Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [65]
I could see clearly that Rhonda was living her own interpretation of what she had been taught by Grandma and Daddy. It was a pattern that had emerged in her childhood. She was young, wounded, and confused. Wounds and confusion beget wounds and confusion. Abuse and betrayal beget abuse and betrayal. Rhonda was attracting what she was because she had no idea that anything else existed. She had a pattern of running from what was without a clear understanding of what could be. I wanted to sing for her. I wanted to open my mouth and sing along with a chorus of weeping willow and poplar trees, blooming chrysanthemums and begonias. I wanted to sing a song for the abused, abandoned, confused little girl who was crying in my soul. The song that came to mind was Patti LaBelle’s “Somebody Loves You, Baby.” I was afraid that someone would wander up the trail and hear me, so I hummed as I turned around and headed back toward home.
It was an annual ritual that Rhonda and the children had been looking forward to all week. It was Sunday. Cartoons and pancakes for the children. Coffee and girl talk for Rhonda and Nett. It was also Nett’s birthday, so all of them bore presents under their arms. The children had made their own cards. Rhonda had saved for months to buy Nett her favorite perfume and two books that Nett had threatened to buy for herself. Rhonda was sure that she had beaten Nett to the bookstore. She was excited about that, and she was excited that she could drive up to Nett’s house in the car Daddy had given her for her birthday. Rhonda was also glad to have a few hours away from John, who had been in a foul mood all week.
She was in front of Nett’s apartment building, trying to lock the car door, when she looked up and saw John approaching her.
“Give me the keys,” John said. Rhonda was sure it was a demand.
“For what?” she asked. John didn’t like the tone of her voice, nor did he like the fact that she was questioning him.
“What do you mean ‘for what’? Because I asked for them, that’s for what. I’ve got to go by my mother’s, too.” Rhonda knew that John’s mood had not improved.
“I’ll only be here for a few hours. I’ll drop you off when I’m done here.”
“Look b——h, give me the keys!” John had never spoken to her like that before, and she did not quite know how to take it. She locked the car door and turned to walk away, ordering the children to hurry up.
“You’d better not walk away from me.” John was walking directly behind her. Something just didn’t feel right. Rhonda turned to face him, prepared to ask what was wrong with him. Had she been facing him all along, she would have seen it coming. His hand reaching back, then coming forward against her face. Had she not turned around, he would have hit her in the head, but it might not have hurt as much.
When John pulled Rhonda up from the ground, she didn’t realize he was trying to help her, so she started screaming. Rhonda didn’t realize that John was trying to kiss her, so she pushed him away, gathered the children, and ran before he could hit her again.
When Nett saw her face, she was furious. John knocked on the door, and Nett informed him that he was never again welcome in her house. After the door was slammed in his face, Rhonda and Nett stood with their ears plastered against it, trying to detect if he was really gone. When the telephone rang, they almost jumped out of their skins.
“I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I will never do that again. I’m sorry. Do you believe me? Please believe me,” John sounded desperate.
“I’ll talk to you later” was the only thing Rhonda could say. The second call was an insincere attempt at begging. By the fifth call, John sounded as if he were crying. Two hours into the calling marathon, Rhonda didn’t care that he was crying, she just wanted him to stop calling.
The children each told Nana how their daddy had hit their mommy, then