Dysfunctional (The Root of Betrayal) Read online

  Should I tell her, he contemplated. He was full of secrets.

  He started to bite his nails; another one of his habits he did when he was either lying or was deep in thought, and at this exact moment, he was doing a little of both. “I have something to tell you.”

  “What is it?”

  “I have two kids already, age three and five; both are girls. They live in Flint with her mother.”

  “WHAT?” She quickly experienced a sick, dropping sensation in her abdomen like never before. Not coming close to the way that she felt most mornings when she vomited, but close. “Are you kidding me?”

  He held his head down and fumbled with his fingers again. “No, I’m serious.”

  For one exceedingly, weird second Juan’s jaws moved, but she didn’t make out a word that had come through. “How come that wasn’t a factor in the matter before this had happened, and when were you going to tell me about your other family?”

  He didn’t like the way that she had said "other family" as to say that she was keeping the baby. He didn’t have a family, and as far as he was concerned, he didn’t have any children either.

  Juan carried around a big, dark secret that plagued him every single day no matter how hard he struggled to forget about it. His upbringing was difficult from the tender age of three until he moved with his mother’s sister Beverly at the age of twelve. His father had thrown him into the cold, creepy basement, whenever he felt he’d misbehaved.

  How was it being mischievous to ask for another tuna sandwich if you were still starving? The older that he became, his father created motives to lock him down the basement until the next day, or sometimes even for days. He spent a week in the underground room once for sprinting away from his father as he tried to beat him for turning on the television, although no one was watching it. His father was infuriated because he had been outsmarted, and if it weren’t for that dog’s stupid chewing toy, he would’ve escaped and never went back. The damn dog received better treatment than him and his mother. Brutis (the huge Rottweiler) slept in the cold basement, but he was given a comforter to lie on at least. No cover was given to Juan.

  In the winter months, he had to take the (hairy and smelly) cover from the dog to sleep underneath it. Brutis ate at least twice a day, and they screamed bloody murder if he asked to eat once a day. Brutis had toys to play with and was allowed to go outside; however, it was to school and back inside the house for Juan. And having toys were out of the question, his father claimed that his toys were too expensive.

  As many nights as he stayed in the basement, he had never become accustomed to it. He was every bit as petrified of basements now, as much as he had been when he was younger. He was especially terrified of the furnace because it made a horrible sound that intimidated him still. The clothes that hung on the clothesline looked as though people were dancing from the air that blew out of the vent. He was pretty sure that he’d seen ghosts as he tried to sleep, and the abrupt barking from Brutis didn’t help matters.

  After the abuse was over, his father told him that he was trying to make a man out of him, but he’d managed to do quite the opposite. His mother wailed, fussing at him time after time.

  “You should not do anything wrong around Richard.” Breathing too loud was wrong to Richard. He imagined her saying to him, “I tried to warn you, but you’re so hard headed. I told you not to touch anything in here.” He could see the fear in her eyes as she spoke about Richard.

  He realized on that day, that his mother didn’t like what his father was doing, but she was helpless herself and didn’t know how to stop it, so he decided that he was going to get out for good. His mother always told him, “If somebody is doing something to you that you don’t like tell a school teacher, or any grown person, and he or she will help you.”

  Until today, he never paid attention to his mother’s long forgotten advice. He remembered being five years old and hearing those words from her, and that she had a sister named Beverly, who lived in Michigan. They lived in Atlanta, and he would be glad to place some distance between them. He would miss his mother, but not his father.

  The last time he had seen his mother, she had kissed him on the cheek and told him that she’d loved him with all her heart, regardless of what he assumed. It was like she had known that she wasn’t going to see her only son again.

  His aunt received custody of Juan after he informed the gym teacher of the abuse, and how his mother allowed it. The court of law immediately stepped in and removed him from the abusive home with his parents. Living with his aunt wasn’t so terrible; she was never at home because she lived her life as a call girl, which she called working for an escort service. If that helped her sleep better at night; on the nights that she had actually come back home. He didn’t mind being left alone, as long as he wasn’t confined to the basement and could eat as much food as his belly could hold.

  His father croaked last month from lung cancer. He didn’t feel remorseful, and he sure as hell didn’t attend the funeral. When he’d heard the news, he felt a sudden tingle of resentment, followed by a quick feeling of guilt because he had known that wasn’t right.

  “Juan, are you listening to me?” Alexis snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Juan!”

  “I didn’t tell you because my business is my business,” he replied. “Who I was going with and how many kids that I have didn’t affect us. I didn’t think you were going to get pregnant.”

  Aggravated, with her hands on her hips, she said, “I told you to put on another condom, but no, you said you knew what you were doing! Did you think I was sterile?”

  “I know what I am doing.”

  “We wouldn’t be here discussing this if that were true,” she complained. “What kind of father are you to those kids, you never visit them? You are either on the block selling drugs, or over to my house.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck I do when I’m not with you. I’m only around you because you asked me to be-”

  She interrupted. “You live a normal life while the mother struggles to take care of the kids.”

  He exhaled. “Will you get off of that? I didn’t tell her to have those damn kids, just like I’m trying to express you; I don’t want any kids now! If you have it, you are on your own.” He stuffed ninety dollars in her shirt and started walking away.

  “Don’t you walk away from me! You stupid, abrasive, foolish, ignorant, self-centered, obnoxious, irresponsible, pompous ass! You are a sorry excuse of a man!”

  He gazed at her with a devilish grin on his face not showing concern for her, or the situation.

  “Look, do what you want to do. I got to go,” he said sarcastically, as he gently moved her aside. He shook his head and proceeded up the street.

  She’d cursed him until he was out of sight. Barbara peeped out of the front window anxiously waiting on him to make his move as she gripped her favorite bat. One yank of an arm or any hostile movement would earn him a one-way ticket to the E.R. He left, so she tip-toed through the house and crept back into her dark bedroom like a thief in the night.

  Another day, another problem, she thought. Alexis sat on the porch bawling uncontrollably with her head on her lap until the sound of someone walking through the house garnered her attention.

  The door squeaked. “What are you doing out here?” Lynette questioned.

  Alexis quickly rose from the porch and brushed past Lynette as she headed to her room. “Alexis,” Lynette called. “Leave me alone,” she answered. She slammed her door, locked it, and cried herself to sleep thinking about the New Juan.

  MY DECISION

  “Not again,” Lexis mumbled to herself as her mouth filled with saliva. She shut her eyes and took in deep breaths, turning onto her right side. She anticipated that would have made the feeling go away, but it didn’t. She shielded her mouth, jumped out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. Unfortunately, her pajamas and the floor caught most of her breakfast. She didn’t like the fact that she lost t
otal control of her bodily functions whenever she ate.

  I haven’t peed on myself since I was two years old, she shook her head thinking. She supposed that vomiting should have made her feel better, but it hadn’t, not a second of alleviation. My doctor has misinformed me. He said that I was experiencing morning sickness, yet, I’ve experienced this feeling all day and all night; sleep is my only escape. It’s Morning Sickness my butt. I promise I won’t put myself through this again. It’s horrible, she told herself. Just horrible.

  The distant sounds of Alexis barfing were heard through the bathroom’s vent, and Barbara stopped washing clothes and had gone upstairs to check on her. She knocked on the door to make sure that she was all right, as if there was something that she could have done. She muttered that she was okay, as she wiped her mouth and commenced to brush her teeth. She tried to stop the urge to vomit as she brushed her teeth like she had done a million times before, but now it became a challenge. This feeling was downright awful.

  She felt lightheaded again, so she quickly showered before Diane came to take her to the clinic. Diane was never late for anything; she didn’t operate on C.P. Time. After she stepped out of the shower, she hurried into her room to stretch across the bed because lying down eased the queasiness. She gawked at the ceiling as she intently looked into L.L. Cool J’s eyes asking him (as if he really could respond to her) if she was going to be all right after the procedure.

  Her room was painted his favorite color red, and the walls were plastered with images of him everywhere. She was smitten with him ever since she heard I Need Love.

  She apprehensively watched the minutes on the alarm clock tick closer to nine o’ clock. One thing that she couldn’t wait to resolve was the constant arguing with her mother about getting the procedure done, and being sick from eating and certain smells. Furthermore, Juan not wanting the baby hadn’t helped the situation.

  Barbara wandered into her room and sat on the corner of the bed explaining to Alexis that they didn’t need Juan, his aunt’s money or their support. She had traveled down this road before with Jeanette years ago, and she wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. Barbara tried to convey what she had heard about the procedure, but she’d managed to make it sound nothing less than “tormenting.”

  Diane knocked on the bedroom door, bursting in. “Are you ready?”

  “Damn, why do you bother to knock if you’re just going to burst in?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m ready,” but her brain thought differently. Barbara realized that their discussion hadn’t changed her daughter’s mind, the decision was final. She was going to go through with it.

  Barbara cleaned the house from top to bottom whenever she was worried about something. At this precise moment, she frantically wiped down the walls in the living room, as she babbled to herself. Alexis knew that she wasn’t going to be able to get out of the house without one last appeal from her mother. And she was right.

  “You don’t have to do this Lexis,” she said, still wiping the base of the windows. “You are going to regret it.”

  “Mama, I don’t feel like this today,” she pronounced. “I’m too young for a baby right now.”

  “You should’ve thought about that before you got yourself into this situation, besides, I told you that boy was no good!”

  She sighed. “That’s irrelevant now mama, I have found that out the hard way and on my own.”

  She shook her head. “You girls never listen to me, and you’re still not listening,” she rotated to Diane. “I’m surprised that you allowed her to put you in the middle of this.”

  Oh boy, Diane thought. “You’ve taught us to stick together no matter what, and because she is doing something that you oppose mama, you are angry. I don’t think that is fair ma. This is her decision and I’m supporting whatever she decides to do.” Diane said as she walked towards the door. “Bye mama, I love you old lady,” she laughed.

  “Bye ma,” Alexis said.

  “Hmm,” she replied.

  Barbara despised when Diane had persuasive facts about things, and she couldn’t argue with them. No one asked her to be right today, she thought.

  Jeanette and Barbara’s relationship hasn’t been the same since that hot day in August 1975, when they took that trip to see Dr. Brooks for an abortion. Even though she tried to put a stop to Alexis going through with it, she just wanted to fight on the behalf of her unborn grandchild. He or she can’t talk so she tried to do it.

  She decided to take a break from cleaning the floors long enough to get onto her knees and say a prayer. “I tried. It’s in your hands now Lord.”

  DRAMA QUEENS

  Marion had unloaded the girls off at Eastland Mall, and they walked in and out after he had vanished from the parking lot.

  “How do you know that he’s gone,” Lexis asked.

  She snickered. “He just left, and I’ll bet he’s already past Crusade Street.”

  They were in store for a forty-minute hike from the mall to the clinic. They walked and reminisced about the different occasions that their mother had shown out on them, or on other people, making the long walk not too bad. They could always get a good laugh reflecting on the acts of their mother.

  As they walked to the clinic, Diane complained about how many liquor stores were within the three miles to the mall.

  “Seven stores, that’s too many!”

  She’s about to start, oh Jesus help, Alexis prayed. She chuckled, “You nitpick about everything; everything is a conspiracy to you. Please don’t embarrass me in here.”

  “Embarrass you?” she questioned with buck eyes. “You got me going into a clinic where I don’t want to go and don’t feel com-”

  “You’re going to get hit,” Alexis grabbed her sister’s arm and hauled her across Eight Mile’s busy intersection as they ran to the inside lane and waited for the coast to clear; leaped right out of the frying pan and into the skillet, and finally made it to the other side of the street. Sharks were anticipating their arrival.

  A little old, white woman and two men were posted like soldiers in front of the private clinic. They badgered the patients as they approached the corners of the clinic from both directions. Alexis understood why they felt they needed to be there, but she wasn’t feeling well, and her mind was made up. She didn’t want to hear what anyone had to say.

  The frail old lady pushed around a stroller with a picture of a dead fetus on a poster board, looking to make eye contact with you, so she could begin her ritual of salvation. These prolife crusaders reminded Diane of the beggars, she would encounter at the neighborhood stores, as long as you didn’t make eye contact with them, they usually wouldn’t ask you for “spare” change. She tried to look “busy” and avoid looking at the old lady as she walked towards the entrance of the clinic.

  The man at the opposite corner was talking and passing out Rosaries and praying for people. Alexis disregarded them all walking ahead, but the woman’s eyes trapped Diane’s and she turned the poster board around so that Diane could see AND hear what she had to say, but the conversation took a funny turn. She had stopped the wrong person today.

  “First of all, what makes you assume that I’m even pregnant?” she stopped dead in her tracks, as she questioned the man. “You heard that saying about ASSUMING? You obviously have every right to walk up and down this street, but harassing people isn’t cool. This clinic provides pregnancy tests and ultrasounds so you don’t know why people are here, and I feel it’s an invasion of their privacy, nonetheless. How would you feel if we came to your job boycotting that your company is destroying the ozone layer, and you should quit?”

  “Diane Nicole Brown! Come on,” she roared.

  The woman and a few nosey clients stood there stunned listening to her get them straight. Once Diane said her peace, they walked into the room and it fell silent. You heard the people breathing. Alexis rolled her eyes as she walked toward the sign in sheet. Diane’s nose burned instantly from the strong smell of
rubbing alcohol.

  The setting reminded her of the urgent care that she had gone to when she fell off her bike requiring stitches. The clinic was packed like a can or sardines. Inside sat thirteen teenagers: five black girls, seven white girls and one Hispanic girl, who sat next to their boyfriends, mother or friend, and now its six black girls and her sister. The door creaked.

  “Jessica Taylor.”

  She looked like a sad puppy when she asked her mother to go in the back with her because she was scared. Her mother declined. She said since she wasn’t there when she’d gotten pregnant, she wasn’t going to be back there when she terminated it.

  “You’re on your own big girl. No time to be scared now. I told you,” she said sarcastically. “Where is he at now?”

  Jessica stormed away with tears tumbling down her cheeks, and her mother kindly picked up the magazine and finished reading. The stares she’d received after that performance would have made Faye Dunaway’s Mommy Dearest character look like, The Mother of the Century. She had warned her daughter about sneaking off with that (black) thug after school, and now she’s showing her tough love. Maybe she might listen to her mother, or maybe next time all of them will listen to their mothers.

  “Why did she even come?” whispered someone in the clinic.

  “Her daughter must be a minor,” her friend replied.

  Diane had known that it was impolite to stare at people, but she was intrigued that there were so many different races of women under one roof. Statistics would make you believe that only black, young women were having abortions; which wasn’t true. Not if they were to take statistics right now at this clinic.

  The door creaked again, catching the people’s attention. The nurse said, “Abby Kruchowski.”

  Diane passed this place a thousand times, and she never imagined in a million years that she would have been sitting in here. She noticed one of the girls who sat by the television spitting into a Dixie Cup. How disgusting?