25
October 10, 2008
I had lunch today with John Carroll. It’s hard to believe that he walked back into my life just when I needed someone to lean on. Listening to him as he talked about his life then and now made me, for a fleeting moment, wonder what life would’ve been like if we had stayed connected. It probably wouldn’t have worked. He did say he was divorced twice.
Life with John is not even a question…not even an option. Raphael is my life, and I will love and cherish that man until the day I die. I’m not sure how I was so fortunate to meet the most wonderful man that God created on this earth, but for all the women out there, I’ve got him. He’s my sunshine and my rain. He’s my everything.
Today I shared a bit of myself with John—some of my thoughts and feelings. However, I had not meant to tell him about Afrika…about the rape—that Victor is the father of my child. But it seemed to make sense to do so after I plunged ahead and told him about Victor coming to my house and stalking me. I was at peace with it then, but now I’m having second thoughts and regrets, but it’s way too late.
What if John tells someone else and they tell someone? What if Brenda finds out without me telling her first? How can I tell Brenda after all these years that her husband raped me when I tried to intercede on her behalf? She won’t believe me because I ran. I ran faster than Raphael’s granddaddy did when he tried to dodge a bullet after he was caught in bed with a woman he was putting the moves on who happened to be some other old man’s girlfriend. Now that was funny.
John stood up to Victor today on my behalf. He didn’t flinch or offer any excuses. I was leery about him talking to Victor about his coming to my house, stalking me, and possibly interfering with Afrika’s student account. John went to Victor’s office like Rambo, at least that’s what he told me. John said that Victor played the role of the ultimate professional in his cocky, ‘I’m better than you’ voice. However, when John finished telling Victor that he should think long and hard about approaching me again, John said Victor looked like a steam engine that had been rolled over by a Mack truck. Why am I blushing?
I don’t trust Victor for one second. He’s mean-spirited, and he’s going to make an attempt to get at Afrika and me again. I feel it in my bones, and I’ve got to be ready in case I’m right. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to purchase a gun. Setrina (Mimi) Bailey isn’t going to take any more of that man’s abuse. Victor has only one time to put his hands on me again.
Whew. I need to put my pen down because my hand is still shaking after writing that last paragraph. But I’ve got to write this down. I’m not afraid of Victor, and I’m not going to tolerate his crap anymore. I’m going to protect my family, so if I have to spill Victor’s blood, so be it. He wouldn’t want Raphael to come home and do the deed. That man’s been through Desert Storm, the second war in Iraq, and Afghanistan to protect the United States and the American people, and it wouldn’t take much…in fact, if I tell Raphael the whole truth, Victor’s guts would already be blown all over Durham in the name of defending his family. Okay, I’m through. Good night.
Mimi Bailey
Mimi looked at her journal and read over what she had written. The words were raw, but should something happen to her, she wanted the reader to understand that she bared her soul…that her fear was real, and nothing and no one was going to hurt her or her family anymore.
Getting up from the table, Mimi picked up her journal and put it back in its resting place. Her nerves were still on edge and she went to the fridge and pulled out a half-filled bottle of wine. She poured herself a glass and sipped it, letting the liquid roll to the back of her tongue before finally allowing it to slide down her throat.
Savoring the flavor, Mimi’s mind began to click. She took another sip of her drink, although she didn’t allow it to linger on her tongue as long as the first. She took another sip, put the glass down, and grabbed her BlackBerry.
Mimi leaned on the sink and dialed the numbers fast, as if the call was an emergency. She put the phone to ear and listened while it rang…then she stood up straight as the voice at the other end said, “Hello.”
“Brenda, this is Mimi. We need to talk.”
Brenda stuttered. “When would you like to get together?”
“As soon as you can get away.”
“Well, Victor isn’t here right now. I can meet you wherever you like.”
“How about my house? I’ll give you directions.”
“You know Victor has been trying to keep us apart.”
“Tonight, you’re going to know why.”
Silence replaced the voices. Then Brenda spoke. “I’ll only need your address.”
Mimi gave Brenda her address. “Be careful. I wouldn’t want Victor getting wind of this.”
“He’s probably out with his whore.”
It was Mimi’s turn to be silent. There was more to Brenda’s statement that was left unsaid, and maybe laying her burden on Brenda might not be as hard a chore as she thought.
“I’ll see you when you get here. Park in the space marked for visitors.”
“I’ll see you in a few.”
Mimi closed the lid on her cell and stared in space. Backing down was not an option. She had already committed to the deed she had to do. Her hands began to tremble and instead of picking up her glass, she picked up the wine bottle and emptied the contents directly into her mouth.