just seemed to get worse.
I said all that to my sister. “I just don’t know what to do, Sis.”
“I think you need to pray on it again, Cheryl,” my sister said. “Ask God to show you the path you’re supposed to take. But remember, Cheryl, what you want matters too. You are smart and your opinion counts in all things.”
“Thanks, Sis,” I said, and I meant it.
Talking to my sister always made me feel better. Without her, my godmother, and my godsisters, there’s no way I would have been able to deal with all of the challenges in my marriage and not lose my mind. My family and my church family really kept me grounded and lifted up through all these years, but even their love and wise words weren’t always enough. I was reaching what felt like a breaking point.
By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around at the end of 2014, I was no closer to knowing what I wanted from Bobby, from our marriage, or anything. I just knew I needed something different in the new year. I felt like a dam had been built around our relationship, but the water behind it was steadily building up and was about to crash t
hrough the walls.
“Honey, do you want to come to watchnight service with me and the kids?” I asked Bobby, already knowing he was going to say no, yet still hoping for a miraculous yes.
“Nah, Cheryl,” Bobby said. “You guys go on without me.”
Jasmine was going to church with her husband and his family, so it was me, Jessica, and the twins who got dressed up and took a cab to the church that night.
As the minister preached his sermon, telling us all to lay down our burdens from the past year and to set our sights on the year to come, I started to cry and I couldn’t stop. Jessica kept looking at me like I was crazy, but I just couldn’t control the emotion that was pouring out of me. It was like that dam broke, right there during the final minutes of 2014, and I could not stem the flow of tears.
That night I went to sleep feeling so drained, but also knowing that 2015 was going to bring a world of difference to our lives. I didn’t know what was coming, but I knew some kind of change was on its way. It had to be, because I couldn’t live the way we were living anymore. I couldn’t live with a husband who couldn’t open up to me and share his full heart and true soul.
Only a few weeks later, in mid-January of 2015, as I was sitting in the kitchen sipping my morning tea, a violent knock on the door brought the change I had asked for.
chapter nine
No More Secrets
* * *
CHERYL
Bobby’s lawyer’s name was Erica Valdez. She was an attractive woman who I guessed had to be in her mid-forties. My memories are fuzzy about everything that went on that day when we first met her, the day after Bobby was arrested. Whether she wore a skirt or pants. Whether Jasmine and I were in her office for a few minutes or an hour. Everything that she said about Bobby was a blur, except when she said they were going to send Bobby back to North Carolina for a crime he’d committed more than forty years before. That they were going to make him finish serving his sentence.