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“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
We hung up. But the thought of leaving Jersey stayed with me. If I did leave, maybe I would like it. I had heard Atlanta was the metropolitan Mecca of the South. But what would I do, if I didn’t like it? Ty probably wouldn’t take me back. And if he did, my life would be three times worse than what it had been. If I wanted to come back to Jersey, I’d have no place to stay. I’d be homeless. Or I’d just have to stay there and try to make the best of it until I was able to get back on my feet. I was so deep in thought about the prospect of finally breaking free from Ty, that I didn’t hear him walk in. He startled me when he spoke.
“Who was that on the phone?” he asked, standing in the doorway, barechested with a pair of sweats on. Oh, how I loved that body.
“My sister,” I responded, turning my back on him before I weakened.
“What’d she want?”
“Nothing. She was just calling to see how I was doing.”
; He grunted. “I’ll be glad when she gets a life of her own,” he said, walking up behind me. He pressed himself into me, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me on my neck. His hands found their way around to my breasts, where he gently kneaded them. My nipples perked up. “Come on, Baby. Let me make love to you.”
He smelled good. He stuck his tongue in my ear, nibbled on my earlobe, then reached down and slid his hand between my legs. I widened my stance. I was slipping. And didn’t care. I needed him. I bent over, pulling up my nightgown, willingly offering myself to him. He pulled his erect manhood out over his sweats, then entered me, temporarily erasing all my troubles. I didn’t know what the morning would bring, but right at that moment, the only thing that mattered was, him loving me—no matter how slight.
Two days later, I returned home from my doctor’s appointment, knowing just how much control Ty really had over me—emotionally, mentally, and physically. The thought of needing to take birth control had never crossed my mind. Why should it? We always used a condom. Well, little did I know Ty had been poking holes in them for months, trying to get me pregnant! His plan worked. I was three months pregnant. And feeling more trapped.
I prayed, asking God to guide me in my decisions, to give me the strength to live my life according to His plan, and to keep His blanket of grace and mercy on me. I needed a sign. The only person I had told about my pregnancy was my sister. I drove straight from the doctor’s office to her home, crying.
“Does he know?” she asked, hugging me.
I shook my head in her chest.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I love him, Portia.” We let silence take over for a beat. She just listened. Waited patiently. “I’m so confused. I don’t think I can live without him. We have our fights. But he loves me.”
“Persia, sweetheart,” she said, rubbing my face. “He doesn’t love you. No man who loves you hurts you the way he does. And beating on someone who you supposedly care about is not love—it’s abuse. You don’t deserve that. No woman does.”
“But I can’t leave him,” I said, wiping my face with the sleeve of my shirt. “Not now. I don’t want to raise a baby by myself.”
“You can leave him,” she said, reassuringly. “You can pack up and leave with us next week. And you won’t be raising your baby by yourself. I’ll help you.”
“But I’m carrying his child. I can’t keep it from him. He has to know.”
“Then tell him.”
“He won’t let me leave him.”
“What do you mean, he won’t let you leave him? If you want to leave, there’s nothing he can do to stop you.”
I sighed. “Portia, you don’t understand—”
“No,” she snapped, cutting me off. “I do understand. He’s a damn nut. And that’s all there is to it. I understand that he has you living in fear, walking on eggshells. Not knowing when the next bomb is going to go off. I understand all too well. But you understand something. I love you. And I know I can’t tell you how to live your life. But it’s not about you anymore. You have a child inside of you. What good is it going to be if you stay with a man who beats on you whenever he feels like it?
“If that’s the life you want. Then fine. But no child deserves to be witness to that. You want to stay with him, then you stay. But what happens when he kills you, Persia, huh? What happens when your unborn child doesn’t have a mother because his father beat her to death? Please tell me, Persia. What happens then?”
Her words slapped me, forcing me to take a sad look at my reality. I burst into tears. “I can’t leave him, Portia. He’s really trying. We haven’t fought in months.”
She rolled her eyes up in her head. “So now I guess you think he deserves a medal. Wake the fuck up, Persia. He had no damn business putting his hands on you in the first place. If you’re afraid of leaving him, then sign a damn restraining order against him.”
I shook my head. I heard everything she said. But I couldn’t respond. My emotions were stuck in my throat. I coughed up a ball of pain, sobbing. I cried until my chest hurt. The air around me was thinning. I was feeling lightheaded. “I can’t live without him. I need him.”
