200 Letters

by Amy Watkins

  Next, I called Ricky. He was concerned with my wellbeing. He confirmed Heaven’s story. None of the family had known that I was in jail. He found out the day I was released because Naomi called him frantic, worried that Angela had set me up and was holding me hostage. Naomi gave Ricky Angela’s address and phone number and asked him to get someone to go to the house and threaten Angela so that she would let me go.

  Ricky knew something was fishy, so he called Angela right away. He could tell when Angela answered the phone that she was innocent. So, he left it alone.

  Ricky also informed me that Quentin had been trying to get in contact with me. He tried to go through Naomi and Caroline, but they claimed that they didn’t know where I was and that they were worried Angela was holding me against my will. Ricky gave me Quentin’s number and told me to call him.

  I was already mad when I went back to the house, but what happened next really pissed me off.

  “Who the fuck you talking to?” Caroline yelled and tried to grab my phone.

  “Who the fuck you think you talking to like that?” I yelled back.

  Caroline wagged her finger in my face, “You better not be talking to your punk ass brother or that bitch Angela. They don’t want anything to do with you or us. They didn’t do a damn thing for you while you were in jail.”

  I’d had it. “You know what? I’m ’bout sick of all your lies. I looked at my bank accounts. I know you took all my money. I know you called Angela and harassed her; that’s how you knew I was coming. I know that the family never knew I was in jail ‘cause I talked to Heaven already. And I know the family is against you; not me.”

  “Heaven, that’s who you were talking to?” she laughed, “Bitch, you don’t know shit. She lying to you and your dumb ass believing all them lies. That’s why your dumb ass broke and washed up. You need to shut the fuck up and take care of your daughter. If you had any bit of sense, you would know that Naomi and I are the only ones who got your back.”

  “I know that’s some bullshit. I gotta go. I gotta get out this place,” I said. I walked towards the coffee table to grab my wallet and keys. Caroline jumped in front of me and snatched them before I could.

  “You ain’t going nowhere!” she yelled, cussing and calling me names. She grabbed her purse and put my things in there, and then she started to swing it at me. I kept my guard up as she continued hitting me with the bag, yelling and cussing.

  “What the fuck you doing? Give me my stuff and I will be out,” I demanded.

  “You ain’t getting shit back. You are stuck here with us,” she screamed.

  Naomi sat at the kitchen table, holding Trinity tightly. She looked upset and confused.

  “Mom are you really just going to sit there and let her hit me and act a fool?” I asked. Naomi didn’t budge.

  “Fine!” I yelled and pushed Caroline away. She fell into the wall and dropped her purse, so I got my wallet back but I couldn’t find my keys. I turned around and began rifling through her bag.

  “Alright,” Naomi interjected, “Y’all need to stop now. Ethan, give her back her purse. Let’s talk.”

  I didn’t listen. I walked toward the door while I continued searching through her purse for my keys.

  Caroline ran in front of me and blocked the door. “You going back to that bitch Angela?! You are a fucking fool. You gonna be sleeping with her and shit, and she up there fucking some other dude right now. She probably got AIDS and herpes and shit.”

  “Yep, Imma go back to Angela. And yep, I probably will sleep with her and she don’t have to get me drunk to do it.”

  Caroline snapped and started screaming and hitting me. She used her fake nails to scratch up my neck, face, and chest while she continued to scream and yell.

  “Stop it!” I hollered and tried to keep her hands away from me. I grabbed both of her hands and held them against the door, “Stop it,” I yelled. Caroline kicked and bucked trying to free herself from my grip

  “Call the police! Naomi, call the police! He hit me in the face and kicked me,” she lied.

  Caroline’s statement threw me off guard and I let her go. I couldn’t risk going back to jail. I just got out. I hoped my mom would not follow Caroline’s order, but I was wrong. Immediately Naomi grabbed the phone and dialed. I heard her telling the dispatcher that I was assaulting Caroline. I never threw a punch. I just kept on trying to block the punches that were thrown at me. Caroline kept swinging until she ran out of breath.

  “The police will lock your Black ass back up! You are a piece of shit and I will make sure you rot in there!” Caroline huffed.

  “Maybe, but I bet they might just lock you up. I’m the one with all the scratches. You don’t even have a bruise,” I pointed out confidently, though I was scared shitless.

  When the police arrived, Caroline decided to change her story.

  “What seems to be the problem?” a Black male officer asked her.

  “Yes, my ex-boyfriend came here raising hell, but I chased his butt outta here. Everything is okay now.”

  I sat down and didn’t say anything as the second officer, a white guy, looked me over. I knew he could see all the scratch marks and bruises on me, and I knew he wasn’t a dummy. They didn’t believe her story, not one bit.

  “Sir, are you alright?” he asked me.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I just want to get my keys and leave,” I replied.

  He looked at Caroline, then looked at me, “Very well.” He ushered Caroline out of the way so that I could get my keys. I made my escape while Caroline was still being questioned by the officers, who were busy taking notes.

  As I backed my car out of the driveway, Caroline broke away from the officers and rushed over trying to stop me. It didn’t matter, I was gone and I was never going back.

  I got on the road, pissed at Naomi and Caroline. How could Naomi call the police on me, her own son? And Caroline, getting physical with me, for what? My phone chirped; I’d gotten a text message:

  Naomi: Son, this got way out of hand. You need to turn back around so we can talk about this.

  Me: We have nothing to talk about.

  Naomi: We got plenty to talk about. I am your momma and you will not disrespect me.

  Me: Mom, I love you, but I am done. I won’t be coming back to Kentucky. Not now. Not ever.

  Naomi: And you gonna just go back to that girl, Angela ? She is using you. And, you still married. What you’re doing ain’t right. You need to come back and take care of your daughter. You headed straight to hell if you stay with her. You guys will be burning in hell right next to her gay ass brother and her crackhead ass daddy.

  Me: You keep swinging around scripture like you actually believe it. If you did, you wouldn’t be acting like this…

  I couldn’t finish the text because I heard sirens and saw blue lights flashing in my rearview mirror.

  “Damn,” I muttered, “just what I need. Today is not my day.”

  I pulled over and they pulled behind me. Both officers got out of their car and walked towards me. I recognized them as the duo that had responded to Naomi’s call.

  “Hey!” the Black officer said as I rolled down my window, “Where you headed?”

  “Back to Virginia,” I replied.

  “Mmm, that’s probably a good idea. Probably safer that way. I could tell there was more to the story than those two let on. You take care of yourself, all right?”

  I nodded and they let me go.

  After driving a safe distance away from the offices, I called Angela.

  “Hey boo,” she answered, “Are you getting to spend a lot of time with Trinity?”

  “I’m on my way home.”

  “Wow, that didn’t last very long. You okay? What happened?”

  “Oh, Caroline started getting all irate that I had talked to you and Ricky. I had to get out of there.”

  Angela was understanding and excited that I was coming home. She told me that she mi
ssed me and loved me. Then we got off the phone.

  Naomi and Caroline continued to text and call me but I ignored both of them. Then they started using fake numbers and saying they were Jonathan, Angela, or Heaven. I didn’t fall for it and I ignored and blocked all those messages, too.

  Seven hours into the drive, my eyes started to get heavy and my mind started to drift into la-la land. I thought it best to take a break. I pulled into a rest area and reclined my seat all the way back. I reminisced on a conversation I had with Busy and Mr. Key as I drifted off to sleep. “Jesus is the Savior of all people,” Mr. Key said as he was explaining 1 Timothy 4:9-10, “not just wealthy, heterosexual, married, free, American, white Anglo-Saxon protestants. He died for everyone. Misfits, gays, queers, convicts, cops, drug addicts, baby mamas, refugees, Africans, Mexicans, Iranians—He died for every last one of us.”

  I fell asleep for a few hours with the comfort of that thought and I woke up to the buzzing of another text message. This one really was from Ricky:

  Call Quentin. He really wants to talk to you.

  I took Ricky’s advice and picked up the phone and called the number Ricky had provided. I hadn’t talked to Quentin in well over a year and I felt nervous as I dialed.

  Quentin picked right up. He sounded concerned about me. He asked me what was going on with me, jail, Naomi, and Caroline. I filled him in on the details of my mess and he told me all about his.

  Quentin cleared his throat, “I met Caroline about six years ago. It was nothing special, she was just a girl I fucked around with a few times. She wasn’t hard to snag. Fucked her on the first date; from what I hear, she still get down like that. She wanted more but I wasn’t feeling her. A few months later she told me she was pregnant. I didn’t believe her so I told her I wanted a paternity test. Then I didn’t hear from her for a while.

  A couple years later, mom called me and invited me to the house. When I got there, Caroline was there with a little boy. She claimed he was my son and I told her again that I wanted a paternity test, which she agreed to, but she made up some dumb excuse whenever I tried to get one done. Then I found out that little boy didn’t even live with Caroline. When I confronted Caroline about it, she said that the boy lived with foster parents, but I found out that wasn’t true either.

  Turns out, Caroline was trying to pin a child on me that she ain’t even give birth to. Her ass crazy; and mom was in on it, too.

  Mom and Caroline moved in together and mom has never been the same. She schemes and lies just as much as Caroline do. I don’t know what kind of hold Caroline got on mom. I don’t know if they fucking each other or what; but it’s something, and it ain’t healthy.

  Shortly after they moved in together, I met and fell in love with Sandra. We got married last summer and she just gave birth to our baby girl. So, congrats; you have a new niece. She beautiful, too. Can’t wait for you to meet her.

  Anyway, all while me and Sandra was dating, we both would get all these text messages and emails from various numbers claiming that she or I were cheating on each other. We got threats and all kinds of obscenities. Sandra’s white, so they would say racist shit like they would lynch me for sleeping with a white girl or our child was a half breed and an abomination. They tried to make it seem like the KKK was targeting us. We knew it was mom and Caroline with their schemes. I had to change my number a few times and we had to move, too.

  When you came at me with that bullshit about me sleeping with Tracy, I thought you was in on their schemes too, so I shut you down quick. But Ricky convinced me that you didn’t know what was going on.”

  I was dumbfounded. “So, you didn’t sleep with Tracy?”

  “Hell no! You should know I’d never do some shit like that to you. Why would you even believe Caroline about that shit?”

  I tried to defend myself. “It wasn’t just Caroline saying it. It was mom, too, and I believed mom. I trusted her. She never steered me wrong before.”

  “Mom has changed. I can’t even talk to her anymore she so full of schemes. You shoulda known that.”

  “How would I know that? I was away for twenty years, remember? I was all over the world with the Navy. I didn’t know mom changed like that.”

  “Dammit man, you right. I never thought of it like that.”

  “Well, what about this baby that Caroline has now?” I asked.

  “I don’t know who baby that is.”

  “Someone said it was yours,” I prodded.

  “That ain’t my baby. I haven’t slept with Caroline in five years. That sound like some bullshit Caroline made up. She said it was yours, too.”

  I groaned. “Yeah, it might be.”

  He huffed a laugh. “I doubt it. The way Caroline is, it could be anyone’s baby. I suggest you get a DNA test. If it is yours, take care of it, but keep your distance from Caroline. She is ruthless.”

  By the time I got off the phone with Quentin, I was almost home. Angela met me at the door and gave me a big hug. I felt at peace in her embrace. Abigail and Aaron hugged me too. David gave me a dap and a head nod. The kids talked to me for a bit and asked about my trip. I kept my head down and pulled my collar up hoping that they would not notice all the marks on me.

  Angela told the kids to go play in their room and when they left, she spoke, “What? You thought I wasn’t going to notice all them scratches on your neck?”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  Angela tilted up my chin. “Damn, you didn’t tell me she beat you up.”

  I turned my head away. “She didn’t beat me up. She just hit and scratched me a little.”

  “That don’t look like a little,” she tsked as she inspected my neck. “She was really trying to hurt you.”

  Angela knew I was hurt and shocked. It was no use hiding from her. She embraced me and loved me through the pain. I wasn’t as upset about what Caroline had done to me, physically; I was more hurt by what Naomi had done to me, emotionally. That was the most terrible part of the entire situation. My mother was supposed to love me and be there for me; instead, she was plotting against me and setting me up for failure. That hurt more than anything.

  Angela convinced me to take pictures of the scratches just in case Caroline tried to press bullshit charges later. She asked me if I wanted to go to the police, but I refused. I knew that would bring nothing but more drama. I figured I’d just let go and let God handle it.

  A few days later, I got a call with a job offer. It wasn’t my dream job, but it was something. I’d be working in the stock room at a local department store. It paid minimum wage and the hours sucked, but it was a start. Though my debt was still overwhelming, I used the money I made there to start paying it down.

  Chapter 20 – Naomi

  March 1st was a day I would never forget. It was the day that the doctor told me the biopsy they had taken confirmed that I had breast cancer. My first thought was, “Am I going to die?” My second thought was, “Am I going to die alone?” I was alone when the doctor told me the news and, when I got home, the only person there was Caroline.

  I’d been married before, three times, but even though we had said we’d be together through sickness and health, none of them stuck around. My first husband and I married young. He was handsome and charming—the love of my life—but he had a wandering eye and a wandering dick. I put up with his many affairs for ten years. For a decade, I watched children from various women pop up around our town who looked just like him. For ten years, I stayed up all night crying while I waited for him to return home. I prayed that God would change his heart; but I gave up after ten years, and I left.

  My second husband was wealthy and provided me a very comfortable life, but he was abusive. I put up with his excessive drinking and angry outbursts for six years before I decided to leave him. Fortunately, I had a great lawyer and managed to get a healthy monthly spousal support check until his death in 2007.

  My third husband was a nice man. We lived a comfortable lif
e for three years until he died of lung cancer in 2010. Since then, I’ve been alone.

  I had three sons, all products of my first marriage, but none of them were around.

  My oldest boy, Quentin, stopped talking to me. He has made some poor choices in his life and I could not condone them. He dated Caroline for a while and they made a beautiful baby boy named Matthew. He refused to take care of Matthew or Caroline and Caroline was forced to give Matthew up for adoption. She had no way to take care of him.

  Quentin was just like his dad, going off making babies and not taking care of them. Then, to add insult to injury, Quentin left Caroline and married that horrible white girl. She was a thief, a whore, and a druggy. I couldn’t understand why he would go outside of his race when there were so many beautiful Black sisters he could have chosen. I let it be known that I did not think that she was good for him and that he should have married Caroline, instead; but he didn’t listen. He chose that white girl over me and stopped talking to me because I refused to accept her as my daughter-in-law.

  Ricky, my youngest boy, lived with me in his early adult years, but I quickly grew tired of how inconsiderate he was. Coming home at all hours of the night. Hogging the phone, talking to his little girlfriend. Leaving trash around. We fussed and fought a lot. Then, he decided to move out. He followed that girl to California and married her. We talked, but not a lot.

  Ethan is my middle child. We were always close when he was growing up, but then he decided to go off and join the Navy. I never really wanted him to go. I worried about him, but I knew he had to spread his wings so I let him go and prayed for his safe return. He stayed safe but he didn’t return. He foolishly chased after one girl, then another. Those girls led him down the wrong path and got him into all kinds of trouble. But he, too, refused to listen to me.

  I had siblings, but they were too engulfed in their own lives to be concerned about me. Besides, when mama was dying, none of them volunteered to help. I was the only one who stepped up. If they refused to take care of our mama, why would I expect them to take care of me?