Silent Cry (22 page)

“King it is!” I said, laughing. I had no qualms with the name King because the greatest
king I knew was the King of kings — Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God. Tré's
excitement could not be contained. He was overjoyed to have a brother of his very
own. He was so proud that his brother was bigger than all the other babies. He couldn't
wait to hold him and wanted to know when we could take him home. Tré named him King,
but Nate also wanted the baby to have his name, so we settled on Nate King Newton
for this special baby boy. I celebrated his arrival with true joy. Baby King was
a gift from God — this was undeniable.

I was released from the hospital and went home. Nate went off to training camp, so
there was peace while I recovered from the delivery. When King was just six weeks
old, Nate came home from training camp for a court appearance regarding the accusation
of sexual assault. I received a subpoena to appear as a witness. Because I had received
so many calls from this woman in which she gave details about their trips together
and how he took care of her and her child, my testimony was needed to prove they
were in a consensual relationship. The woman had been harassing me with phone calls
from the time
I was three months pregnant with King. I was humiliated and upset that
I had to leave King and go to the courthouse to testify on Nate's behalf.

I arrived at the scheduled time and stood outside the courtroom, waiting for my
turn to go in. Nate stood outside with his attorney, but neither of them engaged
me in any conversation. Never once had I been given any details about the trial or
about Nate's part in the relationship with the woman. I never asked about anything,
and Nate never volunteered anything. I felt hollow inside — no emotion, just numb.
I didn't really care what happened to Nate. I didn't believe he had raped the woman,
but I honestly could not manage to find any warm or concerned feelings for him. I
was filled with disgust, and I wanted nothing to do with him.

I was called not into the courtroom but into a private room with the jury. I was
told to tell exactly what it was I had been experiencing with the plaintiff, and
I gave all the information as it had happened. I also told the people in the room
that Nate and I were experiencing serious marital problems, but I believed God would
fight that battle for me. I told them it was important for me to be able to separate
those things and focus on the facts at hand. I asked them to concentrate on the facts
relevant to the case and not on Nate's status as a cheating husband. I told them
I did not believe this was a case of rape but that this relationship had been consensual.
I told them I was upset — very upset — but the truth is what it is: I did not believe
Nate had raped this woman.

When I came out of the room, I was completely convinced Nate would not be convicted.

“What happened in there?” Nate asked.

“Don't worry,” I said. “You'll be free as usual.”

Nate and his attorney finally had a conversation with me,
a detailed conversation
that made me sick to my stomach. I was shocked when I learned the details of what
had really happened. I shouldn't have been shocked after everything I had been through
with Nate, but I was shocked nevertheless. In fact, I was speechless. I stared at
Nate like he was a total stranger. I wanted him to stay away from me forever. I wanted
to leave that courthouse and have it all be over.

I drove to Ingrid's house to pick up six-week-old King. She asked me to come inside,
and I sat down in a chair, wanting to cry, but I couldn't. My tears had dried up.
I had no feelings whatsoever. Inside, I was crumbling, but on the outside, my tears
wouldn't flow.

Ingrid and her mother were in the room with me, but I was unable to speak. I couldn't
tell them anything. They didn't know what to say to me, and I couldn't find any words
to say to them. I just kept thinking to myself,
I can't believe my baby is six weeks
old — Nate's baby — and I'm in the courthouse to defend him over sleeping with another
woman. I can't believe it.

Just as I predicted, Nate was not convicted.
We've been through so much in the last
six months
, I thought to myself.
Surely nothing else will happen
. Things were calm.
Nate kept his distance from me, I suppose with the idea that he'd give me time to
get over the fact that I had to testify on his behalf against his lover. I used the
calmness to approach Nate.

“I think it's best if we just go our separate ways,” I said. “I need to be free of
this marriage — it isn't really much of a marriage anyway. I'll take care of the
boys. If you'll just help me out with three months' rent, I'll be able to get a job
by then and won't need anything else from you. You owe me that much, Nate,” I said.

“Dot, just wait awhile. Just a little while. Can you just wait a little while? Everything
is going to be better,” he replied.

I let out a deep, heavy sigh. I knew he wasn't going to give me a divorce. I knew
he wasn't going to give me money for rent or child care.
How can I find a job and
move away from him without some help?
I thought. I felt totally trapped and completely
powerless to change my situation.

From that day on, I prayed more than ever before. I asked God to help me change things
in my life. I trusted no one. I had lived my entire life afraid. I had placed Nate's
needs, Nate's career, Nate's wants, ahead of everything else. Something inside of
me was so twisted and broken that I thought more about Nate than about my own safety.
I felt like I had done something to deserve the abuse — like I had to pay for my
past sins. I was too afraid to go to the police. I knew if I did, Nate would worm
his way out of any trouble, like he always did. The rules were different for him.
He was a celebrity. I thought about all the trouble he had caused and how he always
seemed to escape suffering any real consequences from his actions. Every time —
not guilty, not convicted. I felt like every effort on my part was completely futile.

I lived a lie, a double life. I played my role as a devoted, faithful wife so well
in public that no one ever suspected a thing. No one knew I was miserable, broken,
and bruised, crying out for deliverance and desperate to escape. Ingrid and T. Hayes
had some idea, but even what they knew was limited and filtered. To my friends and
the world around me, I lived a dream life. I was married to a celebrity, a professional
athlete. Nate was the life of the party, showering everyone with gifts, giving them
what they wanted, and treating them well. We had a nice home. We had nice cars. People
assumed I had a lot of money. I knew it wouldn't make sense to any of my friends
if I went to them to ask for financial help. I thought of going to Ingrid, and I
know she would gladly have helped, but how
could she give me money without telling
Monte what it was for? I didn't want him to know.
You're on your own
, I said to myself.
Just you and God.

Why didn't I tell my family? Surely if I had made my situation known, they would
have intervened. I was too frightened to take the chance. Nate had threatened to
kill me if I told anyone his business, and the image of him pointing that gun at
my head was as fresh in my memory as the day it happened.

Growing up, I promised myself I would never get in the same situation my mother was
in — unable to escape because she was financially dependent on my abusive stepfather.
Here I was, repeating history. I took the bad with the good and prayed for a way
out.

CHAPTER 23

My Shield

God is my defender. My God loves me, and he goes in front of me.

Psalm 59:9 – 10 NCV

I
lived my life going through the motions. The cycle of abuse (verbal, physical, sexual)
rotated
with
cycles of calm — Nate keeping his distance, Nate promising to change, Nate going
through some self-inflicted trauma. I found a way to separate myself into two people.
I was one way with Nate. Whatever he asked or demanded from me, I found some way
to comply. Sometimes I yelled back and said horrible things; sometimes I struggled
against him; and sometimes I just gave in like a wounded dog, but I did what I had
to do to survive.

The other me lived a totally different life. When I left the house, I tucked away
that abused, weary, broken Dorothy and put on the strong, tender, kindhearted Dorothy
who cared deeply about other people's pain and reached out in any way I could. When
I spent time with Ingrid, I was a different person. When I spent time with people,
I was a different person. When I spent time alone with God, he strengthened me and
filled me and taught me things about my own character and my own faults. He spoke
to me about my hatred and the bondage I was in.

“Lord,” I prayed, “please keep me safe from all danger and harm. Help me to have
a better attitude and plenty of gratitude. Clear my mind so I can truly hear from
you. Broaden my mind so I can accept what you are saying to me. Help me not to whine
about the things I have no control over. Renew my mind so I won't feel guilty about
all the bad choices I've made that led me here. I know that even when I cannot pray,
you listen
to my heart, so remove the hatred that is lurking there. Please cleanse
me from it.”

I kept praying. “My struggles, trials, and tribulations are beyond belief right now,
and only you really know what they are. God, help me through them so I can be a blessing
to others someday. Keep me strong so I will not give up, Lord. Keep me uplifted so
I may have words of encouragement for others, even during this time.”

And earnestly, passionately, I continued. “God, I feel like I'm lost right now. I'm
in the wilderness, and I haven't been able to find my way in a long, long time. I
need your guidance. I believe you can change people and you can change things. Bring
a change in my life — bring it quickly; please hasten. I am your child. I do not
have the strength to take any more, to carry this burden one moment longer. I need
you. I need you now.”

I repeated this prayer over and over, and it gave me peace. I meditated on the New
Testament story of Paul and Silas in prison, their backs badly beaten and their feet
shackled — and yet they sang praises to God and worshiped him, even in the middle
of their horrible, seemingly hopeless situation. They sang praises to God even when
they were powerless to set themselves free. This was me! I could sing praises to
God in the midst of my situation, and his peace came upon me and surpassed all my
understanding. Somehow I knew I would be okay.

I began to spend more time asking for forgiveness and less time pleading for mercy.
I started listening more and talking less. I learned how to be still. Tentatively,
I began trusting God. Ingrid and I continued studying the Bible together and also
attended Bible studies during the day while the kids were in school. This kept me
encouraged — it kept me alive.

God spoke to my heart. He had been speaking all along,
but I was finally still enough
to hear his voice. God's goodness penetrated my heart and my spirit, and change
took root inside of me. Nate's antics no longer had the same effect. It was like
I lived inside a bubble of God's peace. I filtered every word that came out of my
mouth and every move I made through God's Word.

When I thought about not being able to make it on my own while supporting two kids,
when I was filled with regret over giving up my career to support Nate, I quoted
this promise from Scripture: “My God shall supply all your need according to his
riches in glory by Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19).When I felt too weary to go on,
I relied on the words of Christ: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am
meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy,
and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28 – 30). I committed Scripture to memory, inscribing
it on the tablets of my heart. It was my weapon. It was my shield.

I prayed diligently for Tré. He was, for the most part, a happy-go-lucky child. He
was very smart and very protective of me and King. Still, there was too much heaviness
on a boy so young. He had seen too much. He had heard things no little boy should
ever have to hear, and I was worried about what kind of man he would grow up to be.
Would he solve his problems by lashing out in selfish anger? Was history doomed to
repeat itself?
I prayed it would not. I spoke words of life over him. I prayed over
him and declared good things over his future. I declared that he and King would grow
up to love God with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength and not repeat my mistakes,
not repeat Nate's mistakes. I loved these little boys with a fierce, protective love.
They filled my life with purpose and gave me a mission greater than mere survival.