Two days after being reunited with Wayne, I was scheduled to be in court with Aeron to continue fighting for a restraining order against him. This was our fourth or fifth appearance in court and every time we went, he would show up with his attorney, his mother, other family members and friends, or even his mother’s next-door neighbor, for Christ’s sake. As for me, over the past months, I’d just show up all alone, gaunt and feeble, clutching my papers, sitting in a corner by myself, looking at the floor, and waiting to be called. They had been like a pack of wolves and I was alone with no support, just trying to get this man out of my life for good.
After being with Wayne, however, I no longer felt alone or outnumbered. I was empowered by him and infected with his swagger. Before, I’d vomit every morning before going to court, my stomach nervous and unsettled. But, on this morning, I awoke and felt nothing. I couldn’t have given less of a shit about Aeron or his band of intimidators. They were all a bunch of nobodies and has-beens and Wayne had reminded me that I was a star, a light, and I deserved to shine again. I was ready to take back what my relationship with Aeron had taken from me. I was back with Wayne and divorced from Aeron; I was in the perfect position to start over, and going back and forth to court, holding on and contributing to the negative energy that had held me captive for so long was only doing me a disservice. I could see that, now. So, I walked into the courthouse that morning with just one agenda—dropping my case.
For the first time in years, I could eat again. After being with Wayne, I was suddenly hungry. I was happy. Beaming. I had confidence again and I now knew who I was and what I was worth. I dropped my request for the restraining order and Aeron dropped his request to renew the original restraining order he imposed before we were married. I walked out of that courtroom, head held high, with a big, bright smile on my face, my ex-husband trailing behind.
“Maybe we can go to a movie or something this weekend,” he suggested.
“Sure!” I replied. I kissed and hugged his mother and everyone else he had with him that day.
“I love you, Karrine,” Mona insisted. “I wish you guys didn’t have to put each other through all this. You should bring Naiim by the house to play with the other grandkids sometime next week!”
“Sure!” I replied, before waving good-bye to my past, taking the long walk back to my car, and driving into my future. I was smiling so hard, my face hurt. I was just so happy. I drove away from that courthouse, determined to never see it again. And I didn’t call Aeron, or visit my ex-mother-in-law.
I just fucking left.
I never told Wayne what he did for me or about my battles with my ex-husband. He never knew about my inability to eat or the physical changes I’d gone through from the stress and pressure of being in such a tormenting relationship. The vomiting, the nerves, my thinning hair and yellowing nails, the weight loss, the loss of all my confidence and self-worth—he never knew about it. He never heard about the beatings, the choking—not since he hung up on me the night of my birthday when I tried to confide in him about the first time Aeron abused me. His pride would never have allowed him to allow me to tell him about any other man in my life. I learned on that night, back in 2007, that Wayne didn’t want to know everything—or anything at all, except that I loved him. But I often wanted to tell him how his power empowered me and gave me everything I needed to leave the worst relationship of my life, how by just being in my life again, he’d given me something no one else could. I’d left a piece of myself with him on that bus back in 2008 and, unbeknownst to him, he’d carried it with him during our years apart. Now, I had it back. He’d given me back a piece of myself and completed me.
Still, after all of that, after finally getting back to the place I belonged and to the man I loved, and after making my escape from a horrific life with Aeron, Aeron and I were not over. With no restraining orders with which to contend, Aeron began coming back around and courting me. He’d oftentimes show up with a bouquet of my favorite flowers, red roses and star lilies, and a box of chocolates or something else delectably sweet. He was pouring it on thick and talking about getting back together, remarried even, but I wasn’t interested—not in a romantic relationship with him and certainly not in remarrying him.
I was invigorated, falling back into the skin of the person I used to be. I was stronger and more resilient. I was beautiful again and feeling better than I had since I left Wayne that day on the tour bus. I had pep in my step, a sway in my hair, and a gleam of light in my eye. I was coming alive again, and even though there was nothing to stop Aeron from popping up at my doorstep, there was a wall keeping him from lunging back into my heart and mind. I was back with Wayne and nothing and no one could bring me down. Long gone was the sorry sap looking for normalcy or to be secured by a man, family, and the look of perfection.
For the first time in four years, I wouldn’t be going back to Aeron.
However, I felt bad for our children, these two innocent boys, brothers, who were being torn apart by abuse and divorce. Mostly, I felt sorry for Jonah. I felt bad that he didn’t have sameness and a place to call home. There was very little stability in his life and he never knew where he would be from one day to the next or who would be picking him up from school. Even though everyone surrounding him were family and friends, children thrive on stability and repetition, and it seemed extremely rare for him to ever have the same day twice.
As it happened, my new apartment was just one block away from CBS studios, where Aeron filmed the soap opera, and about eight minutes from the school Jonah attended. So, with Aeron not having a stable home, it was convenient for him to come by my place with Jonah during the week. His alternative was to drive out to his mother’s house, over an hour away—two hours in traffic. As always, I was convenient for Aeron, but between my guilt about the children and Aeron’s rambling ways, I didn’t mind allowing him and Jonah to spend time or sleep at my place. It was nice to have the kids back together, again. I enjoyed being able to get Jonah ready for school, ironing his uniform and preparing his lunches. It felt good to be a mom to him again. Naiim, however, seemed to be annoyed with the whole situation. He hadn’t fallen into the old routines he once had with Jonah. He was a bit older and a lot wiser and still harbored hurt over the pain Aeron caused him and me over the years.
And I couldn’t blame him.
Though Naiim was cordial, he was never really into it and was simply tolerating having Aeron and Jonah back in our lives. As for me, I felt safe. Aeron was no longer a threat to me. Having Wayne back in my life was a serious boost and I was dating other people, as well. I was going out again, accepting invitations to parties, and taking trips with friends.
Then, I remarried.
In August 2011, I met a man who lived in my apartment complex. I’d seen him around often. He was an ugly man, dark-skinned and very short. His hair was dreadlocked and his island accent was very heavy. I could tell he was Jamaican and figured he was somehow related to Rohan Marley, son of Bob Marley. Rohan lived upstairs and he and I had a brief series of intimate encounters soon after I moved into the building eight months prior. Nothing more ever came of it, but Rohan and I remained cordial neighbors. After seeing him numerous times around the property and in the parking garage, often driving Rohan’s cars, the mysterious Jamaican finally spoke and we were introduced. His name was Nigel and he was Rohan’s cousin, temporarily in the United States on a work visa.
There was something endearing and indigenous about Nigel. He reminded me of home. Born and raised in the Virgin Islands, I was very accustomed to his way of speech and his way of life, his cooking, and I related to the memories he had of growing up in Jamaica. We connected on these points and I thought he was exactly what I needed in my life, at the time. I needed someone to keep Aeron away, first and foremost. He was a watchdog of sorts. Plus, Nigel would provide balance. I could have late studio nights and days of intimate private time with Wayne and then this regular island life at home when I wasn’t with the love of my life. Essentially, I created a scenario in my head, the perfect arrangement and its benefits to me. Nigel would be my houseboy—the kind of man I thought Aeron was when he and I first started dating back in 2007. I could have Nigel at the apartment to keep the home fires burning while I ran around town living my life, regaining my independence, confidence, and the inspiration to get back to work.
While I am obviously a woman and possess many traditional feminine qualities, much of my personality and many of my traits can be described as traditionally masculine. There were times during my relationship and marriage to Aeron when I was content to be the housewife, cooking and cleaning for my family. But, unlike most housewives, I was doing all of that and making all the money and paying all the bills. Initially, with Aeron, what I wanted and thought I was getting was a man who would support my endeavors at home while I strengthened my career and built my fortune. I didn’t mind paying all the bills, as long as my ability to work and live the life I wanted was not obstructed. I didn’t want a rival and I certainly didn’t want an oppressor.
Well, that plan blew up in my face.
This time, I would choose a man who had nothing to lose and everything to gain by supporting me. I imagined he’d cook and clean and make sure the car got washed. He would take care of the tedious responsibilities of home life while I worked on my appearance, my social life, and regaining my footing in publishing. It had been two years since my publisher dropped me, and I desperately needed a way back into the industry. In return for all his hard work and dedication to my success, he’d be well taken care of and married to me and eventually, if all went well, he could get his American citizenship. Plus, he would help me project a picture of normalcy to the public while I ran around being as un-normal as fucking possible. Though I no longer wanted the same things I sought in past relationships, I knew the public needed to see me being more like them, if only for a moment. Nigel would provide the perfect public smoke screen while I focused on my relationship with Wayne, privately.
I told Nigel the whole thing wouldn’t last more than two years, though he always laughed when I said it. I told him I had a plan but didn’t divulge its details. Nigel had no idea what he was getting himself into, but he was in a desperate situation. Rohan made it possible for him to obtain the work visa by claiming to hire Nigel, and though Nigel did work for him as a gofer, he wasn’t paid well. I was offering Nigel everything he needed as long as he gave me everything I needed. The plan was perfect and he went along with it, easily, not knowing all the details.
Five weeks after meeting Nigel, in September 2011, he and I were married. The ceremony was held in the same chapel where Aeron and I were wed, and the managers of the establishment gave me a 10 percent discount for being a repeat customer. Seriously. This time, I bought a dress—a cocktail-length lace number by Betsey Johnson. I also bought outfits for Nigel and Naiim and enlisted one bridesmaid, who bought me the perfect bouquet of roses and star lilies. I knew this was more of a business agreement than it was a marriage, but I wanted to have a little fun with the wedding and make it somewhat different from the one I had with Aeron. One thing was for sure, I wouldn’t be getting choked and spit upon once I got home.
During the ceremony, when the officiant read the section of vows that spoke of faithfulness, I stalled while repeating them. I smirked. I wanted to bust out in a fit of laughter because Nigel and I both knew this marriage was never going to be about faithfulness. Nigel lowered his chin, staring up at me as I sputtered the words, “I promise to be faithful.” The truth was, even if I was in love with this man and had every intention of having a traditional, monogamous marriage with him, there was no way I would have been able to. In addition to his physical unattractiveness, Nigel was not a very smart man. Though he had more than his share of vocational knowledge, he lacked book smarts and I found myself having to correct him often as he used words that simply did not exist. All in all, Nigel was not a catch and was certainly no one to whom I’d consider being faithful! So, I repeated the faithfulness vow and all the other erroneous vows with a roll of my eyes and a smirk on my face.
It was all so ridiculous.
After the ceremony, I skipped out of the chapel, bouquet in hand, happy to have completed the first steps of my plan to regain my life. I was married to a man I didn’t love but who wouldn’t beat me. All he had to do was take care of me and in a couple years, he could have his citizenship. We passed by a barbershop just two doors down from the chapel, Nigel trailing behind me, followed by Naiim and my lone bridesmaid. Outside the shop there were three barbers sitting there, on a break. One of the barbers wore long, neat dreadlocks and seemed to be of island descent.
He extended his hand to Nigel. “You guys just got married?” the stranger asked.
“Yeah, man!” Nigel replied, happily.
“Congratulations!”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
The two men shared a congratulatory fist bump.
It was all so ridiculous.
Nigel came into the arrangement knowing I had a plan and knowing all about my relationship with Wayne. During those first five weeks before we were wed, I saw Wayne quite often and never felt the need to hide the relationship from Nigel or anyone else. I was back where I belonged and anyone wanting to be in my life would either have to accept my relationship with Wayne or be shown the door.
I was never going to leave him again.
Days later, I received a phone call from Aeron. “I heard you got married,” he said in his deep, growling voice.
I was stunned. “How’d you hear that? I haven’t told anyone.”
“I got a call from my barber.”
“Oh.”