Beyond the Hurt (4 page)

“Let me go! I’m pregnant!” she screamed at the top of her lungs as if she were trying to announce their dirty laundry to the entire neighborhood. “I came here to tell you, I’m pregnant.”

Lance swiftly loosened his grip and freed her from his grasp. “What did you say?” He questioned in a panic, panting to catch his breath. “You said you were on the pill. I made sure to pull out. There is no way you are pregnant.” He stared in her direction awaiting any type of response shaking his head in disagreement.

“Lance, I’m pregnant. I found out today. It is yours. What are you going to do about it? You said you loved me, so I stopped taking it a while ago,” she cocked her head to the side like a parrot awaiting the next words to mimic. No response. She waited a moment and gradually picked herself off the ground, wiping her forehead sweat from the tussle, trying to gain her composure. She twisted her arm placing it on her hip propping up her fragile body to hear how her newly informed baby daddy was going to support this new situation.

Lance remained quiet as he pondered her words. He reflected on the timeline from their last sexual encounter, he was sure that her accusation could not be true. He had no clue how he let a female jump-off get him so rattled and caught up in the
Love and Hip-Hop
drama. His mama warned him about this day, all he could hear were her words replaying in his head
these “hoochie mamas” are trouble; one night of passion can lead to a lifetime of pain
. He didn’t have the courage to put his pride to the side and comfort the girl or even acknowledge her question.

“Where the hell are you going? I am talking to you?” she screamed. He turned his back on her, turned the knob of the wooden front door and went back into the contentment and protection of his mama’s house. Just before he had his entire body clear out of her sight, he stepped back and turned to her, “If what you are saying is true, you can’t keep it. I’ll give you the money to do what you have to do.” He continued in the door and slammed it behind him.

“Do what I gotta do? Is this how you want it Lance? You’re just gonna walk away? Typical!” She bellowed in her final attempt to make peace with her now distant lover. “It’s not over. Believe that! I’m keeping this baby. I’m the wrong one! But, I got something fo’ that ass!” Her voice was now fading as she made her way back to her 2005 white Nissan Maxima slamming the car door to prove her dissatisfaction with his reaction and skirted off down the street.

Lydia quickly ran back to the kitchen before Lance entered pretending to wash the dishes as to not make it entirely obvious that she witnessed the whole ordeal. She lingered a moment before speaking, “I know I asked for grand babies, but good Lord Jesus, I didn’t want them to come like this,” his mother joked as she sauntered back into her chair.  She had jokes too. Maybe this situation would show him just how much he needed to settle down. “If that girl is telling the truth, you know you have to do what’s right, son. I know I haven’t been the best example for you, but you know what it is like to not have a father around. Do you really want that for your own child?” she pleaded. “I’ve lived without a daddy and the cycle has to stop. I didn’t raise you like that!” Her emotions begin to take flight. The thought of her son being so disconnected from a woman that he would insinuate for her to have an abortion sent an uncomfortable charge through her body.

“That trick ain’t pregnant.  Even if she is, it ain’t mine, Mama, believe that! There is no possible way. That’s it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He slammed his hand down on the table to seal the deal.

“How can you be so sure? And this is
my
house; I will let you know when we are finished discussing. You ‘bout clear done lost yo’ mind up in here.”

“Mama, I’m sorry. I know that girl is up to no good. I’m positive the baby, if there is even a baby, is not mine.”

She felt an edge of sincerity coming from within him. He was her heart and to see him troubled only worried her more. It had been the sole reason she felt the need to hook him up with a woman that would not try to trap him into a relationship or use him for the little money he had. It was bad enough her relationships went sour and left them in shambles, picking up all the pieces of a broken home, trying her best to make due.

“Well then, eat your food before it gets cold,” his mama reminded. Making an effort to salvage what was left of their meal. She didn’t want him to get any more worked up, because it was a task calming him down.

Lance took one bite of his now cold chicken breast and threw it down, pushing the plate away. He no longer had an appetite. He had too many thoughts racing through his head.
Pregnant? She can’t be.
He excused himself from the table and went back out on the front porch. He needed to clear his head. The only thing to do was to call up his boys to meet up for a drink. Although Charles had his own drama to deal with, he knew he needed to hear this. Lance scrolled down his phone to call his boy Elijah to come and swoop him up from his mama’s crib. He planned to get all the way wasted and didn’t want to risk driving intoxicated.

“Yo Elijah, I need you to come and swoop me,” he hung up the phone, posted on the porch and waited.

Chapter 4

“I can still smell the liquor on your breath, honey.” Charlene turned in disappointment from her husband when he tried to kiss her on her freshly painted lips. Edmond tired from the long drive wanted to keep the peace with his wife before exiting the car to retire to bed. It was a long trip back from Southern California and both were exhausted from all the driving and moving. Hauling boxes, bins, bags and more boxes from the truck to the dorm took its toll.

He picked up a few beers on the last leg of the trip to stay focused and alert for the duration of the drive since Charlene would be of no assistance behind the wheel. The liquor on the drive down, kept him focused enough to drown out the commentary from his wife, so he thought it best to duplicate the same ritual on the return trip. Charlene hated when Edmond drank because he became more irate and irritable with her. She was well aware of the fact that he despised her long talks and complaints about patients and co-workers in the hospital. He also couldn’t stand the disdain she had with their son. However, she felt as her husband, he was obligated to be a listening ear. She had given up many of her friends to pursue her relationship with him, so it was the least he could do.

Charlene spent three days out of the week laboring twelve-hour shifts at Kaiser as a Registered Nurse. Her husband made enough money for the both of them, yet she only worked when she was tired of being alone in the house and wanted to gain some excitement in her life. Seeing open wounds and hearing crying babies invigorated her. It gave her purpose outside of her wifely duties. She had always aspired to be a nurse and help people in need. When they met at Merritt Community College, Edmond was one of her biggest supporters, encouraging her to continue when she wanted to give up and helping her out with books, when financial aid didn't quite cover everything. He was her support system and she attempted to be his. In college, when he had his many breakdowns and blow-ups, he turned more and more to liquor. She would be the first to admit that he was no alcoholic, but she feared that one day he would take one drink too many and he would be clear on the road of no return.

The sun was beginning to set on the day, notifying them it was well past the time needed to recoup the hours sacrificed in transitioning their daughter into the real world. They managed to park the car fully in the garage this time, since the majority of the boxes Debra had packed for weeks were removed. It contained an air of emptiness with her gone, but it allowed for new opportunities on the usage of space.

“Look honey, I don’t want to fuss and fight tonight. I am tired. It was a long drive. Just give me a kiss so we can go into the house.” Edmond leaned closer in hopes that she would meet him half way and plant a luscious kiss with her full lips on his and he could go on his merry way into the house. However, that was not the case. Charlene merely stared back in his direction. She folded her arms and repositioned her body touching the passenger side door, propping her back against the window to gain a better view of his facial expression for her next question.

“You have been drinking a lot more lately. Is everything all right? You know you drink when you are stressed.” Edmond lifted his eyes toward her peering directly into hers. He stayed a moment, and then leaned back in the opposite direction toward his door. She held her stance with her arms folded refusing to allow him to avoid her line of questioning this time.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go in my house and lay my head down on my comfortable bed.” He picked up his empty beer cans and let himself out of the car, slamming the door behind him in protest of his wife’s refusal of her responsibility of affection as his wife.

“Fine! I know you are just going to go to the back house and drink your troubles away.” It was no use at all. She was speaking to the wind.

Edmond fumbled around in his pocket to locate his key. His coordination was a tad bit off, because the last ingested beer was beginning to take effect. As soon as he located the key in the midst of coins and lint in his pants pocket, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. He cautiously pushed the door in, checking around the first corner to ensure that no one had broken into their home. He grabbed the metal bat tucked away in the crevice of the wall by the entrance, for times such as this. His pistol was upstairs in their bedroom, so he settled for what was nearest. He was not alarmed. The setting read all too familiar of Samson’s negligence, but it didn’t hurt to take extra precaution, plus he had been drinking, causing his reflexes to be delayed. He often accidentally left doors open or unlocked, as if he could afford the coverage if any of their items were damaged or stolen. The lights were all out, but you could hear sounds of heavy breathing and moaning.

Edmond was careful with each step, maneuvering through each room following the sounds pretending to be
MacGyver
. As he came closer upon the living room, the voice he recognized to be Samson’s along with the faint sound of a young woman. From the raucous, he initially heard when he entered the house to the faint pants; they were winding down from their private party.

“Are you sure your parents won’t be back for a while?” The young girl whispered, hoping that any unwanted guests would not view their rendezvous.

“Shhh…don’t talk. I’m almost finished,” Samson covered her mouth with his palm, hoping she would silence her commentary in order for him to finish the task at hand. With his last pump, he raised his eyes to meet the bright light and the perturbed expression of his father. He instantly grabbed his boxers to cover his erect genitalia, and slithered into them as if his life depended on it.

‘“Samson! What the hell is going on?” he hesitated a moment to gather his words staggering back. “Who is this floozy in my house?” Edmond didn’t wait for a response. He charged at him with all of the strength he could muster, lifted him to his feet by his neck and slammed his back against the wall with each word. He tightened his grip around his neck. His heart was beating a mile a minute as sweat gathered on his forehead. He was beyond livid and the alcohol in his system was not helping to defuse the situation. Samson squirmed within the grip, wriggling around hoping to discover an outlet from his chokehold. His complexion turned from a dark brown to a dulling gray as he was losing air to breathe. “I told you about bringing these hoes into my house, where we lay our head. If you want to treat this house like the motel, then you need to take your ass out and pay for one like a man with integrity.”

The entire ordeal caught Samson off guard. He and his father had their fair share of disagreements, but never to the extent that he felt the need to put his hands on him. He was utterly shocked that his father was so enraged that he would go as far as to attack him. “Dad, let me go! I can’t breathe.”

“Put him down! Edmond, get your hands off my son!” Charlene charged after Edmond pulling at his shoulder in every attempt to free her son. “Let him go! He said he couldn’t breathe.” Between words, she tugged and pulled, hit, pushed her way to free her son. She managed to pry one hand from her son’s neck allowing some of his coloring to return and air back through his lungs. “What has gotten into you?” she screamed. The sound of him choking and gasping for his newly found air echoed around the living room. Charlene could not bear to watch her husband attack her son. Without realizing, he swung back in her direction stifling her interference of his moment of discipline.             

“Dammit woman! Let me handle this. He is a man and I am handling it! I am not going to tell you again.” He loosened his grip a bit to appease his wife, but he still needed Samson to understand he meant business.

“Dad…I’m sorry. Let me go!” He mustered out with limited breathing capacity.

“What is this about, Edmond? He is only doing what he has learned from you. You haven’t been the best example for the boy.” Charlene knew she had gone too far, but it was too late to turn back now her words were already deep in his subconscious. She stood suspended a moment anticipating any sudden movement. If he was drunk enough to attack his own son, he may have lost all of his good known common sense and come after her, so she braced herself.

Edmond gently released his grip and lowered Samson down to the ground. He didn’t want to kill his son, but he did want to scare him enough to want to leave. Upon release, Samson scurried over to his companion to comfort her. The girl’s integrity was unsheltered in her bra and panties. She lay curled up in a ball sobbing, humiliated that she allowed herself to, yet again, let another man persuade her that her value was between her legs.

“Get this girl out of my house and get out of my sight!” Samson did not waste any time making his exit. He picked up each article of clothing that lay scattered about the living room and he and his companion made their escape. Edmond turned to give Charlene his undivided attention. “What the hell did you say to me? I really want you to say it again now that I am listening and you have my full attention.” He was panting and sweating all over his body. The sweat from his son along with his own soaked into his Burberry light blue cashmere sweater.

“Edmond…You heard what I said. You want to run around here like your shit don’t stank, like you ain’t made some bad decisions, like your ass ain’t been bare-bottom in this house…caught up!” Charlene was almost in his face now. She was livid. “I don’t give you any mess about it either, but count this the last time you ever put your hands on my son. Chew on this Edmond….I am leaving. I can’t do this anymore.” She turned and stormed out the room avoiding any further eye contact. She could feel her blood pressure at its max and did not want to cause too much of a scene and end up paying for it later in the hospital. Edmond had a way of drawing her back in through his eyes. She loved him so deeply; she needed time to process her words, her disappointment. Up until this point, she had not been this vocal with him. She often swallowed her words to pacify her husband. Things were better that way, she could better deal when he was untroubled, when the seas of their life were mellow.

“Go ahead and go.” Edmond raised his hand to rub his forehead and held it there in disbelief that he allowed this to go that far. He didn’t want her to believe that she could just say whatever she wanted to him at any given time. He created a structured home of respect. Her first priority was to be a support to him and ensure that if nothing more he was satisfied. He didn’t abuse his wife physically in any way because she knew her place. She rarely stepped out of line. And even in times when she came very close to the line he could give her a look that she knew she had gone too far and retreated back to her docile, submissive self.

Charlene didn’t need his permission, nor was she asking for it at this point. Her words were clear for her; it sealed the deal of her inner thoughts. She was partway out the door once the word left her lips. She was definitely not throwing away their twenty-year marriage in any shape or form. It was time though for Edmond to have some think time, to understand that his family was not his enemy. She prepared a simple overnight bag and called for a taxi to come and pick her up. She didn’t want Edmond to know where she was going and use the tracking device installed in her car to identify her location.

*******************************************************

“Now you know you didn't get this from me.” Elijah stated matter-of-factly. The two agreed to meet in a discreet location behind the abandoned emporium outlet store in the alley to handle the transaction. It was late in the evening, so the majority of people who occupied the streets during the daylight had long gone home, leaving the night to the streetwalkers and drug dealers. One of Samson’s boys gave him Elijah’s contact info as the one to go to for a good price on quality guns.

“I know. I know. I won’t say nothing. I’m just glad to finally have some heat. My boys have been riding me about being out in these streets with no protection.” He glanced over the .45 pistol in awe that it was finally in his hands, he could hold it and it belonged to him. All his hustling paid off and his status was now complete. “No one knows I am here and they definitely won’t know you sold it to me, believe that.” Samson still admiring the gun responded without making eye contact.

“Good. I’m not about killin’ folk, but it ain’t safe in these streets without it. You a young dude and I see you out here tryin’ to make yo’ money. Just be careful. Everybody don’t like what they see. Now, it’s already locked and loaded, so you are good.” Elijah wrapped it up for him and counted all the money to ensure it was there. When it came to business, he was very particular about his money, regardless if he knew you or not. “Make sure you don’t tell yo’ pops about this either, I don’t want him comin’ after me,” he joked, but serious at the same time.