When dell met angel, p.22
When Dell Met Angel, page 22
At a house party full of smoke, booze and a never ending game of Spades, I could feel this handsome stranger’s eyes on me the entire night. Every time I looked across the room, he was doing the same and our eyes locked and there was most definitely kismet shooting across the room between us.
“Excuse me,” he said, when he finally got the nerve to approach me. “Are you a Scorpio?” he asked.
“I’m sorry?” I thought I heard the question wrong above the bassy R&B music.
“Are you a Scorpio?” he repeated into my ear.
“No.”
“Aquarius?”
“No sir.”
“Capricorn?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Then we can go out.”
“Oh can we?” I laughed openly at his presumptuousness. “Did I pass some kind of test?”
“Yes.”
He sipped from his cup and I stood there, intrigued. Young and stupid, that was actually a good opening line for me. “Do you want to know what my sign is?”
“Yeah. On our first date. I’m Kessean. My friends call me Kess. And you are?” he asked, hand extended.
“Angel,” I said, taking his hand.
“Lucky me.”
He was smooth. We talked for hours that evening. I was used to dating guys whose attention on me was far more superficial, but he was so damn interested in me and my family and personal goals. My friends loved him from the start and I fell pretty fast.
He was my first real, adult boyfriend. All my previous relationships were kiddy play love. Nothing serious to speak of. I wasn't really interested in being locked down before. I dated plenty of guys, but never really had an official boyfriend, but Kess wanted me all to himself and he was aggressive about it.
Things started off well and we moved in together just a little over six months later. I had just turned twenty. A year later, we got married in a small ceremony with just immediate family. I was never a big pomp and circumstance kind of girl and he kept a really tight circle, so small was fine. But it was also a sign to come.
Financially, he did pretty well for himself working in film production and pushed the idea of me staying home and playing housewife hard.
It was a nice change of pace to be taken care of for once. I didn’t have to worry about bills and all I had to do was keep the house clean and have dinner ready. It was a role I played for my siblings for a while, so the arrangement felt familiar and fair. The perils of youth.
We moved to Nevada a few months after where he took on a new job working in production for the Blue Man Group.
I had never been so bored in my life. It was a restless existence. Wake up. Clean. Laundry. Groceries. Errands. Bedroom duties.
With no friends around to blow off steam, I found myself sleeping through the days and nights. When I expressed myself to him, he told me I just needed a hobby. I needed more than that. I needed a purpose beyond dry cleaning and roast beef recipes. I realized soon enough, I’m not the stay at home type and that didn’t quite work for him.
“I need to work,” I explained, to him over dinner. “I can’t stand how quiet it is here. I need to do things. I need the friction of people.”
I got nothing. He chugged down his beer and stabbed at his steak.
He was shut down and I doubted he even heard me. I moved to the chair adjacent to him.
“Maybe a part-time wouldn’t hurt. I saw they were hiring at-”
“You know what you need?” He finally piped up, loosening the tie from around his neck further than he already had it. “We should have a baby.”
“A baby?” I echoed with the wind knocked out of me.
“Yeah, it’s the perfect solution. Your search for fulfillment can be found in motherhood,” he said, with an air of arrogance that stirred me in the worst way. “I know you’d be a really good mom to our kids.”
I laughed, but only to keep from jacking him up by the collar.
“Kess,” I started, softening my tone and demeanor so as not to start an all out war. “I already told you. I’m not interested in having kids.”
He dropped his fork. It clanged against the side of the plate. He slid his tongue across his front teeth, sucked it clean and wiped his mouth with the edge of the table cloth. The aggression in those small gestures had me triggered.
It’s not like I wasn’t clear about that from the start. Perhaps he was hoping I’d change my mind. I was under the impression he felt the same way, but as I read the grave disappointment on his face, I knew that wasn’t the case.
“Is it that you don’t want kids?” he asked, contempt laced in his low rumbling voice. “Or is it that you don’t want kids with me?”
“It’s got nothing to do with you. I just don’t want kids. I literally raised my siblings. I’m done raising kids.”
He nodded, smiled tight. “How’s that fair to me?”
“I told you this on our very first date.”
“You said, you were open.”
“I said, if it happened, like an accident, I would keep it. But that’s different than actively deciding to have them.”
“Okay. Got it,” he said, hopping out of his seat. He snatched the beer bottle from the table, took a sip and launched the green empty vessel across the room. It shattered across the kitchen wall. That was the first time I saw that side of him. It put me on high alert.
I endured two weeks of the silent treatment from him as a result. I already didn’t have friends I could hang out with and now he was cutting off what little interaction I had with him. I was a ghost in that house, half alive. And things just stayed different after that. It dawned on me that this was the real man behind the mask he presented and this version wasn't the man I fell in love with.
When he had friends over, I needed to make myself scarce, even if the guests were his women friends. Not that he told me expressly that I couldn’t hangout. He just made it a problem to do so. Either he kept sending me to fetch all kinds of unnecessary things or he would flat out embarrass me, telling his friends about things I’d do for him in bed or just teasing me in front of them about things I was sensitive about. It was just one of the ways he controlled me without violence. All the harm was done to my soul.
His mother came to visit us for a week and I thought I would find an ally in her. I had someone I could talk and hang out with finally. I even had fantasies about having conversations about Kess that would result in her giving him some advice on how to better treat me. But she wasn’t interested in hearing any of the ways she failed to raise an emotionally stable human being.
I found her extremely difficult to talk to, uppity, in that, light-bright, thin-nosed Philly negro way I knew I’d never be able to get through, but I thought she was, at the very least, an independent minded woman.
The first thing out of her mouth the moment she saw me was, ‘Where’s my grand baby?’
It came off as sweet and harmless at first, but it’s the only thing she wanted to talk to me about. She reminded me on several occasions, I was her only hope for producing a grandchild as Kess was her only son.
She wasn’t beyond crossing boundaries bringing up the best sex positions and letting me know I should lay for hours with his semen in me to give his swimmers a good chance.
When I told her I wasn’t planning on having any children, she damn near cried. She called me selfish and I was on her shit list then. As a parting gift, I was given fertility dolls and a warning that if I didn’t live up to my duties as a wife, Kess would probably soon look for another.
Strangely enough, I didn’t believe that. Kess with all his faults was the love you do death kind of guy. He’d rather see me dead than with someone else. He’d prefer to impose his will which is where things really got scary.
My birth control started going missing. At first I thought I was misplacing them, and he’d pressure me into having sex during those periods, even when I told him I was ovulating or it wasn’t a good time to take chances. Sometimes they’d turn up miraculously, sometimes I had to do some really deep searches.
Once I found them hidden at the bottom of the bathroom waste basket, and it was the confirmation I needed to know he was working his way to trapping me with an unwanted pregnancy.
It was a violation of the highest order and when I confronted him with it, he told me it was all in my head, that I was the one who was careless. I had to start hiding them so he wouldn’t get to them.
When his plan to throw me off course didn’t work, he started withholding his affection. He no longer spoke to me, but now he no longer wanted to touch me either, not that I really wanted him to at that point. But I felt strangely rejected at all times. I could feel the loneliness scraping at my brain, I felt it in my bones. I felt crazy and that made me want to sleep that much more.
When I asked if this was how things were going to be from now on, he gave me ultimatums.
“You’re the one being weird,” he said, from his space on the couch. “If you really loved me, you’d have my baby.”
“That’s crazy Kess. Do you hear yourself?”
“Do you hear yourself? What kind of woman doesn’t want to be a mother?”
“A perfectly good one. You can’t force me into having children and if you’re waiting for me to come around, it’s not gonna happen.”
“You know we don’t have to do this, right?” he spat my way. “You are free to pack your shit and go.”
“I’m sorry what?”
“You can leave.”
He repeated it casually, didn’t even look my direction while flipping the channels on the t.v. I thought twice about it only for a few seconds. “You’re right.”
It was while packing I realized how far deep in a hole I had been. If I had wings, they were bound and his careless words for me to leave, set me free. In just a few minutes, I packed a large bag with all that I cared to take with me. And then it hit me, I had no car or money to get anywhere. I’d have to somehow get my hands on the debit card he kept in his wallet and ask him for a ride. I didn’t think he would do me such much a favor.
I rang up a couple of old friends. Only one person picked up, my friend Dezi who I grew up with around the neighborhood. While I explained my situation and asked for her help, he came into the room and yanked the phone from me.
“Why’re you trying to make it seem like I’m abusing you’? Have I ever put my hands on you?”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“No, but I heard you tell her that I’ve thrown things at you.”
“You throw bottles all the time.”
“Never at you though.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t feel safe in this house with you.”
“Bullshit. You’re so damn dramatic about everything.”
I moved to pick up my luggage, but he grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave,” he said, switching up his energy entirely. It gave me whiplash, honed in just how unstable he was.
“Let. Go.”
“I was just talkin’ shit, please,” he said, pulling me in tight. He squeezed me in his arms and I fought myself out of his hold. “Get off of me. I’m serious, Kess.”
He pushed me away from him. I had to brace myself from careening into the footboard of our bed. He never really hit me, but these small aggressions were sure to add up to bigger ones sooner than later.
I went for my bag and zipped it up, more determined than ever to leave.
Hands knitted at the back of his head, I could feel his regret, feel the tension building in him, around him, between us and I knew I had to make my exit soon.
“I should’ve slapped some sense into you after all,” he threatened.
“I’d like to see you try.”
He got in my face, snatching his bottom lip beneath his teeth as though he needed all the willpower he could muster to keep himself from snatching me up. He grabbed my luggage and flung it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud thud.
“Don’t test me.”
“Kess, get out of my face.”
“Or what?”
My heart pounded so hard, I thought I’d pass out, but it wasn’t out of fear. It was adrenaline coursing through my veins. If he even thought he’d put his hands on me, we were just going to have to fight.
I think he could see it in me, that fight response. It didn’t matter how much stronger he was than me. If I had a black eye, he’d have one too. Chairs, vases, tables, tigers and bears. I planned on using everything at my disposal if it came to that.
My phone rang from where it fell on the floor earlier. He looked at it and after a few seconds of deafening silence, we both went for it. He snatched it up from the ground and held it up away from me.
“Give me my phone.”
“I’m sorry. What phone?” he asked. You mean, my phone? Because the last I checked, I bought this phone and I pay the bill. I was just letting you use it.”
“Real mature. You’ve got problems you know that? I can see it clear as day now. You have everyone fooled. Definitely fooled me. You’re a fraud. An insecure, little man child.”
He strolled out of the room with the phone in his pocket, completely unaffected by my words.
I was shaking, grabbed my bag and followed him into the kitchen. I needed that phone to make arrangements, but he wanted to play games. It was only then I realized how down deep I was at his mercy.
“Can I have the phone back? Please.”
“You said you were leaving. Why are you still here?”
“If you gave me the phone, I could be on my way.”
“Sorry. Can’t help you. Guess you’ll have to figure out some other way to lie to your friends about me.”
“I don’t even have any friends because you bitch about everyone I talk to.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Watch my mouth? Stop playing and give me the phone.”
“Get out of my house.”
“Not without the phone.”
He was testing my resolve. Grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter, he moved with purpose to the router that lived in the living room by the tv and yanked out the box so I wouldn’t have internet access either. This I found the most aggressive act, even more than that slick shove. This was false imprisonment was it not? You think you can leave because the gate is wide open, but waiting for you, right at the edge of freedom is a false door.
“I don’t want to see you here when I get back,” he shot in my direction, taking one last opportunity to push past me with his shoulder.
It was well played. Whether or not he expected I’d actually leave was a mystery, but I was determined to get out from under him. The way I let him take over my life was baffling, but I could see clearly now.
When I went for the door, I found it locked from the inside. He had a Smart Lock installed on all the exterior doors when we moved in under the guise of protection. He could control who comes in and out remotely.
My heart raced to the realization that this man was beyond help and I was in greater danger than I had ever realized. He was so passive about how he hurt and controlled me, I didn’t quite catch the signs I thought a street smart chick like me would.
The dining room area had three large windows that let all in the light for the kitchen and living room. It had sash style windows I could easily slide up and step out of.
I threw my bag out first and stepped out of that window with a promise to myself. No man would ever get the opportunity to trap me again.
My next door neighbor was home. Her car sat on the driveway and it felt like a lifeline. After a few minutes of knocking on her door she finally opened it. I’m sure she was watching for a minute hoping I’d just leave. She wasn’t the friendliest person on the block after Kess cussed her out once for letting her guests park in front of our yard.
I explained my crazy situation to her, and she was beyond helpful.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” she said, handing me a box of tissue. “The crazy is in the eyes.”
She was probably right, but I was blind to it. I was beside myself when everything had settled in and I was grateful for her help, simply allowing me to use her phone and computer to get funds and an airplane ticket to my friend Stacey’s back home to Cali.
Kess took about a week before he tried reaching out, contacting me by email since he no longer had a number he could reach me. It was everything I expected, some really good apologies, a lot of groveling, and begging for me to come back home.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t want him thinking there was any room for hope. Even a ‘go fuck yourself’ would’ve started a dialogue.
I was free from his mind games and emotional abuse. It took getting out to see everything he was doing for what it was and I was glad to be out before it got to a really bad place.
Love made me foolish. Love made me blind. I didn’t trust it, nor could I see myself loving or trusting another man like that again.
I don’t know how the gold-diggers do it. It’s dangerous to put your life in someone's hand like that. Being cared for is a false fantasy and no woman should fall for it. It was lesson #10 in my book:
‘A Womans’s Best Protection Is A little of Her Own Money’
-Clare Luce
…I learned this lesson the hard way, never put your financial needs in someone else’s hands. Though money can’t buy true happiness, money is freedom. It provides access to resources and most importantly, gives you control over your life. Use your skills, talents, assets and knowledge at your disposal. YOU are more than capable of creating and building your best life. A partner should only be a bonus. As the saying goes, make your own money so a man has nothing, but loyalty to offer you.
Today, I would amend that to end with ‘make your own money.’ Period.
Not everyone would agree to that. But I’m not talking to everyone. My book was written for independent women who aren’t interested in marriage and children to a man or anyone who would see them live their lives according to the traditional societal boxes laid out for them. I didn’t know I could be that before Kess. I sort of went with the flow and thought I could have him and be who I am at the same time.
My reinstated freedom left me financially destitute. I needed a job fast not only to contribute for the room I was given in my friend’s condo, but to get out of her hair. It wasn’t even really her place. She was staying with some old white dude who creeped me out a little with his super tan and super bleached teeth.
