His head rested on my shoulder as he knelt into me. I could almost smell his pain and days of sweat permeated my space. When Ray finally did speak, his voice came out as a whisper.
“What did you say?” I asked softly, shifting my body into a more comfortable position.
“I’m sorry,” he replied, his voice raspy.
I sensed his tension. I caressed his back, hoping my touch would help soothe him.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” I asked. “You’re here.” I felt him relax against me. In his current state, I didn’t want to bring up our argument or the fact that he was missing without a trace for the past two days. We could deal with that later. All I wanted to do was make sure he was okay.
“Ray, please tell me what’s going on. I need to know if you’re okay.”
“I ain’t got nothing to say.” He stiffened up again.
I loosened my hold, pulling back so I could look at him. His head was lowered, almost at my level, but he avoided my gaze. I pulled back further and asked, “What do you mean you ain’t got anything to say?”
Ray backed away from me. He groaned as he stood up straight. “Ma, sometimes things happen, things you don’t need to know about. I need you to understand that.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Then why were you just hugged all up with me then? You want my support but you don’t want to talk. What’s up with that?”
He exhaled loudly and said, “I don’t need this right now. I’ve had it bad and now I just want to relax. Feel me?”
No, I don’t feel you, I thought. “Don’t you think I’d want to know why my man is in our house looking like he’s been fighting Roy Jones Junior after being gone for two days? I mean, you didn’t even call or anything.” I forced myself to maintain a low tone.
Ray looked down at me and said coldly, “I told you I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
I looked at him with the same intense stare and said, “And I told you that I need to know something.” I lowered my tone as a feeling rushed through me. “Ray, you aren’t in any danger, are you?”
Ray seemed to notice that I stopped scowling and tried to sound as concerned as I really was. He exhaled loudly as his shoulders relaxed. “Cristal, you don’t have to worry about a thing. Just know that what I do, I do for us.”
In an instant, my hot anger melted to warm feelings of love. I smiled, uncrossed my arms, and held them open again. “You can’t blame me for being worried about you . . . seeing you like this. But I’m going to trust you. If you say not to worry, then I’m not going to worry.”
Ray walked over to me and embraced me again. “Thanks, Ma,” he whispered, “That’s why I’m with you, because you understand me.”
I nuzzled against him. “What can I do for you? You want me to draw you a hot bath? Heat up something to eat? Whatever you want.”
Ray pulled me closer to him. His hands reached lower, from my waist to my butt. He reached inside my back jeans’ pockets. I could feel him against me.
“I wish we could . . .” Ray mumbled against my neck. He didn’t have to finish the sentence for me to understand what he wanted. Only a dude would come in from the storm, bearing the brunt of it, and still want to get some. I moaned, in spite of myself.
“But you’re hurt,” I said, concerned. I could never refuse him, but I didn’t want to cause him any more pain.
Ray grinded against me and said, “We could do it slow and gentle.”
Any other time, I would have already had most of my clothes off in a mad rush to beat Ray to the bedroom. Not that I had known a whole bunch of men, or anything, but I couldn’t imagine that the satisfaction Ray gave me was something any ordinary man could do. But something was wrong. Something beyond his bruised face. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was there, standing between us despite the closeness of our bodies.
“What’s this?” Ray asked. I was so deep in thought, I hadn’t realized that he had separated from me. I opened my eyes and noticed the card he held in his hands. The one I had put in my back pocket before I left Jam-Book-Ree!. Tristan Grant’s business card.
“What do you mean, what’s this?” I surprised myself with my defensive tone.
Ray flipped the card around and Tristan’s gold-embossed name flashed in front of me. “What the fuck is this?”
The tone in Ray’s voice made me step back. “What does it look like?” I asked cautiously.
“What it looks like is that you got a nigga’s number in your pocket. That’s what it looks like.”
I felt guilty even though I knew in my mind I had done nothing wrong. I held up my hands and shook my head. “Ray, it’s not what you think. I just saw Tristan when I was riding and . . .”
Ray flipped the card back around and stared at it. “Oh, you on a first name basis with this nigga?” he spat out.
Two questions flashed in my mind. First, why in the hell did I accept that business card? I couldn’t really be honest with myself on that one. And second, what were the chances that Ray would just happen to pluck the card out of my back pocket? Looking at the odds, it was one hundred percent.
I huffed. “You’re getting riled up over nothing. The dude sells real estate. You’ve been talking about getting into the house gig for a minute and I thought maybe . . .” I stumbled over my words.
“So now I can’t do shit on my own, right? I need some nigga up under me, someone you met, to give me a lift?” Ray flicked the card out of his hand. It fluttered in front of my face before dropping to the floor. “You think I don’t know how niggas think? You think he was trying to help me out? He was trying to get in with you. And I know your brain pad is large enough to know that.”
Damn, Ray had it on point, even though I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself. “You think I would jeopardize our relationship like that?” I pointed at his left eye. “Whoever did that must have knocked you in the head too many times ’cause you talking real crazy right now.”
Ray stared at me. I stared back. Maybe he was searching for the truth in my eyes. I can’t pretend to know. But in an instant I was in his arms again. His lips were against mine. His kiss was rough and passionless. I tried to push him away, but he resisted. He tried to force his tongue into my mouth, but I wouldn’t open it. His embraced tightened and he pressed his lips harder against mine. I wouldn’t yield.
Finally, his head rose, but he still didn’t release me. “Do you know what I go through for you? What I’m giving up?”
When I opened my mouth to speak, he lowered his head quickly and began kissing me again. This time, he forced my head back and drove his tongue inside my mouth. I tried to resist him, but I couldn’t. When he released me, my last chance to get way, I stayed there, our lips locked as he unzipped my jacket. I had on one of his wife beaters underneath my jacket. He reached for my tits, and heat spread through me as he began to tease my nipples. He then pushed the jacket over my shoulders. I heard a soft thud as it fell to the floor.
Ray pulled me closer and grinded against me. He gripped my shoulders and we began to move forward. I knew where he was leading me . . . the bedroom.
Once we entered the bedroom, he got more forceful. His tongue burned trails along my skin and his fingers dug into my shoulders. I couldn’t react. I didn’t join in on what he had in store for me. Instead, I was silent as he pushed me onto the bed, as he tore off the wife beater, and pulled off my pants.
I lay motionless with my eyes closed as his hands rubbed across my body. There was no passion in his actions. I felt no love. It felt like anger . . . pent-up anger. I tried to find the familiar pleasure in his foreplay, but I felt nothing.
I didn’t scream until he bit one of my tits. I tried to push him away, but he was too strong for me. As he bit me again, he reached for my face, pushed my head to the side.
“Ray, you’re hurting me,” I said, breathing rapidly. My pleading tone did not stop him. He stuck two fingers into my mouth. I knew he wanted me to suck on them, but I didn’t, a
t first. Then, he stuck his fingers deeper into my mouth. I had to close it in order to stop him. I reluctantly began to move my tongue around his fingers.
His teeth moved to my other tit. This time, he bit softly on my nipple and sucked at the same time. Electricity shot threw me and I arched against him. He groaned and grinded into me. Then he bit down hard again and I yelled out. He took his fingers out of my mouth and squeezed my tits together, biting and nibbling, making me pleasure and pain, and leaving me confused.
I exhaled loudly when he finally released my tits. His hands went lower and I realized he was pulling down his pants. His legs shifted on the bed as he pushed his pants lower. I could feel the cloth against my skin, as well as his arousal. One of his hands then traveled to the valley between my thighs. The other hand gripped my chin.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” Ray commanded, his voice deep and filled with lust.
I obeyed his command. The man I looked at, with the distorted and swollen eye, with the cut across his cheek, this was not the Ray I knew. I shut my eyes again.
“Look at me,” Ray hissed as he squeezed my chin.
I opened my eyes again. Ray stuck a finger inside of me. I fought to keep my eyes open. He used his thumb to rub against my clit. “Tell me I’m the only man for you,” he grunted out as his finger moved in and out of me.
I arched up. I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t speak. Ray released my chin and pressed his full weight on me. His head rested near my neck. “Tell me you love me,” he said before rising up again.
“Ray . . .” I began before he entered me. I screamed. His thrust was strong and forceful. Ray was big, and I wasn’t ready for him. Instead of the sweet pleasure I normally felt when our bodies united, I felt pain.
“Tell me you love me!” Ray yelled out as he thrust into me again.
There were no words. I screamed again and again as Ray moved in and out of me. Faster and faster. I felt like I was going to split in half. It felt like he was trying to transfer any pain he felt from his fight into me. He grabbed my legs and positioned them over his shoulders before diving into me again.
“Do you love me?” Ray asked.
“Yes!” I yelled over and over as he thrust into me.
“Tell me!”
Ray began to move faster and his grunts became louder. I held on as he pounded into me and my legs began to tremble. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he began to shake. I continued to hold him as his body released its lust.
Normally, Ray would lie on top of me after he came. But after he stopped shaking, he rolled off of me. I lowered my legs, which were already stiffening up. I opened my eyes. Ray rose from the bed and was pulling up his pants.
He looked at me as he dug into his pants pocket. “You know I love you, right?” he asked.
I nodded.
Ray pulled out a wad of cash. He pulled the rubber band off and peeled off a couple of bills. He threw them down on the nightstand.
“See, that nigga who gave you the card, that’s what he wants to do. Throw a little cash your way and get you in the bed. And he won’t care about making sure you get yours. He’ll just care about getting his off. See, he ain’t got no love for you like I do. All he got is lust.” Ray walked to the bedroom door. “Now you know what it’s like to get fucked. Not fun is it?” His eyes shifted to one of the bedroom windows and he frowned. “Don’t answer that, baby. Look, I’m going to leave and let you think for a couple of hours.”
I didn’t respond as Ray walked through our bedroom door. Instead, I curled into a ball, winced at the pain I felt, and let the tears fall freely.
Chapter Fifteen
But I stayed despite the pain . . .
Now I know what it’s like to be fucked. Those were the first words I wrote in my journal. Little did I know that first sentence wasn’t entirely true. I would later learn that there are different ways to get fucked. And most of those ways don’t feel so good.
But then, I couldn’t help but write about what had happened between me and Ray. I poured out my anger, my pain, and my disappointment into my journal. When Ray “fucked” me, something changed in our relationship. There was a shift in the wind. I thought about the problems we had in the past, like the “Bitch” letter, the late nights from time to time, mostly typical stuff that couples go through. I tried to figure everything out:
What happened to him? That beat down he got must have done something to him. But why is he taking it out on me? He should know me well enough to know that I would never mess around on him. Never. I mean, just because I know a nice-looking guy doesn’t mean I’m trying to jump in the bed with him. I know Ray goes to strip clubs and I never complain.
Mom told me that men have to be men and that you can’t fault them for wanting to look at tits and asses—every now and then—especially if they aren’t yours. She said, “As long as he’s coming home and not smelling funny, then you know all he’s doing is looking at asses and not touching them.” But something happened to him. Something bad. I wonder how I can find out. I wonder if I can talk to him about it without us arguing. I wonder . . . if I can ever truly forgive him for what he just did to me.
I fell asleep with the pen in my hand and my journal folded across my chest. I woke up to the smell of eggs, bacon, and the sound of Ludacris coming from somewhere outside of the bedroom. I opened my eyes and squinted. Sunlight filtered into the room through the mini-blinds. I had slept through the night. I pushed the journal off of my chest and onto the bed. When I tried to swing my legs off the bed, I grimaced in pain. The stiffness in my legs made them feel like they were dead . . . and rigor had set in.
I finally dragged myself out of our California king-sized bed. Something caught my eye. There was a sign posted on the door leading to the master bath. It read: COME INSIDE. I recognized the handwriting. It was Ray’s. I walked slowly into the bathroom. The scent of mango filled the air. I saw the Warm Spirit Mango soy candle votives on the counter. There were more of them lit around the bathtub, which was filled with water and rose petals. Soft jazz music played on the CD player we kept in the bathroom.
I laughed out, a short “HA.” I couldn’t help but be impressed by the efforts, but Ray was so obvious. Obviously, he knew he had been wrong, oh so wrong, the night before, and now he wanted to play ‘kiss and make-up.’ As I stared at the rose petal bath water, I decided I would take him up on a part of his offer.
The water was warm and soothing. My muscles began to relax immediately. Ray had drawn baths for me before, but this was a treat I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I laid my head back and let the music fill my mind and the warmth fill my body.
Just as I was really beginning to relax, I heard the door open. I didn’t open my eyes at first, taking in that last moment and holding it in sweet satisfaction.
“Hey, baby,” Ray said, “I see you found your bath.”
I opened my eyes. Ray was standing there with a tray in his hands. His left eye was still swollen, but it didn’t look as bad as it did yesterday. I could also still see the bruising on his face. He smiled and walked up to the tub.
“How are you doing? Everything okay? Water warm enough for you?” Ray asked the questions so fast that I couldn’t respond to them even if I wanted to. I saw the apology in his eyes, but he would say the words before I would even begin to think about forgiving him.
I shifted in the tub, and the warm water flowed around my body. Rose petals were sticking to my skin. I waited for Ray to speak again.
“I know you must be pissed at me, Crystal,” he said.
My eyes flew open. In all the years that I had known Ray, he never pronounced my name properly. He always called me “Cristal” or “Ma” or “Baby.”
Ray walked up to the tub and said, “I don’t know what got into me last night. I was just so frustrated and when I saw that dude’s card, I . . .” He paused and inhaled deeply before continuing. “Look, I know didn’t treat you right. I’m sorry.”
The magic words. Out of his mouth. He sounded as if he meant it. Those words. I’m sorry. I thought they would make me feel better, but they didn’t.
“Did you hear me?” Ray asked. When I didn’t respond, he said, “I am sorry, Crystal. I got so much pressure on me, but I should have come to you for support, not treated you like some trick off the curb.” He was practically pleading. “I heard you,” I said, my voice raspy from my screams from the night before.
I could see the relief in his eyes. He relaxed and knelt down. “Look, baby, I’m gonna make it up to you. This bath here is only the beginning.” He knelt down further and held out the tray he held in his hands. “I even made you breakfast.”
I sat up in the tub and looked at the tray. There were scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, along with cut strawberries and a glass of water. All of the food was neatly arranged on the tray.
“You made all this?” I asked in disbelief. I had never seen Ray even boil water.
“Ya boy got skills. You always ordering and heating up stuff, so I never had to use them.”
“In three years?” I asked.
Ray shrugged his shoulders. “Cooking breakfast ain’t that hard.”
“Hmmm.” I stared at the plate again, knowing I couldn’t scramble an egg even if I wanted to.
“So, are you going let me feed you?” he asked.
“What?”
Ray held up a fork. “I want to feed you.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You always got questions, don’t you? Why not relax and let me take care of you.”
Ray had never fed me before. The fact that he wanted to let me know just how sorry he was.
I stared down at the water and said, “I’m still in the tub.”
Ray frowned. “I can still feed you.”
I shook my head. “Not in here.”
“Well, are you going to get out? I don’t want the food to get cold.”
I stared down at the water again. I really didn’t want to get out, but the rumbling in my belly let me know how hungry I was.
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