About two weeks had gone by, but Lyulle was still smoldering from the prior escapade with B. He was a ticking time bomb, waiting for the opportunity to explode on me. I would give him a reason.
“Lyulle, could you watch the kids this Thursday while I go out with my team?” I’d asked. Surely, two or three hours would be okay for him to keep his children while I mingled with my team from the branch. Lyulle had encouraged me in the past to make friends and get out there among the people, especially at work. I learned from this experience that all of that encouragement was crap. How was I to be able to do such things without his help and cooperation as a parent and a partner? Being that it was promotion time, I somehow thought he’d see the value in all of this. I asked him.
“I think we can work something out, Jericho,” he assured me.
“Great. I’ll let everyone know I’ll be there.”
Excited now, I could finally get to living life again. Maybe things would not be so bad after all by way of a work-life balance. I’d make the most of it.
Thursday after work, I arrived home as scheduled. Lyulle was there with the children as planned, but once I had arrived, he started to get dressed to leave the apartment.
“What time will you be back this evening? Tonight is the night I go out with my team.”
“What time are you going again?” Lyulle asked me, perturbed.
“From about seven to nine or so …”
“I’ll be back to keep them from seven to nine, exactly two hours. I have something to do.” He stated this frankly with an attitude and with real anger behind his words.
“Okay, Lyulle. Two hours.”
I was hurt by his words, the way he’d said what he said, and his actions. I was disappointed. There I was, in the middle of my living space with both boys, feeling like I could not even get time away from home to free my mind, to think about something other than the boys, and to maybe help position myself for a better job in the future. I was hurt that he did not want to spend more time with his children other than picking them up from daycare and bringing them to my apartment until I arrived home. Brooklyn and his little brother were his responsibility as well as mine. Why didn’t he want more time alone with his kids? And I did not ask him often to babysit his children, I thought. I was moved to anger, so I called him.
“You know what? That’s okay, you don’t have to keep the kids. I’ll take them to Akron and just do something with my teammates this weekend. Thanks anyway.”
He offered a rebuttal. “Why? You don’t wanna go anymore?”
“I do want to go, but I’ll only have an hour to enjoy myself. It’s not worth the trouble.”
“Okay, you can go out tomorrow. I’ll keep Brooklyn. He’s old enough to go with me. You will need to find a babysitter for his little brother.”
“Okay. I will. I will take him to my grandmother’s house in Akron, and Brooklyn will stay with you.” It was a compromise, and this is what we agreed on.
The next morning, I awoke for work at six o’clock. I dressed Brooklyn and his little brother and prepared for the day. As planned, Lyulle would get Brooklyn later that day, and I’d travel with his little brother to Mansfield to drop him off at my family’s.
It had been a long day. I was upset from the night before. I was upset with not being able to live my life freely. I traveled up the highway through construction zones in the rain and in the dark, driving my SUV with my baby in the car. I’d left the house nearing 9:00 p.m., and I was exacerbated on the drive. To me, it was worth it all for a little peace of mind. Nana was running late to meet me, and I was tired of waiting in Mansfield for her to arrive. I hopped back on the road and headed north. I met her and my aunt in Lodi and dropped off my precious bundle to the two of them.
On the way back down the highway, I stopped at the BP gas station there right off the highway where I had so many times before to get some quick shut-eye so I would not wreck before making it back home. I was sleepy and tired to the point that I was falling asleep on the road. I had to pull over. I must have been sleep for only twenty minutes before my phone began to ring. It was Lyulle.
“Where the fuck are you?”
“I am on my way home. I pulled over to get some slee—”
“You better get your ass home right now,” he scolded.
“Okay, Lyulle, I am on the way.”
How dare he be angry? I didn’t know what his problem is or why he was upset. I knew all too well it was gonna be a problem when I got there.
I arrived home at about one in the morning. I crawled right into the bed, tired as hell. Ten minutes later, Lyulle walked into my house and up to my room and flipped on my light.
He walked directly over to my bed. I sat up. He yelled some majestic bullshit and punched me dead in the face. He hit me so hard that my ears began to ring, and my face felt like it had cracked right down the middle. He did not stop. He continued beating me up there in the room on the floor until I had gotten up on my feet and headed for the stairs. He kicked me in the back, pushing me down the stairs of my apartment, the whole time yelling fallacies he’d made up in his mind about what had gone on earlier in the evening as to what caused me to be late getting home, the home he did not even stay at.
He kicked my ass all down the stairs, all across the living room, back up the stairs again, and into the bathroom, where he attempted to choke me and repeatedly punch me, causing me again to somehow piss all over myself. When he had stopped this explosion of punches and blows to my face, chest, and upper body, I gathered myself to go back down the stairs. Lyulle was now sitting on the stairs with me positioned directly in front of the door. He was not stopping his unsubstantiated accusations and curses, and there was no way I could forcibly stop him.
Immediately, my survival skills kicked in. I quickly opened the door behind me and ran full speed, sprinting and screaming the entire time. “Help me, he’s gonna kill me, someone call 911. He’s gonna kill me.”
My next-door neighbor was already outside when my naked body emerged from my door. I ran right past him in hopes that he would help me. I just ran, hoping someone, anyone, anywhere, would please help me.
Lyulle was fast, and he’d caught me. He dragged me back inside my apartment by my hair, flailing me onto my couch. Before he exited, he promised me. “If I go to jail, I am going to kill you.”
I’d known he was going to jail for this one. This one, I did not deserve. If I deserved all of the other ass-whoopings he passed my way, I definitely did not deserve this one, and he’d beat the shit out of me because of how ridiculous he felt.
He left me there.
I lay on the floor of my place, and I cried. I cried hard. I cried for my life and for my kids’ lives. I cried because I could not see any way out of this tumultuous circumstance. No one could help me out of it.
There were knocks on the door. Rap-rap-rap.
“Ma’am, we know you are in there. Open the door. Let us help you. Is he still in there?”
I could hear the police officers outside my door, asking me questions, and my next-door neighbor was out there with them. After a few minutes of pondering whether or not to open the door, I heard my neighbor talking. I wrapped a towel around myself, and I opened the door. The police officers wasted no time to walk in. My neighbor followed them inside. I trusted him, so I spoke to the police officers. My neighbor offered me the couch at his place after the officers asked if I had anywhere that I could go for the remainder of the night. I went over with him for the night. After a number of photos, statements, reports, and failed attempts by the police officers to try to have Lyulle come back to the apartment, we all left. The night’s shenanigans were finally over. My mental state was all fucked up. I was sleepy and about to get drunk. I’d spent the night with my neighbor. He fully comforted me.