Breaking the Cycle (13 page)

I arose from the grisly scene in a trance. I plodded out of the house and walked down the hill to Upwards Alley. It was nighttime now and the streets were quiet. I snuck around to the back of Donnell Shunt’s house and hid behind the fence. The grindstone was still there and I watched it for a while… harboring cruel visions accompanied by dark thoughts, the pair playing with each other on a jungle gym in the twisted playground of my mind.

I look back now at the detritus of my life, at the mess that was my misspent youth and I can only feel wondrous justification. My existence is a fractional cycle, ending and beginning in shattered bouts of hopelessness. My memories are like that also; violent images that push themselves to the forefront of my consciousness in staccato rhythms of madness. Images of blood and guts, fists and knives, pain and agony, flash across my mind and cause me to, temporarily, push against the restraints that bind my mental state.

My agony sometimes comes in the terrifying form of questions: Did I let my mother die? Did I really bring about my stepfather’s bloody demise? Was my childhood pain only a youthful nightmare? I don’t really know the difference between illusion and reality anymore. They keep me locked up most of the time but the pills and medication are my real captors. I’ve been a functional zombie for so long that I’ve lost touch with the warmth of humanity, the sound of the human heart, and the joy of laughter. Through the haze of my insanity only one light shines for me to hold onto; sometimes violence is the only answer to violence, and blood is the only detergent that has washed my soul clean. Forever.

Nane Quartay was born in upstate New York and attended Augusta College in Augusta, Georgia. After a tour in the United States Navy he traveled extensively before returning to New York to begin writing his first novel
Feenin.
His next novel,
The Badness,
is due out this spring. He now resides in the Washington, D.C. area.

S
ILENT
SUFFERING

S
HONDA
C
HEEKES

C
HAPTER
O
NE

I don’t condone violence of any kind. But I think it’s really embarrassing when it happens to a man. I’m basically treated like a helpless, punk ass bitch in my own house.

Candace, or Candy as she’s known, is the inflictor of my pain. I’ve suffered unthinkable pain at her hands for more than a year. I bet the question in your mind is why do I stay and take it. I guess because I feel a connection to her in some sort of sick and twisted way. Let me elaborate a bit to give you a better understanding.

Candy and I are both products of what happens when you’re raised in an abusive environment. Her abuse was experienced secondhand. Her father would beat her mother unmercifully on any given day. A personal punching bag for the old man. Candy promised herself that would never be her lot in life. She’d always be able to take care of herself. Never have to put all of her dependence in a man in order to make it. But in her effort to protect herself from becoming a victim, she learned to victimize.

The abuse in my house stemmed from a woman scorned. When I was four, my old man left one evening for the corner store. I guess he never found it. Since I was a near replica of her source of pain, Mama took it out on me whenever the feeling struck her. A slap across the face; a punch to the head. After a while, she started tying me to the bed. Dared me to make a sound or piss. As hard as I tried, by the second day, I would lose my bladder control and she would lose control on me.

One episode that has stayed prevalent in my memory happened around my fourteenth birthday. I don’t remember exactly what it was that set her off. It didn’t take much anyway. I just remember the situation almost landed me in the hospital after being horrendously beaten. Tired and breathless from beating me with a belt and being that I hadn’t given her the desired reaction of crying, she searched around for something that would surely get those tears out of me. That night it happened to be a hammer. I remember the feel of the metal making contact with a piece of my skull with a frightening thud. I ran as fast as I could out of the house in search of a safe haven. Ms. Johnson opened her door as soon as she heard the lock click. I ended up at her house for the next week, until she couldn’t afford another mouth to feed.

Soon the prospect of going off to college became my escape plan. Tessa would laugh and tell me there was no way I was going to make it at a four-year school.

“Yo’ dumb ass might as well go on down to the nearest trade school and call it a day.” She’d laugh that wicked bone-chilling laugh I’d grown to hate as she lay up on the sofa watching her favorite soaps.

In spite of her, I made it further than the four-year college and attended dental school where I trained to become an oral surgeon. See, I learned to take that negativity she fed me on a regular basis and turn it into fuel. More than anyone in this world, I was going to show her.

But there was that side of me that couldn’t completely cut her off. She was my mother and had given me life. I’d sit around and wonder if he hadn’t walked out and left us, would my relationship with her had been different. Would she have been the loving and nurturing mother I’d seen growing up watching the Cosbys and other television shows?

Candy once asked me if I had any desires to find my father; just to let him know the hell I had been put through because of his shortcomings. My answer was a simple “no.” I’d long given up that fantasy. And at this point in my life, I don’t know if I would be able to control my anger.

I used to worry that the abuse I endured at the small hands of my mother would eventually turn me into an abuser myself. But it was the opposite. I had grown into a weak man where women were concerned. Went out of my way to please a woman; especially my woman.

Candy blew into my life after a breakup with a married woman. After I wined and dined her and uplifted her from the depressive state she was in when we first met, she decided to go back to her husband. “Glad I could be of service,” was the best response I had. Instead of telling her how used and betrayed I felt, I helped her move her things back to his house. Yeah, stupid me.

There’s no truer statement than the one about how we attract certain types of people at certain times in our lives. Candy happened to be another stop on the train of destruction I was riding. I remember the first time the monster that lived hidden under the big brown eyes and not quite perfect, but beautiful, smile showed its head.

“Eddie, what the fuck is this?” she asked about the piece of paper in her hand.

I walked closer and she handed the paper to me for a closer inspection. As I read the letter, the contents of it became clear—it was a thank you note from one of my patients. The woman had been petrified about having her wisdom teeth pulled. I assured her that I would be extremely gentle during the procedure, making sure the discomfort she experienced was minimal. While the content of the letter was nothing more than a thank you, Candy seemed to be reading something that was supposedly between the lines.

“Are you fucking her?”

“Candy, you’ve got to be kidding? This woman is—”

Before I could get the rest of my statement out, she smashed her fist into the side of my head; hitting me hard enough to make me stumble and my teeth rattle.

“Don’t think you’re going to stand up here and tell me a blatant lie. I told you when we got together, cheating is the one thing that I won’t tolerate in any shape, form, or fashion!” Her hand quickly found its way to my family jewels and grabbed a handful. “This is my dick! Don’t you ever forget that, you hear? Before another bitch gets it, I’ll Lorena Bobbitt your ass!”

Her eyes glazed over with anger. My fear paralyzed me momentarily. All I could see was Tessa. Tessa with the unfeeling eyes that bore through to my soul. Tessa with hatred for the hurt one man had placed on her; hurt she tried to take out on the one person in the world who loved her more than breathing.

Once Candy loosened her grip, she methodically undid my belt and zipped my pants down. Fear of not knowing what was going to happen next kept me from getting the instant arousal most men experience when a woman strokes their dicks the way she was stroking mine. Knowing that if I didn’t reach that erection she was in search of, I would surely be accused of the cheating she was insinuating, I put a mind trick in place to help the process along.

Candy fell to her knees and kissed the head, all the while praising how much he meant to her. She loved him and didn’t want him near some foreign pussy. Being inside her mouth and pussy was the only place on earth for him. When she finally inserted me fully into her mouth, I relaxed enough to enjoy the oral pleasure. She sucked and slurped until I reached the climax she desired.

She regained her standing position and wiped the remnants of the short escapade from her mouth as I stood there helpless with my pants around my ankles. I stumbled toward the nearest couch and collapsed onto it. She walked away and returned with a warm rag and threw it at me.

“Clean yourself up.”

I obeyed and fastened my pants up. Like a puppy, I followed her into the bedroom and sat on the bed until she came out of the bathroom.

“What was that about, Candy?”

“Just wanted to let you know who’s running things.”

“Why couldn’t you simply believe me? Candy, I don’t want anyone but you. I need you to trust me when I tell you that.”

“The one thing I’ve learned about trust is you can never completely trust anyone. My mama trusted my daddy and he did everything he was big enough to do and then some. Unlike Mama, I know how to please my man. So, next time you get the urge to seek pleasure elsewhere, keep in mind the things I’m willing to do for and to you.” She walked over and kissed me on the lips before disappearing out the door.

The next episode came a month or so later. We were at the annual function for black dentists when I was approached by an old schoolmate.

“Eddie? Eddie Adelson, is that you?”

I turned to find myself on the receiving end of the person who had played a major part in my finishing dental school. Nisha Von had been more than a friend to me while we were in school. She’d been my crutch, my sounding board, and study partner. I owed much of my success to her.

“Nisha, it’s so good to see you.” I instinctively reached out to hug her.

“How long has it been? Three or four years? How are you? How’s your practice?”

“Everything is great. I can’t complain. What about you? Did you open your own practice? Or are you still over there with the group?”

“Actually, I went back to school to become a hygienist.”

“A hygienist? What prompted that?”

“After the baby, I wanted to be able to devote more time to her. The decision wasn’t a hard one.”

“A baby? Wow, that’s wonderful! So, I take it that you’re married now? Or are you one of these new independent women who doesn’t have a problem with being a single parent?”

“No, I’m happily married.”

“A dentist?”

“Heavens no! One dentist in the family is enough. Someone needs to be able to let the child get away with eating sweets every now and then.”

We both laughed.

Candy strolled over to where we were standing, wrapped her arm around mine, and brought her body up close to me.

“Nisha, I’d like you to meet—”

“Candace. Candace Knight,” she said in a dry tone.

Nisha extended her hand to Candy, who glared at it and then kissed me. “Eddie, let’s get out of here. There’s nobody here but a bunch of buppies. I’m so tired of hearing about teeth. I swear I’ll throw up if another person walks up to me to inquire about my dental work.”

Nisha looked down at her hand, the one Candy pretended not to see, and then pulled it back to her side. She shook her head and smiled uneasily.

“Well, Eddie, you must promise to keep in touch. Maybe you and…” She paused, more for effect than anything. “… Candace can come over to the house and join Mike and me for dinner. I grill a mean steak.”

“While that sounds all nice and well, Nashae, eating steak gives me heartburn,” Candy replied sarcastically, misstating Nisha’s name purposefully.

I cleared my throat. “Nisha, it was really nice seeing you again. I’m happy to hear about the baby and your marriage. Maybe some other time, though.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Nisha gave me a pity stare as she slid her business card in my coat pocket without Candy seeing her. She mouthed the words “call me” as I glanced back while Candy yanked me toward the exit.

I was still hot under the collar once we got home. “I can’t believe you embarrassed me like that. Nisha happens to be—”

“Yes, you told me; an old college friend. Umm, hmm, like I’m supposed to believe there was nothing more between y’all.”

“Candy, I’ve never kept anything from you. You know the gruesome details of mostly everything else that has happened in my life. Why would I lie to you about something as trivial as an old girlfriend? If that were the situation between me and Nisha, I would’ve told you, but it wasn’t. She and I were more like—”

“Brother and sister. Yeah, I’ve heard that line before.”

“You really need to seek some counseling about your problems with infidelity.”

“What did you say?”

I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I knew the monster was going to make an appearance that night.

“I’m not the one with a problem, Mama’s boy. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Candy. I was simply trying to say that I’m not like your father.”

“You’re damn right; you’re not my father.”

“Candy, look—”

I went to walk out of the room and turned around to catch the TV remote with my forehead. Just like in a Looney Tunes cartoon, the hickey quickly rose up. I stumbled my way out of the room and into the guest bedroom where I fell on the floor. I could feel a trickle of warm blood as it snaked its way down the side of my head. Before I could recover, she was on me, punching and slapping and pulling at my clothes. This time she undid my pants and pulled them and my boxers completely off. She hastily slid out of the black slinky dress she was wearing and removed her thong. Then she ripped open my shirt, sending the buttons flying across the room. With nothing on but a pair of stilettos, she slid on top of me and began to ride her way to ecstasy. The harder she pushed, the more she cursed.