by Amy Watkins
In the middle of the eulogy, I saw Mike sneak into the back row. During the procession, I walked over to him. “Hey, man.”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me in for a hug. “Hey, Cool Breezy. Good to see you out, man.”
“Mike, this is my girl, Angela.”
Mike smiled and shook her hand, “It’s nice to meet you. I heard a lot about you.”
Angela smiled, “Nice to meet you too, Mike.”
“Sad, huh?” he asked. “Mr. Key was such a good man. He helped me out a lot. Introduced me to church. You know, I’ve been going to church every Sunday since I got out and sometimes during the week, too. It helps me. I haven’t touched any drugs or taken a drink since I been out.”
I smiled, it was so good to hear that Mike was staying sober and keeping out of trouble, “That’s good, man. I’m happy for you.”
There were several older ex-cons in attendance. They sat around after the funeral, reminiscing about their time in prison with Mr. Key.
One told us a story about a mean, young African officer in the prison who was jumped by several of the inmates. They knocked the guard unconscious and would have continued to beat him had it not been for Mr. Key stepping in and stopping the altercation. He risked his life and stood between the officer and the inmates. He spoke to them about loving the ones who persecute you and the other inmates backed away.
Another white ex-con explained that he’d grown up with very racist parents so he was racist. He was young and ignorant, joining a neo-Nazi group when he was a teenager. He had a swastika tattooed on his arm. He was doing a bid in prison for assaulting a Black homosexual man. He met Mr. Key shortly after being sentenced. He had never actually sat down and talked to any Black people before Mr. Key started to talk with him, and in their developing friendship, he abandoned racism. He realized that all that hatred for people of color had been taught to him and that it was all lies. As soon as he was released from jail, he got a job and saved up his money to get the swastika removed from his arm. He now mentors young men, especially those who had racist views.
Mr. Key was an old, sick, washed up convict, but his life mattered. It was an unfortunate life, but God used his unfortunate circumstances to save several wretches. One of them just happened to be me. I was grateful that I had the opportunity to know one of God’s angels and I was happy to know that Mr. Key was now free.
After we got home, I cried like a baby. Angela lay down next to me and held me silently while I let it all out. I didn’t have to wear a mask in front of Angela. I felt comfortable just being me and feeling the way I felt without worrying she’d judge or abandon me. I was completely in love with her and I knew she was in love with me.
I wiped away my tears when I heard little hands knocking on our bedroom door.
“Come in,” I croaked.
David, Abigail, and Aaron all piled into the room. Abigail and Aaron jumped on the bed and threw their arms around me. David just walked around the room, tossing around a bouncy ball as he talked with us. I missed my biological kids, but these were my kids too, and I loved them.
Angela ushered them out the room to give me some much-needed alone time, which I used to reflect and pray.
Chapter 25 – Ronda
On life’s journey, there are several highs and lows, ups and downs, mountains and valleys. My life has been filled with all of them, and I have learned some harsh lessons along the way.
Some friends are only there for you when you are on the mountaintops. They are the opportunists. The ones who want to take advantage of what you have. They are just trying to take what you’ve got. Then there are the friends who are only there for you when you are in the valleys. Your valley friends are much rarer than mountaintop friends. Valley friends are usually depressed or insecure and they love to be around when you are miserable because your misery helps them feel better about themselves. Unfortunately, they can’t celebrate with you when things are good. They often complain and speak negatively about any success you get.
Even rarer are the friends who genuinely have your back whether you’re on that mountaintop or in the valley. You may be blessed with one or two of those type of friends in a lifetime. For me, that was Angela. She has truly been there for me through it all. She was my cheerleader when I met and fell in love with my husband, Cedric. She was my maid of honor at our wedding and gave a beautiful toast. She was also there for me when Cedric came home one day and told me he cheated on me and that the person he slept with was pregnant with his kid.
That was truly the worst moment of my life. I left him and she invited me to live with her. She cried with me and loved on me through my pain. She even introduced me to Francisco, my rebound boo. Angela couldn’t stop bragging to me about Francisco and when she introduced us, I realized she was right—he was fine. So, I took the hint and asked him out.
We went on a lunch date to one of my favorite restaurants and then he and I had my little rebound fling. I didn’t enjoy revenge sex. And even though Cedric had an affair first, I felt guilty and ashamed. I had become an adulterer. I could tell it bothered Angela too, even though she tried to hide it. It was the worst mistake I ever made. Angela and I never talked about it, but I still carry that guilt.
I loved Angela. I didn’t want her to make the same mistakes I made. I didn’t want her to suffer silently like I had for fifteen years. So, when I found out that Ethan was separated and not fully divorced, I feared for the wellbeing of my dearest friend. And I was right to be afraid because their relationship was filled with baby mama drama and hardship.
Angela had been through so much heartache in her life. I saw what she went through with her real father, then her stepfather, then Jonathan, and David senior, and then Terrell. I couldn’t bear to see her go through more pain; I couldn’t bear to have the kids go through more, either. So, I texted her to let her know how I felt. I told her I wanted her to have genuine joy and confidence, and that Ethan was not enough. But she was not very receptive to it and she distanced herself from me.
Months went by without a text or a phone call from her. I’d call and ask Erica about Angela but her responses were usually short, “They are doing good. They happy. The kids are safe.”
I was only trying to help my friend, but it seemed I was losing her in the process. I prayed for her. I prayed that she would see the truth and dump Ethan. I prayed that she would leave him before she invested too much time or heart or money into the situation. I prayed for God’s protection.
Then God answered, “Don’t let your fears get in the way of something beautiful. I got this.”
I knew I had to swallow my pride and repair our friendship, so I called her…but she didn’t answer. I thought that was it. Our thirty-year friendship was over, and for what? My fears?
The she texted me back:
Angela: Sorry love. Can’t talk now. I’m at a funeral.
“Oh God,” I thought, “who died?” I was scared that Angela was once again facing a valley, and this time it was without me. I wanted desperately to be there for my friend. I missed and worried about her all the time. A few hours later, she called me back.
“Hey.” She sounded peaceful.
“Hey, are you okay? Is everyone okay?” I asked anxiously.
“Yeah, we’re all good.”
“What about the funeral?”
“Oh, that? That was one of Ethan’s friends.”
“Oh good. I thought it was someone we knew. I mean, not good that Ethan lost a friend, but you know what I mean.”
“You worry too much,” Angela giggled. “But, hey, how are you?”
“I’m good,” I hedged. In truth, I was miserable. “Just worried about you… and the kids… and Ethan.”
Angela sighed and I imagined her rolling her eyes at me mentioning Ethan. I knew she was annoyed with my advice on the matter.
“We good,” she abruptly declared.
“Look, I gotta tell you something…” I took a deep b
reath and prayed for strength. “I had a come to Jesus moment and I’m trying to accept Ethan and truly support you being together. I was just afraid of you getting hurt again, but I can see how good he is with you and the kids. I truly wish you guys the best.”
I could hear her smile through the phone, “Really?”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Yeah,” I choked.
“Oh, thank God! I been praying for this day. And I understand your concern, but Ethan and I are happy. We are truly happy.”
It was good to hear Angela so content. I had never heard her talk about someone the way she talked about Ethan. I still worried for her, though. It’s a longer way down when you fall off a mountaintop than when you fall in a valley, but I would continue to pray my fears and doubts would ease. I would continue to pray for her protection, and I’d continue to be there for her through thick and thin.
Chapter 26 – Caroline
My mother was sixteen years old when she gave birth to me. She repeatedly reminded me what a mistake I was. If it weren’t for me, she would have finished high school. If it weren’t for me, she would have gone to college and made something of herself. If it weren’t for me, she would have had money and not been on welfare for most of her life. She didn’t want me to call her mom and so instead I called her by her first name, Tisha.
My dad was twenty-nine when he impregnated Tisha. He was married to Lola Johnson at the time and she convinced him to deny me. She told him that he would be arrested for statutory rape, sent to jail, and marked as a pedophile if he claimed me as his child. He heeded her warning and completely denied me. They moved away to Kentucky, had their own family, and forgot about us.
So, Tisha was left with nothing. She had no money, no support, no education, and she hated me because of it. I grew up poor and unwanted. I longed for a big, happy, rich family, but God never gave me that opportunity; so, I decided early in life that I was going to take it.
When I turned eighteen, I left South Carolina and moved to Kentucky to search for my father. I found him in a small town, still married to Lola. She threatened to kill me if I ever came around her house with that “I’m John’s daughter foolishness” again. I was hurt, but I was a strong girl and I was smart. I was going to make them both pay.
I taught myself how to hack into phones and computers. I hacked into their computer and saw that they had copious amounts of pornography. There were several very young-looking girls in the videos—we are talking maybe twelve- or thirteen-year-olds. John was a pedophile. I confronted Lola about it. She’d been enabling her husband for years. I blackmailed them. I threatened to call the cops if they didn’t give me a monthly stipend. For years, they gave me twenty-five hundred a month, until one day John couldn’t take it anymore. He put a Glock 19 to his head in the passenger seat of his old car, the same car he impregnated Tisha in, and pulled the trigger.
I tried to get more money out of Lola, but she was so distraught over the whole thing, she didn’t even care anymore. That twenty-five hundred dollars a month allowed me to live comfortably, and it was gone. I had to find another way to survive.
I met Quentin two months after John’s suicide. He was from a good family. They had a lot of land which could be sold off if we needed money. Quentin was a loose cannon, so I figured that I could find something to use that he would want to keep quiet if I got close enough, and then I could blackmail him too.
But I grew to love Quentin. He was very charming and he was great in bed. I wanted him to be mine and I wanted to be a part of his family. So, after a few months of dating, I told him I was pregnant. He said he’d take care of the baby if it was his, but he didn’t want to be with me. He’d slip me some money here and there when I’d ask. I would tell him I needed a few hundred for doctor’s appointments or for food or for whatever. I guilted him into giving me money seeing’s how I was pregnant with his child.
We continued to sleep together, and I hoped that I really would get pregnant; but I never did. I hoped that he would fall in love with me and want to make me his wife; but he never did. It hurt. After a few months, he asked what was up with the pregnancy. I told him that I lost the baby. He had no remorse. He laughed and left. He stopped calling me after that and wouldn’t return my calls.
I was broke and alone so I had to get a job. And I found one quickly as a nurse’s assistant at the local hospital. It sucked and it barely paid the bills, so I had to take a side job babysitting. That is how I met Anthony and Sherril. Sherril was in the military and her husband Anthony was a nurse at the hospital. They were both workaholics. They barely had time for each other, let alone their baby boy, Matthew. They became my main source of income as I frequently babysat. Matthew often spent the night and even some weekends with me.
It was Anthony who informed me that Quentin’s mom worked at the same hospital we did. That would be my in. I cornered her one day and told her a sob story that Quentin and I had previously been in a committed relationship. I told her I was in love with him, but he dogged me out. I told her that I had a child with him, but he didn’t know it. I also said I was afraid to tell him because he already said he wanted nothing to do with me, that he’d already moved on with another girl. I told her I had no family, and that I was scared and alone, raising this child by myself.
She felt horrible. She decided that she would help me. The problem was, I had no child. So, I used Matthew and introduced him to Naomi as my own. She wondered why he didn’t live with me, so I told her I had to give him up to the system. I explained that he lived with a foster family and they were adopting him, but the adoption would be open so I could still be a part of his life. She surprisingly believed me. I think that she was just lonely, so she believed what she wanted to believe.
Naomi had grandchildren but they were spread out all over the country and she didn’t get many opportunities to see them. Her sons were not around, either. She and Quentin were never really close and the other two sons lived in different states. She longed for someone to be close to, and I decided that I would fill the void her own family left behind.
She took me under her wing and loved me like she was my real mother. And I loved her back. She took me into her home and helped me. But soon after I moved in, she developed health problems rendering her unable to work. She would not be able to provide for me much longer, so we had to think of a way to get more money.
Our first plan was to try to get Quentin to take care of the child he fathered. One day I volunteered to babysit Matthew, and Naomi invited Quentin over. We sat him down and told him he had fathered this child. He didn’t fall for it. He said he would help if it really was his child and he wanted a DNA test to prove it. I delayed the DNA testing for as long as I could. When Naomi asked about it, I told her that I was trying to get it done but Quentin refused. I used my computer skills to forge an email from Quentin to me stating that he wanted nothing to do with me, Naomi, or his son. Naomi bought it and stopped talking to Quentin altogether.
Then one day when I came home from work, I saw a familiar car in the driveway. When I walked into the house, I saw Lola laughing and joking around with Naomi. She was shocked to see me but I played it off and pretended I had never met her. Naomi introduced Lola to me as her best friend. Best friend, huh? I figured there may still be an opportunity there, after all.
I got Lola’s number from Naomi and confronted her. I texted her that if she didn’t start paying me something, I would squeal to Naomi about everything. She’d lose her best friend.
Lola was unmoved. She texted me back:
Lola: If Naomi wants to side with you about this, she is no friend of mine.
It was the perfect response. I showed Naomi, Lola’s text message, I altered it a little first of course, making it seem like Lola no longer considered Naomi a friend. Naomi was furious and she started spilling all the other secrets Lola had.
John had not committed suicide. Lola was tired of his cheating, lying, abusive ass and all the m
oney they were forking over. They got into a heated argument and she shot him in the face. She fixed the scene to make it look like a suicide and the cops bought it—but she confessed all to Naomi, her best friend.
We were able to use that information to blackmail Lola. She gave us all that she had, fifty thousand dollars. We used that money to pay off Naomi’s medical bills and buy a new car. Hell, there was even some left over that we lived off of for a while. Things were good for us, but that money ran out too, so I had to go back to work.
Then there was Naomi’s middle child, Ethan. We went to Virginia to visit him and his wife, Tracy, a few times. He was super nice. He worked at a nice job, did most of the chores in the house, and took care of his son while his wife sat around all day, spending money, drinking a lot of alcohol, gossiping, and putting Ethan down. Naomi hated seeing her son played so horrendously. She thought I’d be a better match for him, and I agreed. I added fuel to Naomi’s fire by lying…I said Tracy was plotting to hurt Ethan.
Then I befriended Tracy. It’s easier to sabotage when you are an insider. She was loose-lipped and I was able to get all kinds of information about her and Ethan’s relationship. Neither of them was happy. She wanted to divorce him but keep her money and benefits. I pretended to be on her side, but Naomi and I were thinking of ways to break them up the entire time.
First, we tried to get Tracy to leave Ethan. I told Tracy that Ethan was cheating on her and had gotten someone pregnant. She fell for it and accused Ethan of all kinds of foolishness. Naomi and I just sat back, amused, and waited for one of them to file for a divorce.
Tracy met with a lawyer who told her that, because she had no solid proof of an affair and because she was able to work and chose not to, she would likely not get any alimony. Without alimony, Tracy was not leaving.