Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [75]
John walked in holding Nisa, who was hidden within the folds of her blanket. When their eyes met, Rhonda stood and extended her arms to receive her baby. John backed away from her. She sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the room, facing her. Rhonda diverted her eyes momentarily to make sure Mildred wasn’t getting ready to attack her from behind. Mildred always got bolder and more aggressive when John was around. When she turned back to face John, she noticed a young woman standing in the doorway, holding the baby’s bag. The room was still and silent. Each second seemed to take an hour to pass. Rhonda calmly returned her gaze to John.
“Can I please have my baby?”
John ignored her. He began to unwrap the blanket from around the baby. Rhonda could hear her heart pounding in her head. She could feel it pounding in her feet. The blanket was one that Nett had crocheted for Damon five years earlier.
Finally John looked over at Rhonda. He began to shout obscenities at her, telling her what he would and would not do.
Rhonda remained calm. The voice guided her: Do not panic. You will be told what to say. Speak your words with power and authority. When Rhonda spoke, she felt the calmness beginning to dissipate.
“Please, John. Give me the baby. Let me hold her. I’m not going anywhere with her.” Too many words, too fast. It sounded like the plea of an anguished mother crying out for her child. John was not moved. Mildred was.
“Give her the baby, Johnnie,” she ordered. “Don’t be stupid.” The baby was now fully exposed. John clutched Nisa to his chest and raised his voice.
“You don’t know her. She’s crazy. Don’t tell me what to do! I ain’t givin’ that b——my baby!” The voice guided. Be still! Suddenly, John jumped to his feet and lunged at Rhonda, screaming, “Who you lookin’ at? Who are you lookin’ at?”
Rhonda didn’t move. She was praying. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil …”
John was trying to frighten her, to make her cower and cry. It was a tactic that had always worked. Until today. Rhonda was willing to do whatever it took to get her baby from the man who was holding her. He wasn’t John any longer. He wasn’t the man who had beaten Rhonda when she was pregnant with the very baby he now clutched to his chest. No longer was he six feet two inches tall. He was no longer a monster. He was a frightened little six-year-old boy who was insisting on having his way. Rhonda could see it in his eyes. She heard it in his words, and she was not going to terrorize a frightened child. She sat down and looked at the young woman, who was still standing in the doorway.
Rhonda didn’t remember who spoke first, but she remembered the conversation. Rhonda had done so many things to make John beat her, he said. John had lied about getting the apartment, she said. Rhonda had called the police on him, and they went to his job and embarrassed him. Her mother was always nasty to him. His mother was nasty to her. When it seemed they were getting nowhere, Mildred jumped up from the sofa, ripped her wig off her head, and threw it on the floor.
“I am sick of this s——! Give her that damn baby so she can get the hell out of my house!”
When Mildred’s dog saw the wig slide across the middle of the floor, he attacked it. He grabbed it between his teeth and wrestled it across the room.
“Johnnie, get my wig from that dog. I’ve got to wear it to work tomorrow.”
John tried to take the wig away from the dog. The dog could not be persuaded. Still holding