“Girl, what is wrong with that man of yours? He was shooting daggers my way.”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t like what I’m wearing. He’s kinda old-fashioned.”
“Well, he had better get over it and chill. Girl, he should be proud that you have a body that looks like that. I mean, you don’t look slutty or nothing. What’s his problem?”
“I don’t know, Linda. He’s just very jealous. He doesn’t like other men looking at me. Just drop it, okay?” I said, close to tears.
Linda looked at me and noticed my distress. “Mia, what’s wrong? You know you can talk to me.”
I wanted to tell her so badly, but when I opened my mouth to speak, words would not come out.
“My marriage—”
“Come on, Mia, let’s go,” Brice shouted as he roughly grabbed me by the arm and pushed me.
“Where are we going?” I asked as I looked apologetically at Linda standing there with her mouth agape.
“Just bring your ass to the car. I’m going to tell Moms that we’ll see her at home,” he said between clenched teeth.
I went obediently to the car, got in on the passenger side and was nervously waiting for him when he arrived a few minutes later. He got in and didn’t even look in my direction nor say one single word the entire drive home. I sat as close to the passenger door as possible and tried to disappear.
As soon as we arrived home and stepped through the front door, all hell broke loose. My initial plan was to make myself as invisible as possible until he calmed down, but Brice wasn’t having that.
He grabbed me by the arm, screaming, “What is this shit you’re wearing!”
Before I could even answer his question, he was shouting and towering over me. “You know I don’t allow you to wear shit like this. You see, that’s why I didn’t want you hanging with that slut Linda.”
“Everybody is a slut, let you tell it. Brice, I can’t talk to you when you are like this. Calm down . . . please,” I screamed.
He shoved me backwards. “Don’t tell me what to do. Do you hear me?”
By now I was crying hysterically.
“Brice, please don’t. There is nothing wrong with this top.”
“Oh, so there is nothing wrong with you showing off your body to every goddamn man you see? You know I don’t allow you to wear shit like this. Take your goddamn ass upstairs and pull it off before I do!”
I stood there sobbing and staring at him in disbelief.
He doesn’t allow . . .Who the hell does he think he is? . . . Certainly not my father.
Brice was furious, red faced and ready to kick my ass.
“Mia, your tears don’t affect me. Get . . . your . . . ass . . . upstairs! Do you hear me?”
I turned to run upstairs and murmured, “Yeah, I hear you loud and clear, muthafucka.”
“What did you say? You don’t disrespect me like that,” he said as he grabbed me and slapped me twice, hard, real hard, with the back of his hand across my face.
I pulled away and was running, tripping, stumbling up the stairs, and he was right behind me. “Take off that goddamn shirt before I beat your fucking ass, Mia!”
I made it, somehow, upstairs to our bedroom and he started ripping my new shirt off and hitting me all over my shoulder and stomach as I tried to shield myself. I was defenseless. By now I was naked from the waist up, trying to cover up my exposed breasts, while he continued to rant and rave and beat me.
“You make me do this shit to you. You make me beat your ass. Goddammit, Mia. What do you expect when you act like a whore in my face?” Usually Brice hit me with an open hand. That day it was his fists that made contact.
By now I was curled up in a fetal position on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably, still trying to hide my breasts.
“Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t cover up now,” he said as he grabbed my hands away from my breasts and roughly fondled them. I tried to pull away, and he grabbed my wrists and scratched my arms in the process. He knocked me back down on the bed and with his full weight on me, he forced my legs open as he used one hand to roughly yank my shorts and panties down to my ankles, tearing the shorts in the process.
“Brice, please stop. You don’t know what you are doing. Stop, dammit.”
By now he had his fingers roughly inside of me while he was still trying to fondle my breasts and take his penis out of his pants.
“Isn’t this what you want, bitch?” he screamed in my face as he flipped me over on my stomach and started pushing his dick into my ass.
“I can’t even stand to see your slutty face. You want to act like a slut, then I’ll treat you like one.”
“Stop, Brice. Leave me alone. You promised you wouldn’t hurt me again. You promised,” I screamed in a muffled voice because he had my face pressed against the bedspread as he continued to violate me. He raised his fists to hit me again when Vivica walked in.
“Oh my God! Brice, oh my God! Brice . . . what is going on? What are you doing to that child?” she screamed as she ran over to rescue me and cover me up with a green throw that was on the chair by the bed.
Brice turned to walk out of the room. “Mia had better learn to respect me, Mama. I’m tired of her mess. I’m tired of it. I wear the pants in my household.”
I don’t remember much of the rest of the evening. I vaguely remember Vivica helping to clean me up somewhat. I had bruises and scratches all over my body. My cheeks and eyes were swollen where he hit me. I’d probably have a black eye. I would have to sport the shades again. She put me to bed, and I must have slept for hours after my crying finally stopped, because when I awoke the open curtain at the window revealed it was dark outside and the upstairs was dead silent. I lifted my bruised and aching body out of the bed, a moan escaping my lips, and I painstakingly made my way to the bathroom and took a long hot shower and dressed in one of my long-sleeved shirts in order to hide some of the damage he had inflicted. I would be black-and-blue for days. This was the worst beating yet.
Vivica found me standing near the window when she came up to check on me. She had walked quietly into the bedroom with a serious scowl on her face. This was new. She typically presented a pleasant expression to everyone.
“Mia, come sit down, dear. We need to talk.”
I slowly crossed the bedroom and sat down next to her on the bed, trying my best not to inflict any more pain to my already sore body.
“Mia,” she said as she looked deep into my eyes, “how long has this been going on? I know this isn’t the first time this has happened.”
I looked down at the flowered bedspread because I couldn’t bear for her to look at me in pity for something her son had done.
“Mia, talk to me. Over the last few months, I have grown to love you like a daughter, and this hurts me as much as it hurts you.”Vivica looked away as though she were thinking of another time and place.
“Believe me, we didn’t raise Brice to act like this. I can’t believe he did this . . .”
There was a silence as we both sat on that tiny bed; two women who shared the stigma of spousal abuse. We were both lost in our own separate thoughts. Me, I couldn’t believe this had happened again and I guess Vivica was thinking back to her younger days and the times it had happened to her with Brice’s father. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“Vivica, I appreciate your concern, but I really don’t want to talk about it. I shouldn’t have worn the outfit. I knew Brice didn’t like me wearing stuff like that. Sometimes I can be so stupid. So stupid. I should have known better by now.”
When Vivica spoke again, her tone and the anger reflected in her voice startled me for a minute. I had never heard her this upset. She was almost shouting. “Mia, don’t let me ever hear you talking like that again. Do you hear me? You have the right to wear whatever you want, whenever you want. Brice is my only son, my only child and I love him dearly, but wrong is wrong. Marriage is supposed to be a uniting of two people, not ownership.”
She got this hazed, distant, look in her eyes again and just started talking as if she needed to cleanse her soul. So I let her.
“I’m not trying to preach or judge you, Mia. Understand that. The good Lord knows what I have gone through with that husband of mine.”At that, she looked at me as if she had forgotten what great secret she was supposed to keep.
“Baby, you have so much to offer this world and I don’t want you to get caught up in thinking you somehow deserved to be beat, because you didn’t. I don’t know about Brice. I mean, we gave him everything when he was growing up. After all, he was our only child, and we doted on him. We knew there wouldn’t be any siblings for him. So . . . we spoiled him. Maybe that was wrong, but you’ll understand when you have children.You want them to have everything you were unable to have growing up.”
Vivica sighed, wrung her hands, rose and walked over to the maple dresser that stood near the wall. “Brice was always demanding, possessive, and he’s always had that temper. And I know my son has always loved women. I’m not blind to that fact, but as a mother we tend to overlook some things. Our children are always special in our eyes and can do no wrong.
“Yeah, I remember all those little girls who used to call here when he was in high school. Well, actually, it probably started when he was in middle school. These girls would call at all times of the night until we finally had to install his own phone line. I remember picking up the phone by accident one night and hearing this young girl crying her heart out over Brice. Apparently, she was no longer the flavor of the week, as the young kids say. She was begging, pleading with him not to break up with her. I can still hear the pain in her voice. I can still hear the things I heard my son say to that girl. A girl who had done nothing more than really like him.
“I recall coming home early one day from work because of a migraine headache. I used to suffer from them all the time. I found my son in his bedroom, sitting in a chair with his legs spread eagle, his drawers pulled down to his ankles, and this butt-naked girl, couldn’t have been more than fifteen, squatting between his legs sucking his . . . well you know. His head was thrown back in ecstasy as he touched her between her legs. I silently closed the door and never mentioned it to him. I don’t even know to this day if he saw me, because he never said anything to me about it. When they finished, they came downstairs as if nothing had happened upstairs. Brice kissed me on the cheek and said hello and the girl said, ‘Hello, Mrs. Matthew,’ and walked out the door.
“Over the years, girls came and went, and then when he grew into a man, women came and went. And I knew, I knew that my son didn’t respect women. It was just a fact.”
At that, Vivica turned and looked at me as if asking me to debate that fact. As if asking me to prove her wrong. I just looked back silently through tears.
“But then, Mia, when he met you, I thought that things had changed. I was so happy for him. I wanted him to experience real love at least once in his lifetime. He truly loves you, and I know that as a fact because I know my son. Mothers know. He doesn’t let himself form too many attachments, but he loves you and Christian. Now, Christian is another story. They formed a bond during childhood that is yet to be broken. They are like blood brothers. No, Brice, Christian also for that matter, does not let too many people into his circle.” She paused to catch her breath and continued on.
“Mia, I’m not trying to apologize for my son. I’m just trying to make you understand him or maybe make myself understand him and see how I failed him as a mother. His father was always so hard on him, constantly pushing him to be the best. Second place was never good enough, totally unacceptable. There are a lot of things that you don’t know about my husband. He’s a long way from perfect. We have to deal with what life throws our way. Good and bad. But I tried so hard with Brice.”
With that I looked up and stated, “Vivica, you can’t blame yourself for this happening. Brice is a grown man, responsible for his own actions. We all have choices. You either do what’s right or what’s wrong. You are so loving and sincere. You didn’t fail Brice.”
Vivica walked over and hugged me. When she saw that I was wincing, she released me.
“Baby, I can’t tell you what to do. I love my son, and I want the best for him. I think, no, I know, that you are good for him, but . . . I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Vivica, I love Brice too, but he scares me so much sometimes. He has that fiery temper, and he is so possessive and jealous of my every action. When he gets really mad, he simply reacts, and that usually involves hitting me. I can’t live like this. What am I going to do?” I cried as fresh tears ran down my bruised face.
Vivica just stared at me because she didn’t have an answer any more than I did.
“Baby, why don’t you come downstairs and get something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Mia, you should eat something. I’ve talked with Brice and he has calmed down. I don’t know what got into him.”
I was thinking,
Like father like son.
Vivica finally convinced me to come downstairs and at least watch TV. I walked slowly and stiffly down the stairs with Vivica, and my heart was racing, about to jump out of my chest, because I was afraid that Brice would freak out again. I found Brice, his dad and two older men downstairs at the kitchen table, drinking and playing cards. Brice didn’t even look up when I entered. Believe it or not, he was actually laughing and having a good time. It didn’t matter to him that he had beat the shit out of his wife a few hours earlier.