Sammie crawled out of bed, favoring her right side where he had kicked her the previous day. She shuffled down the hall, bumping into the wall occasionally but Jessie did not notice. His pants were unzipped when she arrived in the room.
“Suck on this, bitch,” he said, pointing to his near flaccid dick. Sammie shuddered in revulsion. She had no idea where his dick had been over the past few months since he never touched her anymore. Hell, she wondered where it had been in the past few hours.
“I need to wash my face and brush my teeth,” she said, trying to avoid looking at his limp dick.
“You don’t need winter-fresh breath to suck on big daddy,” he snarled, pulling it up to make it appear longer than it was. She stalled to think of another excuse as to why she couldn’t put it in her mouth.
Realizing that she was stalling, he barked out his command, “On your knees, bitch,” raising his right hand in a tight fist. Sammie dropped to her knees, landing on a pin. The pain from it caused her to jump right up. Jessie took her actions to be another act of defiance and slapped her in the back of her head. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her head into his crotch.
She clearly smelled the scent of another woman and she nearly threw up the remaining contents of her stomach. He held on tightly to her hair as he ground his dick into her mouth. Slowly his dick grew in measure and with it his cries of pleasure. Salty tears flowed in her mouth as she choked on his stank dick.
“Climb up on daddy,” he demanded as he guided her by the roots onto his dick. Luckily for her, he exploded before she could lower herself completely onto him. The entire episode lasted two minutes but to Sammie, it seemed like two hours. He pushed her away in disgust and she went into the bathroom to sanitize her mouth and cried for what seemed like an eternity.
Jessie nodded off without bothering to re-zip his pants. His dreams were filled of erotic images of Sammie performing sex on other people while he watched. When he woke several hours later, he had jacked off again in his sleep as was evidenced by the dried semen on his hands.
This began a completely different dimension in Sammie’s life as far as Jessie was concerned; he fully realized that he enjoyed watching Sammie have sex with other people and he spent a lot of time finding different mates for her. Man or woman, it really doesn’t matter, Jessie thought.
For the next several weeks, Sammie made a lot of money but Jessie spent more. She became the freak of the week and actually started to enjoy performing on some primitive level. This was the only physical contact that she received and she learned to relish it. On occasion, Jessie would join in, while playing with his dick but mostly he just watched and collected the monies.
Afterwards, when they were alone, he would start an argument with her just to get out of the house which suited Sammie just fine. He would call her a whore and other degrading names. At the time, Sammie did not know he was using that as a ploy so he could leave to go and get high, but that information would come out soon enough.
Sammie would sit there with tears streaming down her face as she listened to him rant and rave, rarely bothering to defend herself.
“Look at you. You miserable fat fuck! Wipe your damn nose. I don’t want to have to look at that nasty shit,” Jessie would yell.
Sammie used the hem of her shirt to wipe her face. She did not want to make Jessie mad by leaving the room. She just never knew what particular action would cause him to strike out at her.
“Goddamn, you’re so disgusting! Get off your fat ass and go wash your face,” he demanded while pulling back his leg as if he might kick her.
Quickly, she stumbled down the corridor, blinded by a fresh wave of tears. Deep down she believed the things Jessie said about her to be true. When she reached the bathroom, she ran water in the sink trying to control the racking of her shoulders as she gave in to her emotions. She used the balled-up washcloth to smother the sound of her crying. Jessie didn’t much care that she cried; in fact, he liked it. He just didn’t want to have to hear it. He knew that as long as she cried, she was afraid and he wanted to keep her that way.
After a few moments, she walked back into the room, sat on the edge of the bed and watched while he got dressed. He was such a particular dresser who fussed about every wrinkle and crease. When he bothered to take her out, he took more time to get dressed than she did. He would never allow her to iron his clothes preferring to have them drycleaned and laundered, regardless of the cost.
“Why in the hell are you staring at me like that?” he snarled. The very sound of his voice snapped her out of her reflections and back into the present. She turned her gaze to look at him through the mirror on the dresser. She wanted to keep an eye on him in case he planned on sneaking in a punch.
“Nothing,” she said, uttering the first thing that came to her mind. Unfortunately, it was the wrong thing to say. Jessie quickly crossed the room and kicked her in the knee. Sammie was too stunned and afraid to cry out.
“So, Bitch, I’m nothing now? I wasn’t nothing when I took your ass in, you pathetic piece of shit! You aren’t even a mother to your own fucking children!” he snapped back at her.
Sammie’s head rocked back as she raised her eyes from the floor to look him in the face. This was the first time he had acknowledged that he knew that she had children. All this time, she thought she had succeeded in deceiving him. She had not wanted to lie about being a mother, but her own mother convinced her that if she told Jessie the truth about her having kids, he would not want her. The intense shame she felt started another wave of emotions inside of her. This time she was not crying from her physical pain. Now she was crying for her motherless children.
“Bitch, don’t look so surprised! I’ll bet your dumb ass thought I was stupid enough to believe those kids belong to your ignorant ass mother!” He spat those words directly in Sammie’s face, spraying her with spittle as he emphasized each word by poking his finger in her face. Fresh mucus ran from her nose and landed on Jessie’s fingers. He promptly punched her in the eye, causing her to fall off the bed and land on the floor.
Jessie thought this was funny and burst into laughter. His reaction seemed to have ended a tense situation for Sammie. Normally, when she landed on the floor, Jessie would either stick his dick in her mouth or kick her. She was not in the mood to bear either that night. Now, instead of wanting him to stay with her, she could not wait for him to leave.
He paused at the door and threw his final dagger for the night. “And, if I didn’t know those crumb snatchers were yours, your mother made sure that I knew before I married your sorry ass! She didn’t want you to come back to her when I kicked your fat ass out! She said you fucked up your life and she would be damned if she let you fuck up theirs, too.” He shut the door before Sammie could react to his remarks. Not that she would have done anything. It was Jessie’s way of saying, “Take that, bitch” and Sammie understood that all too well.
Sammie crawled over to the bed and pulled herself up. She was sobbing so hard she could barely lift herself up. She tried to think back to the times when she was happy with Jessie, but those memories refused to surface. She finally realized that he was only nice to her before they got married. She also acknowledged that after she said, “I do,” he started treating her like shit.
“Lord, it’s me again. Please don’t place me on ignore. I am drowning here and am in need of some help. God, I know I have made some mistakes but I don’t think I deserve all this!” she said, pounding on the mattress and adding more streaks of blood to the tousled bed. “Please God, help me! Tell me what to do ’cause I’m lost.”
She collapsed on the bed in a fit of tears, further soaking the ruined sheets. God did not answer her that night. She’d never felt so completely alone in her life.
It was the ultimate betrayal. She now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her mother truly despised her. Why else would she have told Jessie the truth about a lie she conjured up. The only problem was that she didn’t know why. Sammie wanted to go
claim her children since she was beyond legal age, but she knew that Jessie would never agree to that. Feeling hopeless, she drifted off to sleep.
Sammie awoke to the ringing of the phone. She groped for it without opening her eyes. Since she did not hear Jessie come back home, she assumed he was still out and grabbed the phone.
“Hello,” she mumbled into the handset and immediately thrust the phone away from her ear. Her mother Althea’s scaly voice was screeching on the other end.
She belched. “Sammie needs to come home.”
“For what?” Jessie cut in, ignoring the fact that Sammie was also on the line.
Sammie sucked in her breath. Damn, he’s back, she thought, shaking in fear. She wanted to tell her momma that she needed to come home, too, but was scared of what Jessie would do. She wanted to talk to her daddy who she knew would protect her.
“Her father died. She has to be here for the reading of the will next week,” Althea declared.
“When did Daddy die?” Sammie uttered, shocking both Jessie and Althea since they both assumed she had hung up.
Sammie would not dare answer the phone if Jessie was home, and he was pissed that she did so now.
“That old buzzard has been dead about six months. Get your lazy ass down here so we can finalize this shit,” Althea exclaimed, speaking directly to Sammie.
However, Sammie had dropped the phone. Her father, the only person that ever loved her, was dead and she hadn’t even known it. Hot tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She didn’t even know that Althea had their phone number and now, after all this time, she was calling to tell her that her daddy was dead. Sammie cursed both Jessie and Althea under her breath. She even cursed her dad for leaving her. Her heart and head felt like they were about to burst.
Dismayed, Sammie thought, There is no one left on the face of the earth that cares whether I live or die!
Sammie knew that Jessie would not let her go home and this really hurt her heart. She needed to say goodbye to the only man that had ever loved her.
Sammie went back to sleep. The pain of Jessie pinching her breast awakened her. “Pack, bitch, we’re leaving.” She eased up off the bed, allowing him to maneuver her body in the direction he was pulling her nipples. She looked around to see what needed to be done. Since they did not own any of the furniture they only had to pack their clothes.
Sammie did not ask Jessie any questions. She went to the closet and removed their suitcases. This was their third move since arriving in California and she just assumed they were moving again to avoid paying rent. She had completely forgotten the earlier phone conversation she had overheard with her mother.
She didn’t realize that they were headed to Atlanta until they hit the highway. “Oh shit,” she exclaimed both excited and scared.
Chapter 8
It was August of 1995 when the kids and I moved to Atlanta. I was thirty years old with two small children; Keira was six and Kevin was four. We arrived around lunchtime with little fanfare after the untimely death of my father and the recent separation from my husband of eight years. Although Momma appeared to be happy to see me, our relationship was strained. In my heart, I didn’t feel like she fully supported me in my decision to divorce my husband Keith.
I arrived in a U-Haul truck loaded with a bunch of junk I hastily threw together to make the thirteen-hour trip from Baltimore. I immediately placed my belongings into storage and moved in with Momma. I wanted to move closer to her after Dad had suffered a fatal heart attack. It was so sudden and we were both so grief stricken that neither of us wanted to be alone.
“Hey, sugar,” Mom said when she answered the door. Loaded down with suitcases and children, I felt like a young kid again instead of a grown woman coming to live with her. In addition to “moving back home” syndrome, I was bringing home two small children.
“Grandma!” Keira and Keith yelled in unison, throwing themselves against her legs. She bent and hugged them both, smothering their faces with kisses. I kissed her on the cheek and squeezed past her to put down my bags. I didn’t realize that I would feel like such a failure crawling home to Mom but I could not deny the heavy knot I felt in my chest. Although my life would not be classified as a dismal failure, there was something very demeaning about moving home even if it was with the best intentions.
This was only my third visit to Atlanta since Mom and Dad moved from Baltimore three years earlier. Dad only had two more years to work before he could retire and they wanted to move to Atlanta for the warmer climate. Mom had already retired on a medical disability and Dad died one month before his retirement party. We still had the unsent invitations.
When I made the trip for his funeral, I could still feel and smell his presence in the house. I kept looking for him to be seated at his computer, which was his favorite spot. As I looked around my “temporary home,” it was missing Dad’s familiar scent of peppermint. Fresh tears welled in my eyes and I tried to conceal them from my mother.
“It’s okay, baby,” she said as her own tears slid down her full cheeks. “It will take some getting used to but we will be okay,” she assured me.
I wanted to bury my face in her chest and demand answers to all of life’s questions, which had plagued me since Daddy died. I quickly brushed away my tears, hoping to change the mood.
For the first time since I walked through her door, I really looked at her face. It was pinched and I could tell that she had been crying a lot longer than the few seconds I had just witnessed. I understood why but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. My dad was very special to me and to her. He was the only man that my mother had ever known in the physical sense, and she was having a tough time adjusting to life on her own.
“Momma, you’ve been crying a lot; it is written all over your face,” I said, fighting back my own tears again. She hung her head but did not acknowledge my comment.
“How are we going to be any use to each other when we can’t stop crying?” I asked, feeling like my heart would break. I just hated to see my mother cry.
“I don’t have any answer for that,” she said. That scared me even more because Luetta had an answer for every damn thing whether you liked it or not. And for the ninety-nine-thousandth time, I thought I had made a mistake by moving in with her.
I don’t know what delusion I had fed myself to make me think things would be easier for her if I came, but in retrospect, I gave myself too much credit. I was not the balm Momma needed to heal her aching heart. Time and only time would heal her, not me. Shit, how was I going to be a pillar of strength for her when I could not hold my own shit together! Although my heart was pure at the time it was suggested, I could not help but think that together we would feed on each other’s grief.
“Mom, was this a good idea?” I finally asked the question, and was afraid of the answer. It wasn’t as if I would turn around and move back home if she said no but I had to voice my concern.
“It’s all good,” she said and smiled as she wiped the tear smudges from her face. “You and I will still have our moments but these two will bring us through,” she said, pointing to Keira and Kevin. They squealed with joy and flung themselves at Momma’s knees again.
“All good? You trying to get hip on me, Momma?” I asked, smiling. I chuckled and walked into the dining room.
Mom was right. Children do tend to take your mind away from everyday problems, especially when they are as young as Keira and Kevin. It was when they got older that they became another source of emotions. Keira and Kevin really didn’t get to know Dad all that well. Sure, they visited at least twice a day but they left Baltimore when they were so young! That’s one thing about children; they forget very quickly.
My heart was still heavy about Dad since we had just recently mended our broken fences and I felt cheated that he died so soon afterwards. I don’t think he ever forgave me for marrying Keith. He wanted so much more for his only daughter and he knew that our marriage wouldn’t last. I could not even comprehend my mothe
r’s misery. Dad was the only man that she was ever with.
In a way, my separation from Keith happened at the best possible time. I was able to sever my ties in Baltimore and move to Atlanta to be closer to Mom just in case she needed me. On the flip side, she would be able to help me if and when I succumbed to the deep depression I felt when I acknowledged my failed marriage and the fact that I was now a single mom.
I carried my bags to the guest room that I had occupied just a few short weeks ago for my Dad’s funeral and returned to the kitchen. The children were having cookies and milk and Luetta was enjoying the moment.
“This is good!” I said, gently massaging Mom’s shoulders. She reached up and put her hand over mine.
“Yes, it is.” I kissed her again on the cheek as I grabbed my own cookie.
“How was the drive?” she asked. “And where is your friend?”
“His name is Dennis, Mom, and he went to get a hotel room,” I said, not wanting to answer too many questions about how I knew Dennis.
“I thought he was going to stay here?” Mom replied, her tone revealing her relief and regret that he was not.
“He wanted to get some rest and he knew he would not be able to with these energized bunnies,” I said, looking at my kids lovingly. “Mom, you should have seen them. They bounced around that truck all down the highway, and didn’t take a nap until we turned off on your exit ramp. I thought they would talk us into a coma. And if that wasn’t enough, they got into this ‘stop touching me’ argument that lasted for at least 250 miles,” I said, laughing as I remembered the expression on Dennis’ face after the first two hours.
“So, where did you meet this Dennis?” Mom asked slyly while playing with a lone cookie crumb left on the table.
Here we go, I thought. Damn, I knew it wouldn’t be long before she started to dip into my business.
All That Drama Page 4