Nobody's Son (12 page)

“That brotha is fine as frog's hair,” Latisha said. “If you don't want him, pass him my way.” She gulped down the last of her virgin strawberry margarita and signaled the bartender to bring her another one.

Good looks did not often impress her, but Ellen had to admit that Semaj was very attractive. His skin was light, although not as light as hers, and he had a very low, sexy, faded haircut that reminded her of Shemar Moore. He was almost six foot tall, and he had a slim but muscular build. When he smiled, his teeth were perfect and white behind full lips that she imagined were very soft. She had to admit, he was incredibly sexy.

“Of course he's good looking. He works in television on the news,” she said. “The date is going so well. I just was feeling a little unsure of myself.”

“Get over it and get back over there,” Melanie said. “You've been praying for a good man for a long time, Ellen. I think Semaj is the answer to your prayers.”

Ellen had to agree with her. Semaj seemed to be the answer to all of her prayers.

From that night up until a few weeks prior, Ellen had never doubted that he was sent from God. Throughout their relationship, he had treated her with kindness and respect. Every Valentine's Day, she received a bouquet of a dozen red roses, a cute and cuddly teddy bear, and a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Since they'd met, she'd celebrated her birthday three times and Semaj had made each one special. Once, he'd even baked her favorite chocolate caramel cake from scratch. He'd told her it was his grandmother's recipe, but he wanted to do something special for her that no other man had ever done. They'd attended church service, revivals, and Bible Study together, and she knew that he was a man after God's own heart. During their three-year courtship, he had never pressured her to have sex, and their love was pure and chaste. His track record with finding missing persons made him a local hero that was admired by everyone that knew him, and even those who didn't. Some people who are successful talk about all the haters that they have in their lives, but as far as Ellen knew, there was not a soul who hated Semaj.

Lounging in her bathtub, she remembered all of that and suddenly realized that she'd overreacted to his current moods and made a terrible mistake.

She jumped out of the tub and dried off quickly, then put on her pink terry cloth robe. She sat on the edge of her bed and dialed Semaj's number. As she waited for him to answer she tried to recite her apology in her head. After several rings she began to think that once again he was ignoring her phone calls, then someone picked up.

“Hello,” a woman said.

“Who is this?” Ellen asked.

“This is Gwen, who is this?”

Ellen hung up the phone without answering the question.

Jenise stood outside the door of the meeting hall trying to find the courage to walk in to her first support group for women who are victims of domestic violence. It had taken her years to get there, but she knew that it was the right thing for her, Reggie, and especially Aaliyah.

When her daughter walked in on Reggie hitting her, and then subsequently knocking her to the ground, there was no way that Jenise could make an excuse for it. She was lying on the floor stunned from the force of the blows as Aaliyah stood over her crying her little eyes out. In the past, whenever Reggie hit her, Jenise had been able to successfully hide her bruises from her daughter or tell her a fib to satisfy her questions. This time, there was no lie she could tell. Aaliyah had witnessed everything.

Jenise inhaled. Then she exhaled. Lastly, she pushed open the door and walked into the room. Although the meeting hall was located in the basement of her church, Jenise was surprised when she walked in to see that some of the women were from her own congregation. For some unknown reason, she had assumed that the ministry was set up for and attended by other women within the community. She'd never imagined that so many women in her own church were currently or had been the victims of domestic violence.

“Hello, Jenise.”

She turned in the direction that the voice came from and was surprised to see her former third-grade Sunday School teacher Mrs. Grayson smiling at her. Mrs. Grayson was a wiry old lady with silver hair and cocoa skin who'd known their family since Jenise and Ellen were small children.

“Hi,” Jenise answered nervously.

“Your first time here is always the hardest. Don't be afraid, and don't feel as if you have to talk. There are people here to listen if you want to share, but you don't have to do anything you are not comfortable with.” She smiled reassuringly and led Jenise over to an area with chairs.

Jenise quietly took her seat and looked around the room at all of the women. Many were members of her church, and others were complete strangers. She immediately felt a twinge of apprehension at sharing her business with so many people. For a brief moment, she considered leaving. Then she remembered the heartbreaking sound of her child screaming when Reggie hit her and her bottom suddenly felt glued to the chair. She wasn't sure how it would help, but she knew that she had to stay.

The leader of the group was a black woman in her midforties named Claire. Jenise was immediately impressed by her demeanor, style, and obvious class. Her natural hair was cut in a short, curly afro with brown highlights. She was dressed casually in designer jeans and a nice blouse. Claire stood up and introduced herself, then welcomed everyone to the meeting. The very first thing she did after that was give the ground rules to put everyone at ease.

“This is a safe place, and above all else, we exercise discretion. Some of the ladies here are in hiding. Others have not found the strength to move out, and they go home to their abusers on a daily basis. For that reason, we have some basic rules that are designed to protect all of us. First of all, if you speak with your family, friends, babysitter, or whomever you talk to about where you will be on Tuesday evenings, you need to tell them you are attending a women's Bible Study group. That is a truthful statement as everything we do will be based on biblical principles and taken from our Bibles.”

Claire told them in the past, word had gotten back to the husband of one of the attendees that his wife was attending domestic violence classes and he retaliated by assaulting her. There was a separate class held at the church for couples; however, that particular group was only for those couples who'd reached a point in their marriages that they wanted to work on their domestic violence issues together. According to Claire, unfortunately, the women in their group had not gotten that far yet. Therefore, their primary responsibility was to assist and protect each other. She went on to say that names were not mandatory but welcomed if you wanted to share. The most important ground rule was that everyone attending the meeting must agree to the utmost level of confidentiality. Nothing that was said or done during their sessions was to ever leave the room.

“If you are in hiding, or you feel that you are being stalked, or if your life is in danger, then please let the members of this class know. We encourage you to share a photograph of your husband with the group, so that if he is seen on the premises, we can make you aware and alert the authorities if necessary. Statics tell us that a woman and her children are often in much more danger from their abuser after they leave their home.”

Jenise suddenly felt grateful that she was not in such a predicament. After his assault on their apartment, she had not seen or heard from Reggie and felt confident that she would not.

Next, Claire rattled off some startling statistics regarding domestic violence. “Every nine seconds in the United States a woman is assaulted or beaten. Around the world, at least one in every three women has been beaten, coerced into sex, or otherwise abused during her lifetime. Most often, the abuser is a member of her own family. Domestic violence is the leading cause of injury to women—more than car accidents, muggings, and rapes combined. Studies suggest that up to ten million children witness some form of domestic violence annually,” Claire said.

Hearing that statistic made Jenise think of Aaliyah again. She made a mental note to ask if there was any type of counseling she could get for her daughter.

Claire continued. “Nearly one in five teenage girls who have been in a relationship have stated a boyfriend threatened violence or self-harm if presented with a breakup. Every day in the United States, more than three women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends. Ninety-two percent of women surveyed listed reducing domestic violence and sexual assault as their top concern. Domestic violence victims lose nearly eight million days of paid work per year in the United States alone, which is the equivalent of thirty-two thousand full-time jobs. Based on reports from ten countries, between 55 and 95 percent of women who had been physically abused by their partners had never contacted nongovernmental organizations, shelters, or the police for help. The costs of intimate partner violence in the United States alone exceed five point eight billion dollars. Four point one billion are for direct medical and health care services, while productivity losses account for nearly one point eight billion. Men who as children witnessed their parents' domestic violence are two times more likely to abuse their own wives than sons of nonviolent parents.”

Jenise was startled by the numbers. She'd had no idea how prevalent domestic violence was, or how costly.

As if sensing everyone's reaction, Claire spoke again to reassure them. “I know these numbers can be a bit frightening and overwhelming, but they are necessary. Most victims of domestic violence believe that they are alone in their pain and that no one could ever understand how they feel. The statistics prove that simply is not true. Everyone here has been abused by a loved one. You are not alone, and we do understand.”

During the next phase of the meeting, Claire allowed the women there the opportunity to share their stories. Jenise shrunk down in her chair, praying that she would not have to speak. When Mrs. Grayson stood up to speak, her ears perked up. It was difficult for her to believe that the kindly old baldheaded gentleman she saw in service every Sunday was an abuser, and she was anxious to hear their story. Her suspicions were quickly proven wrong. Mrs. Grayson explained that she'd been abused when she was in her early twenties by her high school sweetheart. The two of them married after she became pregnant when she was only nineteen years old. Jenise could not believe how closely Mrs. Grayson's story resembled her own. Mrs. Grayson went on to say that she had two children with her first husband before she grew weary of the abuse and left him. After they were divorced, she married her current husband that Jenise knew at church.

She wasn't sure if it was proper protocol or not, but Jenise raised her hand to ask a question of Mrs. Grayson. “I left my husband and moved in with my parents,” she said. “But I have to admit that I still love him, and I don't believe God condones divorce. Isn't there any other way?”

“Of course there is, sweetie,” Mrs. Grayson answered. “What we do here is try to help you learn to deal with the pain you've experience with prayer and scriptures. As Claire mentioned, we also have a couple's class for those who can get their husband to attend. We are not here to talk you into divorcing your husband. It's our sincere prayer that every marriage can be saved.”

“While we are not promoting divorce, we also feel it's very important that each and every one of you realize that God does not condone domestic violence. Many women stay in abusive marriages because they believe that God wants them to. That is simply not true,” Claire said. “The scripture tells us in 1 Peter 3:7, ‘In the same way, you husbands must give honor to your wives. Treat your wife with understanding as you live together. She may be weaker than you are, but she is your equal partner in God's gift of new life. Treat her as you should so your prayers will not be hindered.'”