“Mattie Madison?” a voice summoned. Mattie had been waiting in the government building for at least three hours, and she was pleased to hear her name called. More than a year before Lydia turned up, she had put in an application with the Department of Housing and Urban Development for low-income families. The beatings from Roy had not stopped, and she was desperately seeking a way out.
A young man escorted her to a small office, where she was given additional forms to complete and barely any instructions on how to fill them out. He said only that someone would be in to discuss her application with her. She sat there in silence, hoping for the news she had so often prayed for. A short while later, the door opened and a middle-aged white woman walked in. Looking over the paperwork for a long while, she hardly acknowledged Mattie. Then she said, “I’m Mrs. York, and I’m going to help you get acquainted with the guidelines of the Fairview Park housing project. You’ve been approved for a three-bedroom apartment, and you can move in within thirty days.”
Mattie’s eyes got wide. “I’ve been approved?” she asked, stunned.
“Yes. We have just a few more items to review before we finalize your application.”
Mattie felt her heart beating so wildly inside her chest she thought it would explode. She had figured they were going to have her fill out more unnecessary paperwork and tell her the same “We’ll keep your application on file” story. But to her surprise, she’d been approved for a three-bedroom apartment, where the rent would be a fraction of what they were paying now.
Mattie was so excited about the news that she forgot about the bruises Roy had given her that day; she forgot about the purple circle that shadowed her left eye and the split on her bottom lip. She was startled when Mrs. York asked, “Mrs. Madison, is everything all right at home?”
Mattie looked away and said nothing.
“Do you need to talk to somebody? Are you in any trouble?”
“No, everything’s fine. It was all a misunderstanding. I’m fine now.” Mattie seemed fragile and innocent as she spoke. She really wanted to talk to someone but was too afraid, and Mrs. York sensed it.
“Well, if you ever need to talk to someone, I would be happy to refer you to Social Services.”
Mattie nodded and smiled briefly. She looked sad and tired, certainly much older than her twenty-two years. Maybe she should have taken the woman up on her offer to help, but that would only bring more grief and pain. In her own sad way, she loved her husband. He was the father of their four children, and at times, he made her feel special. Strangely enough, she understood his plight, even if it was at the risk of her suffering. But she could no longer take his beatings. She despised him for making her feel like she was to blame for his shortcomings and failures. She had made up her mind a year ago to leave him if she could only get approved for the low-income government housing. And her prayers had been answered. But now with a new home, maybe a new start was just what she and Roy needed to mend their differences, she thought. And now she was looking forward to her, Roy, and the children moving into their new home.
They moved into the Fairview Park housing project just before Christmas. It was one of the most memorable Christmases that Mattie and Roy ever shared. With subsidized housing, they could afford the rent and food. They had enough money to buy the children toys and clothes, and Mattie decorated the apartment and a small tree. She made cakes, pies, and a turkey with all the fixings and invited their families over for Christmas dinner. It was the first time they’d ever had Christmas in their home.
From that day on, things changed. Roy worked and cared for his family, while Mattie took care of the children. The beatings stopped, and Mattie began to piece their marriage back together yet another time. She loved living in Fairview Park. The community was peaceful and clean. The superintendent came around occasionally to inspect the inside of the apartments to ensure they were well kept by the tenants.
Roy and Mattie joined a church, and when Easter came, they bought outfits for the children. The boys got dressed in suits, ties, and little brimmed hats, and the girls wore white dresses and tights with fancy white hats on their heads. Mattie borrowed a camera from one of the neighbors and took pictures. It was hard to believe this was the same family.
Mattie’s children on Easter
They had been living in Fairview for close to a year when Roy convinced Mattie to let him throw a birthday party. It was his twenty-fifth birthday, and he wanted to celebrate it in a big way. “All right,” Mattie said reluctantly. She didn’t think it was a good idea now that they were finally getting back on the right track, but she didn’t want to disappoint him. Besides, he had been on good behavior for almost a year.
Mattie helped Roy plan the party and even cooked for the occasion. All of Roy’s friends and family attended, as well as Alifa, the only friend Mattie had. They danced to the tunes of Smokey Robinson, the Temptations, Gladys Knight & the Pips, the Isley Brothers, and the O’Jays. Everyone was having a good time until a fight broke out. One of the neighbors called the police, and they were forced to shut down the party.
On Monday morning, the superintendent showed up at their apartment and posted a notice on the door. EVICTION NOTICE FOR MISCONDUCT AND DISTURBING THE COMMUNITY, it read. They had fourteen days to vacate.
Mattie blamed Roy for losing the only real home she and her children had ever known.
“We’re gonna have to move back in with my parents until we can find somethin’ else,” Roy told her.
“I’m not movin’ back in with your parents. I’m takin’ the children, and we’re gonna go stay with my mother. I’m tired of runnin’ back to your parents every time you mess up.”
They packed their belongings, and Mattie went to stay with her mother, while Roy moved back in with Miss Esther and Mr. Marshall. Mattie was so angry with Roy that whenever he came to visit, she barely spoke to him.
“I’m gonna fix it,” Roy said every time he came to visit. But Mattie let his promises go. She didn’t have a morsel of faith left in him.
After Mattie spent three months living with her mother, Roy showed up one evening and handed her the keys to an apartment he’d rented on 17th and Francis. It was a three-room apartment with barely enough space for two people, let alone six, but she would have to make do like she’d become accustomed to doing. It was no Fairview, but it would have to be home.
On a cool early-April evening, the thick smell of gin hung in the air. Roy’s breath was heavy as he stumbled around in the dark living room. The alcohol had soaked up all reason, making him almost forget where he was, where he belonged. He had been out since noon the previous day, drinking as much as his body could hold, and had returned home eighteen hours later. A small voice, the one that often played tricks on his mind, told him that his wife was seeing another man.
Mattie lay in bed motionless. She could tell by the clumsiness of Roy’s footsteps that he was drunk again. Fear swallowed her as she braced herself for what might come.
“I know wha’ you been doin’ behind my back,” Roy slurred. His silhouette was framed in the bedroom doorway. He shuffled toward her, his feet dragging. He stopped and stood over her. Mattie lay motionless, her eyes shut tight, a silent prayer parting her lips.
“You bitch, I know wha’ you been doin’.”
Mattie felt his cold hands gripping her nightdress. He dragged her out of the bed and onto the floor.
“Please, Roy. Don’t do this. Please …” He ignored her pleas and cries. He stood atop her, hammering at her again and again with his fist and foot, until she seemed to drift into an unconscious state, wishing that finally, mercifully, he would kill her. “You ain’t never gonna cheat on me again,” he said, then stumbled into the living room and passed out on the sofa.
Mattie pulled herself up from the floor and lay down on the bed. She heard voices coming from the small television, and she could hear Roy snoring over it. As she felt the swelling on her body, she buried her tears into the pillow and sobbed herself into a fitful sleep.
A few hours later, the blaring voices coming from the television awakened her. Mattie tried to force her eyes open, but the bruises had already set in, shutting one eye. She tried to move her body gently, but a fierce pain shot through her legs and up to her chest. She struggled to sit up. She wanted to check on the children.
She went into the children’s room, and they were sleeping, all four of them. She walked over to the bed and pulled the blanket over the children, whose limbs lay sprawled across each other. She bent slowly and kissed each child before she turned the lights out and left.
She quietly moved past the sofa, where Roy still lay snoring, one leg on the sofa, the other stretched across to the floor. She concealed a painful sigh as she hobbled by him. Just as she was about to turn into her bedroom, an urgent voice caught her attention.
“We are saddened to bring you the message,” the news anchor said, “that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. died this evening from a single gunshot wound to the neck.”
The news shattered Mattie’s heart.
She returned to her bedroom and gently lay down. She made herself still as she cried for herself, as she cried for Dr. King.