So this is the one that probably a few of you have been expecting and I have been dreading (to write). But, writing is my outlet so maybe this will be good for me. Here goes...
Have you ever thought that you were in love? Been so mesmerized by this one person that you would've done anything to be by his side? Felt so honored to even have his attention that it made you high? Have you ever trusted that person so much that despite what everyone else could plainly see you stuck by him anyway? Have you ever put so much faith in one person that despite all odds you knew they were going to do the right thing?
I have.
And I was tossed to the side like insignificant trash.
Here's the rest of the story now. When I was 16 (during the summer before my sophomore year in high school) I met a guy. I thought I had fallen hard for this guy... this guy who was 20. At that age I was completely stoked that a MAN - a grown fucking man - was showing interest in me. I'm sure most of you can remember what it's like being 16. It blew my mind that he even acknowledged me - much less showed me attention. Anyway, he was sexy as hell, he was kind, he was charming, he was talented (he sang and danced in talent shows before he graduated). He was, indeed, everything I thought I wanted.
Needless to say we ended up together; but that was not an easy task. He was a black man and (as some of you know) people don't have much tolerance for mixing races here in the South. My family was no exception. As you'd probably expect - that caused a lot of problems between me and my family; they didn't want their daughter fucking no "ni**er." Well, that didn't stop me. I was in love, remember? Things would be ok; true love conquers all, right? ... Of course it does.
Things progressed, we were together, and naturally I felt closer to him. That's what happens when you're with someone. I also started sleeping with him. A lot. Hey - I was 16 and my hormones were in control. That's no excuse, but that's what happened. All this time that we were together things were happening. Not bad things, necessarily. Just things that should have caught my attention.
Like he'd leave for days and I wouldn't hear from or see him at all... I just thought that since he was grown he had some important adult stuff going on and left it at that. If I did ask questions he was usually gone visiting family or something - so whatever. I trusted him. Deeply, mind you - so I didn't really care what he was up to because I KNEW he wasn't doing anything he shouldn't have been. Also, he would come to see me and be sick... REALLY sick - just of out the blue and I wouldn't know what was going on and I'd be all worried about him...
Well, let's get to the part where I find out I'm pregnant. Yes, I am 16 and pregnant with a little "ni**er baby" as so many people in my hometown liked to remind me. I am also scared because all of my family practically hates me, and I'm in high school, and I have no income, and I don't know about babies, and I have nowhere else to go, and I'm overwhelmed because WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO NOW?!?!?! Those were my initial thoughts... After that wore off, I accepted it; became happy and excited about it, even. I was going to be a mom. I was having a baby! And the father of this child was going to be there for me. He said it. He PROMISED me that. And I totally believed him.
After the initial shock wore off of my mother - not to mention a lot of yelling (btw, my mom is who I was living with at the time) she told me that as long as I'd finish high school I could stay there and she'd help me however she could. Wow, what a relief. I've got my mom backing me as well as the father of my child... things might be ok. Well, my man had family elsewhere and he asked me if it would be fine if he goes of out state for two weeks to visit them... you know - before he comes back here to settle down and take care of us. Of course I didn't mind. Yes, I believed he'd come back. "Go and have fun, be sure to tell them the news... I'll see you in two weeks."
Well damn if I didn't give him the easiest out possible. I didn't see or hear from him for the whole two weeks... not too strange. Two weeks turned into months... all the while, this little miracle growing in my belly, and my excitement growing, too. But my faith... my faith in him was being tested. I was a little over two months along... where the hell was he? No phone calls or letters were returned. No family members knew exactly where he was. Still, I held on. He was coming back.
Despite all of the sleepless nights wondering, worrying about the father of my child, all of the crying from sheer frustration, all of the sickness that comes with being pregnant... those were somehow happy days for me. I was going to be a mother. I had proof of this; the first time I felt my belly jerk with life of its own I cried. I cried because I was so happy; I was ecstatic. There was something IN me, and it was moving. I heard it's heart beat and it was alive. It was mine to take care of and protect... My life had more meaning than it ever had before... I honestly think that's when I became more determined than ever to take care of this little stranger inside me - no matter what.
Soon the summer was over and school started back. People talk and eventually everyone knew pieces of my business... that didn't help things. But I handled situations and questions with as much grace as I could muster and went about life. I got my usual good grades in school; and even managed to stay in band. This became my normal. And then one day, he showed up.
It was early October, I think. I was about 5 months along. I can't even begin to describe how I felt. I was angry, I was overjoyed, I was frustrated... I was a lot of things. He was around for maybe a few days before giving me this line about helping his mother move... but he was coming back. I wanted so desperately to believe him that I just did. I shouldn't have, though. I shouldn't have believed a damn word that ever came out of his mouth. It was shortly after he left the second time that I had proof - more proof than I ever, ever wanted - that he'd been lying to me. He'd been cheating on me the whole time.
So the months roll by... November, December, January, February... I spent my birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and Valentines Day all without hearing from him. Keep in mind that he doesn't know that I know what he'd been up to at this point, and he said he was coming right back. So time went by without so much as even a phone call from him. Except this time he had a good reason. He was in jail (which I didn't find out until early March after he was out). Let's just say it was drug-related, which later I found out had everything to do with him constantly being sick.
During this time I'd gotten quite big. The sickness had stopped; so had the complete and utter exhaustion that comes early in pregnancy. And my belly had taken a personality of its own. It moved, it wiggled, it responded to familiar voices, it jerked violently at the sound of sudden noises. The little creature inside me would stretch out and it would hurt me. But it was awesome and I loved every minute of it. Mentally I'd taken the attitude that I did not need this man - the one I'd thought so highly of for so long. I'd given him more opportunities to prove himself and make things right than anyone ever deserved. I'd let myself be vulnerable to him for the last time. I was done. From then on it was about me and my child.
And then - as if he thought he had a place in my life somehow - the man I thought I loved called. It was shortly before my due date and he was out of jail. He asked if I'd had the baby - to which I responded no - and then he asked if I would let him be there when I did. I told him yes. And he was.
Labor went surprisingly easy and when the nurses handed me my beautiful creation all I could do was cry and say "my baby." It was so nice to finally meet him. March 15th of 2000 was the happiest day of my life.
A few weeks after that the father came to me and said that he didn't feel like I cared for him anymore. I told him that I'd appreciated what he'd given me, but there was nothing in me left for him beyond that. He knew he'd fucked up. He cried, he begged, and he laid in the floor and puked. Then he left again.
Well, that's about the end of the whole thing... me and my son have seen him once in six years... Shadow seemed fond of him that day; he was 3 though - so anyone who would play with him was good in his eyes. He calls once a year on his birthday - not much more often than that, if at all. I worry about the emotional scars this might leave my son. To this day he asks why his father doesn't want to see him... to that I just reply that he lives far away. (He's not in the state). My son will catch on sooner or later and then I don't know what I will do...
In any case I hope the emotional damage dealt him is not as significant as what I've carried all of this time... What's so bad is that it's only been maybe the last year or two that I've realized I am damaged. I have someone in my life who I know (because he's proven himself) would never hurt me or disregard my feelings that way and I can't give him all that he deserves. I know this and I hate it. I hope one day that I can, though, be the person he deserves. Truly, I am working on it. Like I said: I want to heal; I want to feel, like I'm close to something real...
