CHAPTER 8

 

Five years had passed since Clarye’s divorce from Shawn. She and her sons had adjusted quite well to living a rather quiet and uneventful life. Since the divorce she tried to date every now and then, but the guy basically turned out to be a bum, a loser, and as always going nowhere. She could not understand why she always attracted the same kind of man. She couldn’t understand what was so wrong with her that no one decent dare look her way. She involved herself in her work and in the life of her sons, determined that she would not continue down the awful, disgusting path her life was leading her on.

Without any obvious pre-warning signs, Clarye’s health began to take a devastating change for the worse. She could not pin point the onset of this change. She only knew she felt weakness and exhaustion such as she had never experienced before. Her back ached something terrible and her legs were becoming numb with each step she made. She had been diagnosed with scoliosis when she was a small child. It often was found in those who had contracted polio. Clarye thought that was the reason her back had been bothering her so much lately. She also fell into a serious, deep, dark depression. She had always been prone to bouts of depression. Pessimistic thoughts would often invade her mind at a moment’s notice.

When she didn’t seem to be getting any better, she decided to make an appointment to visit her orthopedic doctor. She had to get to the bottom of this pain thing. She had two sons to raise and she had to work in order to provide an adequate home for them. Clarye could not see anyway that she could face life being dependent on someone or something else for their livelihood. She was not going to let polio get the best of her. Maybe relationships had a winning hand, playing their cruel jokes on her throughout her life, but polio, never.

She called Dr. William Boaz’ office. When she entered into his clean, nicely decorated office; she was at an all time low. Her body was bent over from the severe pain shooting through it. Dr. Boaz x rayed her. He moved her weakening legs around in different positions and gave her a thorough examination.

At the end of his exam, he told Clarye rather nonchalantly, “You might as well face it. Your health is going downhill fast, Clarye. The Polio is beginning to take its toll on you. You’re going to have to quit working immediately, and it’s more than likely that you’ll never be able to hold a job again, young lady. I’ll fill out the necessary paperwork for you to begin receiving disability benefits,” he said, not looking at her once during his entire conversation.

“Clarye, you might as well face it, within two years, you’ll be confined to a wheelchair.” Clarye couldn’t remember when her mind took on another dimension. She vaguely remembered the prescriptions Dr. Boaz gave her for pain and for her depression. She recalled going out of the doctor’s office and heading straight to the pharmacy. She could hear his words over and over, ringing throughout her already cloudy, depressed mind. ‘You might as well accept it, Clarye. You’re going to be an invalid and you’re going to be one very soon.’

How was she going to provide for her sons? How was she going to remain out on her own, showing this prejudiced world that she could make it in spite of her disability? Clarye sunk deeper and deeper, faster and faster. She didn’t recall what happened to her over the next few months. She didn’t know if the weather was hot or cold, or if it was winter or spring. She didn’t remember her Aunt Laura coming over day after day placing her in warm tubs of water, or the visits from church members and family. All she could do was take her pain medicine and antidepressant medication. She lost count of how many pills she was taking. She lost count of the days going by swiftly like a speeding locomotive. She could only hear Dr. Boaz’ words. Words that meant defeat and failure. Words that meant devastation and destruction to her already dangerously low self esteem. Words that shot through her like a bullet piercing its victim’s heart. She began to turn away from friends and family, choosing instead to withdraw deep within herself, within her private shield of safety, her shell of escape.

She had known Gary since he was a boy of thirteen or fourteen years of age. As a matter of fact, she had dated his alcoholic and abusive uncle, Tony, for about a year before she even knew about Gary. That was another dead end, senseless relationship that headed swiftly down the road of nowhere.

Gary was about five feet eleven inches, of slender build, maybe about 160 or 165 pounds and handsome in his own way. He wore a flashing, gold toothed smile and walked with a sort of macho gait. Clarye remembered him coming by to see her one evening, or was it one night? Her days were still tangled up in her mind. He had recently gotten out of prison for aggravated assault. Gary was also twelve years her junior.

When she saw him, she told herself, “He’s a man now and a rather handsome man at that.” Age was nowhere in her thoughts as Gary told her how he often thought of her while he was locked up. He had spent most of his teenage life in and out of juvenile detention centers. Now in his adult years he was following the same pattern. Again, Clarye did not dwell on Gary’s past at all. She only knew his smile made her smile after being lost in her world of depression and anger. Gary began to come over each and everyday. He would gently lift her to place her in the car so her father could take her to her doctor’s appointments. By now, Clarye was weak, barely able to walk.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Clarye continued to get refill after refill on her medication to which now she had become addicted. So it wasn’t so much that the polio had gotten worse like Dr. Boaz had predicted, it was the drugs that were robbing her of her strength, her energy, and her mind.

But old faithful, Gary, would always be right there waiting on Clarye hand and foot. He fed her, talked to her, and showed her something she had not seen in a long time; attention and love, something she had craved most of her life. She began to slowly come out of her closed in shell of escape. She looked forward to Gary’s visits. The weeks went by and Gary started to stay at her house later and later. Finally, Gary was not leaving at all.

Clarye could hear her mother’s voice clearly. “Clarye, Gary is a young boy. He needs to be at home with his family and people his own age. He’s practically the same age as Eric and Jeremy, Clarye. I‘m telling you, girl, this boy needs to go. Do you realize that he has been staying over every day?”

This time Clarye let her mother’s words go in one ear and out the other. How dare her mother try to take away the prince charming that God had sent her way. Clarye’s mind told her that Gary was “the one.” She began to believe that God was being merciful by sending her a young man who would be able to take care of her, since soon she would not be able to do so herself. After all, Eric and Jeremy wouldn’t be around much longer. They would be graduating from high school soon, probably going off to college or the military. They had their own lives to lead. They couldn’t concentrate on a future of taking care of an invalid mother and she definitely would never allow them to do that anyway. Clarye continued to feed her mind with these thoughts while the relationship with Gary escalated.

She remembered their first kiss, when his young, tender, boy lips enveloped hers. The boys were gone to shoot basketball with some friends. Gary and Clarye were lying back on her queen size bed, watching one of those horror flicks she liked. Clarye didn’t protest when Gary pulled her into his arms. She was feeling good. The antidepressants, mixed with the pain medication, had her totally relaxed. Gary had a strong, firm, touch that assured her of his manhood. In her drugged and confused state of mind, Clarye actually felt an unnatural passion and desire for this young man.

When Gary pampered her and showered her with schoolboy poems and childlike tokens of his love, she could see nothing but a blessing from God. Within five months, Clarye was standing before a judge at the local courthouse saying the words, “I do” for a third time.

Her family was dead set against their marriage, against everything Gary stood for. Even Ada tried unsuccessfully time and time again to make her best friend see what a huge mistake she had made. But they would never understand what Clarye was feeling. They would never understand the emptiness, the loneliness, the hurt, the anguish, and most of all the Pain and Fear that lived inside her. They would never understand her need for love, a love sent from God. Why couldn’t they see that God was on her side this time? Why couldn’t they see that this was not of her doing? God had brought Gary, this young man, into her life, across her path, in the nick of time; just at the moment Clarye had felt like dying.

Gary found a job driving a delivery truck for one of the local rent to own establishments. He and the boys got along fairly well. Well, that’s not exactly true. He and Eric got along fairly well.

Jeremy detested Gary. He had even told Clarye, “Momma, don’t you see? Gary is not the man for you. He’s just a young boy. He’s a gangsta and a troublemaker. Momma, please listen to what I’m saying,” Jeremy pleaded. But Clarye shrugged the words of her son out of her mind. What did he know? How could he ever come to understand all the hurt she had suffered throughout her life? How would he ever know that Pain had been her one true and only camaraderie? How dare Jeremy tell her who was good for her and who was not? He had his life to live and Clarye had hers.

Eric, on the other hand, only wanted his mother to be happy. So whatever was okay with her, was okay with him. He was not the outspoken type like his brother. Instead, he kept his emotions bottled up inside so that it was hard, almost impossible, to understand what was actually going on inside his head. By this time, he was quite involved with Gary’s sister, Sandy.

Even though Clarye didn’t like the fact that her son was dating her sister-in-law, it was really nothing that she could do about it. Eric had fallen madly in love with Sandy and against Clarye’s wishes, he started spending a lot of time at Gary’s parents’ house with Sandy.

One week into their marriage, Clarye and Gary had their first argument. Even now, Clarye can’t remember how it started or even what it was all about. She only remembered calling Gary, a young punk. Before she could complete her attack on his manhood, the piercing sting of his fist landed hard across the soft, brown skin of her face. Blood started pouring out all over her black, “Be a Real Woman T-shirt.” She tasted its saltiness as it poured into the open cavern of her mouth. Clarye was standing, facing the mirror in their bedroom. When she saw the blood pouring down her cheek, she became hysterical.

Gary grabbed her instantly, pleading her forgiveness. He had reacted out of anger when he heard her degrading words, he told her. She had provoked him into hurting her this way.

”Clarye, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he pleaded with her. Come on; let me take you to the doctor. Come on, Clarye. Baby, it will never happen again. I don’t know what came over me. Please, baby, please forgive me. I love you so much. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Clarye looked at his young, hurt face. She saw the tears as they flowed from his dark brown eyes and a wave of pity rushed over her. After all, she had been the one to attack his manhood. She should have known better. How could she call him a young punk and not expect him to retaliate in such a manner? After all, he was probably already feeling rather insecure since he was so much younger than she was.

“Yes,” she told herself. She definitely pushed Gary to do this to her. She told him, “No, sweetheart, there’s no need for me to go to the doctor. Just get me some cold towels to stop the bleeding. I need to clean this mess up before the boys come in here. Hurry, Gary.”

They both moved quickly, cleaning up the blood. He put ice packs on Clarye’s face to stop the bleeding and reduce the swelling. Once they stopped the bleeding, Clarye had Gary to go and tell the boys they were going to spend some time alone. They locked their bedroom door and did not come out until the next morning, after Eric and Jeremy were gone to school. Once morning came, Clarye said as she looked in the mirror, “The gash doesn’t look so bad. He didn’t mean it. He was just angry and hurt,” she convinced herself. “It’ll never happen again.”

Gary tenderly cleaned the gash once again when they woke up, being careful to treat Clarye with extra tenderness while he continued to plead, “Honey, I’m so sorry. How could I do this to the one person I love more than anything in the world?” He brought her close to him, while lifting her black, cotton, sleep shirt gently over her head. He planted light kisses all over her face while his hands touched her in just the right places at just the right time. Clarye was oblivious to the pain she had accepted from his fist the night before. She was taken away by his sincerity and most of all by his manhood as he drove her to satisfying heights of pleasure with his lovemaking. But this was only the beginning of the most violent relationship Clarye had ever been involved in.

Gary’s physical and verbal abuse began to escalate as their marriage continued. Several months into their marriage, Clarye knew that she had indeed once again made a tragic mistake. Why couldn’t she depend on God in this area in her life? She could call on Him for everything else. She had gone before God, unfailingly, throughout her life, time and time again, except when it came to relationships. Why was she so blind to God’s guidance and direction in this area?

In spite of the fact that she knew she had once again failed, she stayed in the marriage allowing herself to be subjected to the heavy blows that Gary laid on her. Gary was rather conniving, shrewd and calculating in his abuse. He would wait patiently until Eric and Jeremy were off to school, or gone to visit friends, before he began his physical and verbal attacks on Clarye.

Gary, just like the other ones, did not maintain his job for any real length of time at the rental company. He was too consumed with rage and anger toward Clarye. Once again, Clarye fell into a deep depression, unable to continue to accept the fists that landed across her body over and over again, she blocked them out each time.

Gary began to have women call him at all times of the day or night. He would stay away from home two or three nights a week. It really didn’t matter to Gary. Yet, Clarye continued to stay in the marriage. A year passed. Clarye’s body was breaking down, her mind was falling apart as the abuse began to take a heavy, devastating toll on her physically and mentally.

The phone call came one day while Gary was away on one of his “mini excursions.” The woman on the other end was polite, when she asked for Clarye by name. Clarye began to escape into her shell when she heard the woman tell her that Gary had gotten her fourteen year old daughter pregnant. Clarye could not believe what her ears were hearing. fourteen years old. A mere child. She knew Gary was a lowlife, a scumbag, but even she had no idea he would stoop to such a low level as this. She was afraid to tell anyone about the conversation with this child’s mother. She retreated into a shell that allowed her to feel nothingness. Pain could not even visit her. She would not acknowledge its entrance into her life.

When Gary returned home after being gone for two days, she confronted him about the accusations of the girl’s mother. Gary immediately flew into a wild fit of rage. All Clarye could see was the long, steel crutch she used for support, coming down hard across her back. The steel was cold to her as he pounded her body over and over again. With each blow, he was mouthing obscenities. Soon Clarye could not feel the heavy weight of the crutch as it bruised and marked up her brown, copper skin. She could only feel hate and disgust for this man. She envisioned him dead. She longed for him to disappear. With each blow of the crutch, her heart, her emotions became colder and colder until she felt she was beyond breaking.

After all, this was her fault. Everything was her fault. She deserved this abuse. She deserved this unhappiness. Had she not been warned about Gary before marrying him? Her family had tried to tell her. Ada had tried to talk her out of making such a tragic mistake. So believed that she deserved every horrible thing she had allowed to come into her life.

Clarye could not cry out in pain for there was no pain. She could not hear the obscenities any longer. All she could hear were the words of a minister she had spoken to several weeks before about Gary and his abuse towards her.

“Clarye,” the minister said to her in a stern rock hard and unsympathetic voice, “God hates divorce. You made a tragic mistake when you married a man who was unsaved. The two of you are unequally yoked. You know enough about the Bible, young lady. Does it not say that we, as children of God, should not be yoked with unbelievers? But you disobeyed God, my child. Now you have to suffer the consequences of your sins, Clarye. You’re in this marriage until death do you part, for better or for worse. Be careful, Clarye for your sins will find you out. Only I think it’s too late for you. Your sins have already found you.”

Clarye recalled the minister’s words and believed even stronger that all of this mess was of her own making and her own doing. She indeed had made this bed, now she was the one who had to sleep in it. It would take something even more despicable before Clarye would come to realize that what the minister told her was not exactly true.

“There’s no need for me to call on God now,” Clarye told herself. “I didn’t call on him when I got into this mess. I know what His Word says and I have been disobedient. All I can ask now, Lord, is that you give me the strength to hold out, to make it through this marriage. I must believe that Gary will change one day, Lord. Won’t he?” So Clarye remained in the marriage to Gary.

The courts demanded a blood test for the baby that was born to the young girl. It showed that the chance of Gary being the baby’s father was 99.9%. Even after this, Clarye stayed in the marriage, believing she had to lie in the bed she had made. The girl’s mother decided not to press statutory rape charges against Gary. She demanded he pay child support instead. But that was nothing for Gary. He refused to keep a steady job. They lived off Clarye’s meager disability check and the money she made babysitting other people’s children from time to time. Clarye made excuse after excuse to her family and the few friends she still had about the black and blue marks that showed up on her body and face from time to time. Her excuse would be that she had fallen, or tripped on something or that one of the babies she kept had playfully hit her with one of their toys.

She continued her masquerade and Gary continued his. He still wore that gold toothed smile that had drawn Clarye to him in the first place. He wore it well for the outside world. He appeared affectionate and loving when they were around family or out in public.

The final straw began one spring day when the boys were away at school. Clarye was babysitting that day and was in a rather good mood. Gary came in from who knows where and Clarye made the tragic mistake of asking him to help her get some clothes off the line. Her back had been giving her problems more and more and her legs were in constant pain. She refused to accept the fact that it was because of Gary’s beatings.

“Gary, will you get those clothes off the line for me? I’m really tired and my back and legs are bothering me a little. I guess it’s because I’ve been up and down with these babies today. The basket is in the kitchen by the door,” she said.

Gary angrily raced into the den where Clarye and the babies were sitting down watching Sesame Street. He began to mouth his obscenities at her.

“What are you talking about. You don’t tell me to get some damn clothes off the line, you little no good, lazy, tramp. You’re nothing but a slut and a whore,” he yelled and screamed. “You sit here on your ugly butt all day and then think that I’m supposed to go out and get some clothes off the line. You’re crazy. Get your crippled butt up and do it yourself.”

Clarye held back her tears. How could someone be so cruel toward another human being?

Gary stormed out the front door. Clarye tried to soothe the cries of the frightened babies. She hoped that Gary would just leave and not come back, ever. Suddenly she heard the front door being yanked open. She saw the long, wooden branch in Gary’s hand. She remembered that it had fallen off the huge oak tree in the front yard a few nights ago, during a thunderstorm. What was Gary doing with it in the house? Before she could completely get up to see what was going on, she saw the branch come down across her face. It struck her hard. The blows came down across her back, across her legs, again and again, over and over. Clarye crouched to the floor, but she never screamed. She didn’t want the babies to become anymore frightened than they already were. She fought hard to pull herself up, barely able to drag herself out of sight of the babies.

Gary continued screaming, yelling at her, and telling her how much he hated her. He grabbed her by her thick, long hair and pulled her into their bedroom. She saw him when he reached inside his pocket and pulled out something long and white. She could see that it was a piece of rope. He twisted her arms hard behind her back and yanked her already weak, scrawny legs behind her as well. He tied her hands and feet together, bending them back to meet each other until she thought he would break every part of her body. He pulled out what appeared to be some type of sewing needle from his pants pocket along with some ink and thread.

“What was he going to do?” Clarye was frightened. She was worried about the babies. She could hear them in the other room crying. Gary bolted out as if reading her mind and yelled at the babies to shut up. He returned to their bedroom, slamming the door shut, leaving the babies in the den alone and crying.

Clarye was in the floor struggling with all of her might to break free from the ropes. But she could not. Gary knew what he was doing. He began to stick her with the needle all over her arm. Tiny pricks of pain pierced her arms. She could see trickles of blood coming down. Each time she tried to let out a scream, Gary’s backhand would cross her lips as he commanded her to shut up. The pricks of the needle came harder and harder. After what seemed like hours, Gary finally stopped, surveying his damage with a weird smile of joy and happiness. He dragged Clarye into the tiny bedroom closet. Clarye was still bound and her legs and arms were numb from the ropes.

When he got her into the closet, he asked her with a wicked voice, “Don’t you want to be like Michael Jackson, Clarye? You do like old pretty boy Michael don’t you, Clarye? Why, he’s a superstar. Let’s see if you can be like Mike.”

Clarye was terrified. “Don’t you want to be like Michael, just a little?” he asked her again laughing wickedly, as he pulled a disposable green cigarette lighter out of his pocket. He began to turn it on and off, on and off as he brought it closer and closer to her face. He pulled at her hair, allowing the flickering flame to barely miss the thick locks that hung across her shoulders.

Clarye barely mouthed a word during all this time. One thing she had learned was that during Gary’s fits of rage, if she would only be quiet, and say as little as possible, that it would soon be over. There was a time she used to scream and yell back at him, fight him back even. But that only added fire to an already out of control inferno. She saw the flickering flames of the cigarette lighter as it danced across the ends of her hair. She smelled the scorched locks of her hair as they fought against the heat of the flame.

Clarye was in total fear. She prayed within to God, “Father, help me to escape from this demon, this maniac, Father please. Help me to come out of this alive. Protect the little babies that parents have entrusted into my care, dear Lord. Forgive me for messing up big time again.”

Gary suddenly let out a loud, evil shriek of laughter, jerking her gold necklace from around her neck and yanking her, hard, from the cramped quarters of the closet. He roughly dragged her out only enough where he could untie her. Clarye glanced up at the clock that sat on the edge of the old brown, chewed up dresser in the bedroom. The clock said 2:00 p.m. Eric and Jeremy would be home any minute now. God had heard Clarye’s cry because Gary stopped beating her. He untied her and proceeded to drag her back down into the den where the babies were. She comforted them, getting them quieted down. Gary picked up his car keys, jumped in the car, and sped back out of the driveway.

“Thank you, Lord,” whispered Clarye. “Thank you once again.” After she calmed the children down, she went and cleaned up her battered body so the boys wouldn’t know what had happened. She picked up the broken pieces of wood and by the time the boys made it home, Clarye had the babies calmed down, the house looking normal and herself looking like she was the happiest little wife in town.

The next morning, Clarye was barely able to move. She was covered in bruises all over her body. When she looked in the mirror, she saw something else. She looked around for Gary but he was nowhere to be found. She called out to Eric and Jeremy. No answer. “They must have already left for school,” she whispered. That brought a sense of relief to Clarye. She felt soreness in her right arm and the curiosity rose within her. She looked closer at her swollen arm and barely etched out the words that Gary had put on her. It was one of those homemade tattoos like the ones he had carved all over his body. In crooked, purple, blotched letters Clarye saw, the words “Gary and Clarye.” A crooked heart surrounded the words. Clarye literally became sick to her stomach. She stumbled to the bathroom and threw up. The anger, the hurt, the humiliation of her life came pouring out of her soul.

Clarye called up her sister, Vita, and told her everything that had happened. As usual, Vita gave Clarye her support and a listening ear. She hurried over to see what she could do to talk some sense into her baby sister.

“Clarye,” Vita said, hurting for her sister. “You have to get out of this mess. This cycle of violence has got to end.”

“Don’t you realize that you’re going to wind up dead, girl? What is it going to take to wake you up?” She cried.

Clarye knew that Vita was indeed right. She had to escape this prison of violence and abuse. She had to regain her life. If not for herself, then for her sons. “What kind of example was she setting? Would Jeremy and Eric one day too become like Gary?”

She told Vita with a new sense of determination in her spirit, “You’re right, Vita. I’m going to do it. I’m going to make that step today. I can’t put if off any longer. I want to be here for my sons. I want to see them become young, successful men. I want to see them with families of their own. I won’t ever be able to do that if I stay here with this evil, psychotic monster.”

Since the lawyer who handled her last two divorces was no longer living in the city, she and Vita started thumbing through the yellow pages, searching for attorneys. After calling up three or four of them, Clarye finally talked with an attorney, Lawrence Romans. Mr. Romans told her to come in the next afternoon around 1:00 p.m.

I’ll come by and pick you up, Clarye,” said Vita. If Gary asks, just tell him that I need you to help me wrap some of my gift baskets. Tell him anything, just find a way to get out of that house tomorrow,” Vita said.

Clarye was still worried about how she was going to find a way from Gary. He hated her to be with her family or friends, no matter what the reason. Clarye didn’t know at the time, but God had already intervened. Gary was not going to come home for the next several days.

Vita stayed with her sister the remainder of the afternoon. After Eric and Jeremy came in from school, she left. They saw the blood caked marks and the tattoo on Clarye’s swollen arm.

“What in the world have you done, Momma?” Jeremy cried out.

“Yeah, what’s up?” asked Eric. “Why would you go and do something like that? Didn’t that hurt?” Clarye knew that she could not tell them the torture she had been going through at the hands of Gary.

“Look, it’s nothing, you guys, I just thought it would be nice to have a tattoo with me and Gary’s name on it. What’s wrong with it anyway? I think it looks kind of cute,” she lied.

Both Jeremy and Eric looked lost like they didn’t understand what was happening to their mother and her way of thinking lately. Had she gone mad? Was this what love was all about?

Since Gary had come into their lives, their mother’s glow of happiness had somehow faded slowly away. She was moody, withdrawn and to top it off she had started falling and running into things. They would come home from school to find that once again she had banged her head or fallen down the steps or something. If only they knew the pain and abuse Clarye was going through.

The next morning, Gary still hadn’t returned home. Clarye was relieved and prayed that he would stay away even longer. She looked through her closet to find something to wear to her appointment with Attorney Romans. She found a navy blue flair, below the knee, knit skirt and a matching navy blue and white polyester blouse. She pulled her brace out from under the bed and found her black vinyl, flat shoes. Clarye could not wear heels of any kind. So it was difficult for her to really dress up like she longed to do. Because of this she always made a habit of going casual. She hated her braces and the limitations that came along with it. She hated her disability sometimes so much that she would lash out at herself in anger for having had this stupid polio.

She laid her clothes out, jumped in the bath and soaked in the hot suds of the water letting it flow over her tired, aching, bruised body.

Attorney Romans turned out to be nice, exceptionally pleasant and quite courteous. He listened patiently while she told him everything. She even told him about her previous failed marriages. He listened without passing judgment on her.

“Clarye,” he said. “We all make mistakes in life. At one time or another, we all travel down the wrong road. That’s okay, though. God is always with us, never leaving us or forsaking us. Sure, you may have made some bad choices, but again, it’s okay. We’re going to get you out of this. Don’t worry about your previous mistakes. Don’t even worry about this guy. He’s evil and he’s vicious, but he’s not going to get away with it any longer.”

Clarye was living off a fixed income of $500 a month Social Security disability benefits and $230 a month food stamps, plus any money she got for babysitting. She was quite worried because she knew she had very little, if anything, to pay attorney fees. Attorney Romans told her not to worry. She could pay him on installments of whatever she could afford. Clarye left his office that afternoon full of joy and even a sense of peace enveloped her soul. Once again, she felt that Pain was about to move out of her life.

When Gary found out about the divorce, he was livid. Clarye was prepared for this because she moved out of the house and went and moved in with Vita the same day that she filed. She called and told Gary about her decision over the phone, knowing better than to tell him in person. Eric and Jeremy refused to leave with her. They were determined that they were not going to allow Gary to run them out of their own home.

It was during this time that Clarye also found out that Sandy was in her eighth month of pregnancy with Eric’s child. She had been so busy wrapped up in her own problems that she didn’t realize that Eric had all but moved in with Sandy and her folks. Now this. Now Clarye knew that she would be tied to this family the rest of her life and not only her but so would Eric. A child? What kind of life would he or she have with the kind of environment that Sandy lived in? How could she offer any help to Eric or Sandy when she was fighting to stay alive herself? This was all she needed now. She didn’t know how much more she could take. Her life was spiraling downward fast, out of control and it appeared that she was taking at least one of her sons down with her.

Naturally, the divorce was not without its complications. Gary refused to move out of the house until the court ordered him to leave. After he finally did move, some several weeks after the filing, he started stalking Clarye day in and day out. The telephone calls were full of promises to murder her. Clarye talked to Attorney Romans. A restraining order was placed against Gary. Yet that only seemed to add fuel to an already out of control, blazing inferno of hate toward Clarye. When she returned to her home, she still could not rest or be at ease. She knew that Gary had something planned that was not good for her but she just didn’t know what it was or when he would strike. But one thing she was sure of, Gary would definitely strike.

In the midst of all the hatred and confusion, a beautiful bouncing little boy made his entrance into the world named Eric Dillon, Jr. after his father. They decided to call him EJ, for short.

When Clarye hadn’t heard from Gary for almost four months, she was relieved and uneasy at the same time. At least if he was calling her, she would be able to tell how he was thinking and what he was plotting. He didn’t bother to show up for the divorce hearing, which Clarye was glad about. However, something within told her not to revel in this victory too much.

Clarye and the boys were asleep when she heard the first hard crash against her bedroom window. She jumped up from the bed, rushing toward the sound of the noise. As she moved slowly toward the window, she could hear Gary talking in a muffled sound to someone outside. She yelled through the broken window telling him that she was going to call the police if he didn’t leave.

“I don’t care who you call, Clarye. By the time the police get here, it’ll all be over. So call ‘em. Call ‘em if you want, tramp. You’ll see. You and your punk sons will be dead by the time they get here.” She fell backwards as the sound of more breaking glass awoke Eric and Jeremy from their sleep. They ran into the room, yelling.

“What’s going on, Momma?” They didn’t wait for a response. There was no need to. They heard Gary and his cohorts screaming vile obscenities at Clarye. They saw the broken glass scattered all over the carpet of their mother’s bedroom.

With a voice void of fear, Jeremy yelled, “Gary, if you think somebody’s scared of you, you’re wrong. Come on in here, you and your slimy, no good buddies. Come, on. I’m sick of you, Gary. I’m sick of your mess.”

Clarye couldn’t hear Gary’s response but she could hear what sounded like some kind of shuffling around.

Clarye called 911 while Jeremy continued to display courage that Clarye had never seen before in a young child. Just as she finished telling the operator what was going on, the phone went dead. The lights began to flicker until the house became surrounded in total darkness.

Eric followed the voices of Gary and his buddies. They ran toward the backside of the house. Clarye felt fear rushing in. She wasn’t fearful for herself, but for her sons and for little EJ who was sound asleep in the other bedroom. He was just an infant and Clarye knew that she had to protect him. She had to protect the entire family. But how?

Suddenly, the back door was being knocked against. She heard gunshots racing through the night air. “Get down. Hurry up, y’all. Please get down,” she told Eric and Jeremy.

Eric crawled in the dark, groping trying to find his way to his sleeping son. About the time he reached him, bright lights surrounded the entire house, flooding the inside with a light almost as bright as the sun.

The police had finally arrived. They raced to the door, screaming out for anyone in the house to answer.

“We’re in here. We’re all right,” Eric yelled. They told him to open the door. Clarye had never been happier in her life. She was thankful that the police had made it in time to save her family.

Police cars were everywhere, combing the neighborhood for Gary and his friends. Gary had indeed kept his word. He had gotten away before the police arrived. They spotted a stolen vehicle parked at the vacant property next door to Clarye’s house. After about two hours of searching, the police told her that they were going to call off the search. Just when they were about to leave, Clarye spotted a guy walking calmly down the street. At first, she didn’t recognize the young man, but something in his walk told her to look through the door again. She realized it was Gary.

“Officer,” she yelled. “There he is.” She pointed in the direction of the man who was about a half block away. They quickly apprehended him, dragging him off to jail.

Clarye began to receive threatening phone calls from Gary, from jail. Those same calls turned into pleading and crying. But Clarye had had enough. She was through. She felt nothingness for this man, this demon that had destroyed her life. But just like before, and without warning, the calls stopped. Over the next several weeks Clarye started to breathe a welcome sigh of relief; wanting desperately to believe that finally he had gotten the message that it was indeed over between the two of them.

She had no idea that Gary had been released from jail after spending only two and a half months. It was just like her mother in law, Dorothy, not bothering to share this important bit of news with her. However, that was of no real surprise, since she was always telling Clarye that Gary loved her and that sometimes abuse was part of a marriage.

After all Dorothy would say, “I’ve been married to A.T. over twenty years and we’re still together. Sure, he beats up on me sometimes, but I’m proud to say that I’ve stuck with him, stuck with my marriage. Clarye, you should do the same. Gary just has a lot to learn. He’s young and insecure. He loves you; don’t you see that? You just have to be patient with him, honey. Give him some time. He’ll change,” she would say over and over again.

It was around 6 o’clock Tuesday evening when Clarye decided she would go to visit EJ. Sandy had come to pick him up the day before so he could spend some time with her family. Not only did Sandy and EJ live with her folks, but she also had a sister, three brothers and a couple of her little cousins who lived in the small filthy, roach infested house. It was one of the reasons that Sandy didn’t have a problem with letting Eric keep EJ at their house as much as he wanted to.

While Clarye was busy playing with EJ, Sandy was in her bedroom, talking on the phone, something she loved to do.

Clarye stared at the roach covered walls and ceilings of their house and a since of dread came over her. She hated when EJ had to come to this house. She hated that Sandy was trapped here, with this family, in this filth, in this circle of violence. Clarye knew she had to escape once and for all from Gary before she was sucked further into this deep well that could only lead to death. She longed for Sandy to do the same. After she played with EJ for about an hour, she decided it was time to go. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She told Sandy that Eric would pick EJ up the following Monday.

“Okay, that’s fine with me, Clarye,” Sandy said. “I’ll see you then. Oh, by the way, did Dorothy tell you that they let Gary outta jail?”

“What?” Clarye screamed. “Out of jail?” Before Sandy could answer, Gary came storming inside.

“What are you telling her, you li’l, good for nothing heffa?” He screamed viciously. Right away, he shoved Sandy hard, almost knocking her down.

Gary then turned to Clarye. “Yeah, I’m out of jail, so what? You thought you could get away from me? But what did I tell you, girl. There’s no getting away from me,” he continued to yell, scream and curse.

“Sandy, I’m leaving. Have EJ ready on Monday,” Clarye said, trying not to show mounting fear. She started to hand over EJ to Sandy, when Gary jumped between the two of them. He grabbed EJ from Clarye’s trembling hands and threw him violently toward Sandy. Sandy screamed and scurried to catch her baby before he landed on the filthy, carpeted floor. She broke his fall and held him tightly in her arms.

EJ cried loudly. “It’s okay, baby. Mama’s got you,” Sandy said and then turned toward her brother. “I hate you,” she yelled in his face.

“Get outta my face or the next time you won’t be able to catch that little brat.” EJ kept crying but Gary focused on Clarye. He yanked her by her hair and began beating her breasts with his fists, and pounding her head over and over against the wall of Sandy’s bedroom.

Dorothy ran in yelling, “Boy, don’t be hitting on that girl like that.”

Gary didn’t seem to hear a word. He kept on beating and pounding on Clarye without mercy. She had no strength to fight back, and because her crutches had fallen from her arms, she could no longer keep her balance. He took her by her arm and dragged her outside to his car, pulling her forcefully, against her will, inside the vehicle. She had no idea where her crutches were. She tried to muffle her cries, still not wanting Gary to know that he was defeating her. He sped off in the car with Clarye inside down the narrow, dark street.

Clarye didn’t know it at the time, but Sandy had called Clarye’s house to tell Eric and Jeremy what had happened. Eric and Jeremy called their grandfather and their Aunt Vita. Everyone went to look for Clarye.

Gary took Clarye to a school park a few blocks away from their house. He pulled up on the backside of the parking area where no one would be able to see them. He continued his physical assault on Clarye, stomping her, beating her, cursing her. She knew that she was staring death in the face. She had to think, and think fast.

Talk. Talk to him. Tell him what he wants to hear. “Gary,” she said, crying hard and heavy. “Don’t you know how much I love you, baby? Don’t you know it hurt me to see you have to go to jail. I didn’t want them to take you, but I thought you didn’t love me anymore. I thought you hated me,” Clarye lied, hoping her words would save her life. “When you broke into the house, I believed that you had found you someone better than me, Gary. I was so hurt. I thought you wanted me out of your life.” Clarye continued to talk. She talked and pleaded with him for what seemed to her like hours. She begged him to take her back and to forgive her. She knew this was the only way she would be able to get Gary’s mind off of killing her. Sure enough, Gary stopped cursing and beating her.

“Clarye, you know I love you. You just have to listen to what I tell you. That’s all. Just let me do my thing. I’m not going to leave you. Stop getting your folks into our business. Everything will work out. If you just do what I say, everything will be all right. You keep making me hurt you, Clarye, provoking me. But just do what I say and I won’t hurt you ever again. I hate to hurt you, but you make me do this, Clarye. Stop making me hit you.”

“I will, Gary. And I’m so sorry.”

“Clean yourself up. We’re going home. I know your people are worried about you,” he said, looking as if he had won a great battle.

Clarye drug herself slowly into the car. Every part of her body ached. She began to thank God for delivering her from death’s door. She knew that she would, somehow, get this sick demon out of her life. How? She didn’t know. But with God’s help, she knew she would.

When they pulled up in the driveway of her house, Clarye saw her daddy’s car. Vita, Jeremy and Eric were standing in the yard and her daddy was sitting in his car.

Eric and Jeremy ran toward her.

“Mama, are you all right?” asked Eric.

Clarye slightly nodded.

Jeremy madly rushed toward Gary.”

“You sorry, son of a...” Jeremy screamed.

“Stop, Jeremy, please. Gary and I talked. We’re going to try to make it work,” she said. “Everybody loses their temper at some time or another,” she said convincingly. “Everyone makes mistakes. Everything will be just fine, you’ll see,” she continued.

Eric, Jeremy and Vita stared at her in total disgust and disbelief.

“Is he making you say all this?” asked Jeremy and he looked at Gary with a look that could kill.

They were yet to understand the reason for Clarye’s decision.

“Gary, come here,” Theo said.

Gary looked at Clarye, then at Eric, Jeremy and Vita. Then he turned and walked over to Theo’s car.

“Get in,” Theo said. As usual, Theo appeared to be calm in the midst of the storm. Without raising his voice but with an uncanny sternness, he warned Gary never to lay a hand on his baby girl again.

Gary, with his smooth way with lies, said, “Mr. Dawson, you have my word.”

The hate Clarye felt for Gary was eating away inside her more and more each day. After Gary had brought her back home he still did not move back in. That was another answered prayer for Clarye. She explained to Eric and Jeremy her plan to get Gary out of their lives for good and why she had to say the things she said that night.

“If I didn’t do what I did and said what I said, I would be lying in a ditch somewhere. I had to do it,” she told them tearfully. Clarye was glad to know that Eric and Jeremy didn’t know that Gary had thrown EJ out of her arms. She had called back that night and asked Sandy if EJ was okay. Thank God for miracles. She made Sandy promise never to tell Eric what Gary had done to little EJ. She didn’t want to see her son go to jail for murdering scum like Gary, even though Clarye believed that Gary deserved to die.

A few days after that terrifying night, Clarye went to visit her sister, Vita. She was looking tired, worn out in spirit and body. She was still nursing wounds from the violent beating. Just when Clarye was going into Vita’s house, she saw her father pulling up in the driveway.

“Hi, baby,” he said. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, Daddy. I’m all right,” Clarye answered with not much fight left in her voice. “Where are you headed?” she asked.

“I just came from getting your momma some soup. She’s coming down with a bit of a cold. I was passing by and saw you out here and wanted to tell you, hi,” he said. “Clarye.”

“Yes, Daddy?”

“You sure do look beautiful,” he said with amazing tenderness and love in his voice for his baby daughter.

Clarye was certainly puzzled because she knew she was at an all time low and looked the part as well. But she mustered up and said, “Thanks, Daddy. I love you. Buh-bye, now.”

“Bye, Clarye.”

The next morning, Clarye’s mother called screaming and hollering in the phone. “I can’t wake your father up. Call the ambulance,” she screamed. Gary was just walking into the house appearing from only God knows where. She told him what had just happened and then ran out of the house, heading toward her parent’s home.

When she arrived at the house, she raced into the bedroom. Her father looked so peaceful. He was gone. He had died in his sleep. Later it was determined that he died of heart failure.

Clarye blamed herself for her father’s death. If only she had listened to everyone when they tried to tell her that Gary was no good for her. If only she had listened. She had involved everyone into her cycle of madness. Now, it was her father who paid the final price. Now, she had lost the one man who understood her, the one man who loved her, the one man who never condemned her no matter how many times she failed at life, the one man who tried to keep her safe.

Clarye hated Gary. She prayed for his death. She prayed for God to destroy him. How could God take her daddy and leave a demon like Gary to walk around and terrorize, maim and destroy people’s lives? How, how, how? But she never got an answer.

The divorce became final three months after Clarye filed. Gary eventually stopped his calling and stalking. The police rearrested him about six months later for vandalism of property. The charges had been filed by the electric company and telephone company against him because Gary had destroyed their property the night he terrorized Clarye and her sons.

When she finally escaped this mad demon of a man, Pain took a most welcome vacation from her life.