Whatley stayed around for as long as she could stand it.
Lyulle had become a pest to her. We played around a few more times. I wanted to appease Lyulle. I wanted to make him happy at least, and I wanted to not love him so much to be able to enjoy this shit. I could not. If I had had close friends around me, they might have been able to advise me on the ways to handle my unlikely circumstance. I was too ashamed to admit any of it, too ashamed of the pain I was in.
I had become unbearable to live with and did not care about anything really, and by not caring, I mean I cared about everything. I cried when Lyulle was gone. I cried while he was there. We’d argue for no reason at all. I’d shut down and maybe not have to think about anything. I think back now on the look in his eyes during these times. He was hurting too, but his pain was masked by anger and withdrawal. He could not please me, and definitely when it came to Whatley.
Apparently, Whatley had owed Lyulle some money, or maybe Lyulle took money from her. He had begun to sell weed as a means to make ends meet. He was storing it at her house and her sister’s house. There was something about a 2:00 a.m. visit to her mother’s house where she was staying. Lyulle apparently went to her house and beat down her door. Her mother was upset, and so was she. I don’t even remember how I heard this much of what had happened between them. I was just his girlfriend and second baby mama.
They were close, I must admit, talking and texting all the time. She was his nu-nu. Whatever he wanted, she gave it to him—food or a place to sleep or hang out. He’d gotten a checking and savings account with her; this was how she was paying him for a credit program he was working on with her to help repair her credit, or so he told me. It was all too familiar to me though. The first thing he’d wanted to do with me was put me on his checking account, but it never dawned on me why, and I did not ask him. It was flattering when he told me to go to the bank and sign papers. I was all too happy to do it but had no plans to make any deposits or withdrawals either, really.
Lyulle and Whatley had frequent meetings. She was the secretary for a local charter school on Morse Road in Columbus. He took me with him a few times while he conducted business with her. It was sickening to me, really, but I played along as best as I could for the most part. She was his friend. She was not my friend. I was furious with Lyulle but could not find a reason to be upset with her.
It could have been that maybe their relationship just fell apart. I am guessing here. Who knows besides he and she and maybe Thomas? After all, it was Thomas who had linked them up to begin with. Whatever the reason, they had stopped speaking—to my knowledge, that is.
I answered the phone. “Hello.”
“Baby.”
“Yeah?”
“They are locking me up. I’m getting violated. I don’t know where I will be going, but I’ll call you when I get somewhere. Are you mad at me?”
Let me think. I zone out. It has been months, and I have resented you. I have since lost the baby weight due to a lean diet, juicing, and jogging. Physically, I was back and healthy. I was doing good enough and didn’t come home last night. We have not really spoken to each other in days.
“No.” I paused. “I am not mad at you,” I said in the most convincing voice I could muster.
“Sorry, I …” Lyulle started to explain.
I zoned out again. My mouth spoke. “I know, I know, LP. We were prepared for this. Just call me when you can. I am okay.”
“Okay then. I’ll call you as soon as I get somewhere. I love you, babe. I love you.”
“Yeah, I love you too. Talk to you soon,” I said, crushed and bruised.
Okay. I was not okay. I was hurt and mad. I was disappointed, and my heart burned. Fuck this, I have to get ready for work. I shrugged off the feeling that bit of bad news provided me before breakfast and filtered my thoughts to prepare for the days ahead.
Brooklyn had been away with my family in Akron as I had just begun a customer service representative job at the bank. The one-thousand-dollar car we bought, a Lumina, had blown up on the ride back to Columbus from dropping Brooklyn off. It was the day of my orientation, and Lyulle managed to keep the car running until we had gotten all the way down that two-hundred-mile ride to my new job’s headquarters in Dublin. I had long wanted to give up on that trip alone. I wanted to give up on life. Lyulle never did give up, so I could not either. He was overflowing with perseverance. He was an inspiration to me when it came to stick-to-it-iveness. He knew working at Fifth Third Bank was a good opportunity that could change our lives, so he’d made that trip happen. My attitude was that of defeat or somewhere on the brink of it. I was pessimistic the whole way through.
Lyulle was still maneuvering his situation—getting money that is—when he was arrested. It was the dead of winter, and I was back on the bus, careless and nearly hopeless. I’d ridden the bus to Dublin for a week straight for training. The bus ride from Reynoldsburg to Dublin was two hours if I had to transfer and an hour if I caught a connecting bus and express that only traveled a couple of distinct hours out of the day and that I could only catch at certain spots in Reynoldsburg. The city buses went as far as Mount Carmel Hospital East, and I had to walk the rest of the way. It was sometime right after Christmas of that year and right before New Year’s 2011, and it was still not the coldest winter ever for me. What was I going to do? My world was crumbling in my hands. Here I was in our apartment, Lyulle locked up again. I was alone and devastated but fine.
After working at Fifth Third Bank for sixty days, I was provided a credit card, which was one of the employee benefits. With two hundred dollars to spend, I went to Budget on Hamilton Road and got a rental, a silver gray 2008 Chevy Impala. It rode smooth. Sean, the manager of the store, took care of me; we’d gotten to know each other as I paid my rental every two weeks for the next few months.
This time would not be like any other time. I would take care of business. I would support Lyulle as much as possible. I would not be saddened. I would not be down and out. I needed a break from him anyway, from my life, from that life. I needed to breathe, and breathe again, I would, dammit.