Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones: Shattered Fairy Tales Part 3


Reflections of A Woman’s Indiscretions

This book is dedicated to my mother Elena, grandmothers Josephine & Evril, & to all the Ladies in my life – Strong women I have seen Prevail no matter the circumstances or challenges.

Previously…

Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine JonesWithout any forethought or hesitation, I took my heel off and hurled it at him. He grabbed me and wrestled me onto the bed–putting his hand over my mouth to muffle my screams. I kicked him and he threw me off of the bed and onto the floor. That’s when I knew I had enough.I didn’t come all the way to Las Vegas to fight, or worse, go to jail. I separated myself away from him, and went into the bathroom to shower. I returned to find him passed out on the sofa.

The sun rose a few hours later and it was as if nothing ever happened. He woke up in a loving mood asking what I wanted to do for the day. I didn’t say a word about the night before; I let it go–I didn’t want another unnecessary argument. That last day was drama-free; we enjoyed a gondola ride at the Venetian Hotel. The day continued with more pictures, more cocktails, and more denial of our dysfunctional relationship.

~*~

The following Sunday was one of the most memorable and worst experiences I had with Slimm. This episode hurt a bit more than the ones prior because I became all to aware of my desperation for his love, which disturbed me. I was falling deeper into the pit. But it didn’t stop me from wanting to be with him.

Remember, prior to the demand of digital and cell phone cameras, when film had to be developed the old fashioned way? Well this brings me to the day I picked up my developed pictures from our trip to Las Vegas. I couldn’t wait to share those photos with Slimm! It was the following Sunday after our getaway and everything up until this point was perfect until, that is, I called him.

He was mean and short-tempered, acting like he had no time to spare for me.

       “Yeah, what’s up?” He answered sounding in a preoccupied tone.

       “Hey baby, I want to show you the pictures from Vegas! Where you at?” I replied

        “I’m busy right now. I’ll holla at you later.”

I didn’t say a word or push the issue because clearly it wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I remained silent as I sat in my car thinking how stupid I was. I knew that I didn’t have to put up with his mood swings and physical mistreatment, but I wasn’t strong enough or ready to fallback. Instead I’d fall deeper for him–I was a sucker for love.

After blowing me off, he chirped (called me) a little while later agreeing that he would meet me on Sanchez Drive which is up in the Hills. I knew, based on our conversation, that he was moody and irritable–but I just didn’t know why.

It couldn’t have been me since I haven’t seen him all day! Why would he even agree to meet me if he didn’t really want to see me? These were few of the thoughts that ran through my mind, including why was I subjecting myself to such bullshit? Even after I realized that he was in a funk, which he didn’t want me around, I still forced myself to be there and begged him to talk to me. I should’ve known when to leave certain situations alone–forcing myself on him would only worsen my circumstances.

Looking back I recognized how desperate I was to keep him around. Slimm would be a jerk for no reason at all, and I would beg him to tell me what I did to deserve his wrath. He provided no answers, but only threats of departure. And so, I foolishly and frequently begged him to stay in my life. At the time, I didn’t consider my value. It’s a sad thing when a woman doesn’t recognize her self-worth. Our relationship was out of control, but I was extremely needy and scared of being alone; he knew it and played on it. No wonder he felt that he could do as he please–-he knew I wasn’t going anywhere. It’s crazy how a girl’s confidence and self-esteem can shatter, based on another person’s love and approval. I was not a naïve teenager in love; I was a grown woman who allowed this man to do whatever he wanted with me– whether it be glorious or tragic.

He sat there silently glancing from one picture to the next. It was obvious that there was a lack of emotion. He didn’t say anything; it was weird. He was straight faced the entire time with a hint of evil in his eyes. Then his phone rang. He was secretive, sort of talking in a code that I was oblivious to; he was being so private that my curiosity peaked. I was itching to know who was on the other end of the phone.

With an attitude I said, “Who was that?

That’s all it took for his anger to go from 1 to 10 in two seconds flat. In so many words, he basically told me it was his business–and none of mine. The nerve of him! He didn’t even want my children’s father calling me, but he could talk to whomever, whenever, and do whatever pleases him. It was annoying and more frustrating for me. But again, I didn’t want to lose him, and so I put up with all of the extras.

My question to him created a scene that I will never forget as long as I live. He became so angry that I don’t even remember the words that were coming from his mouth. But what I do remember was the foul language and spit that was flying everywhere. That was the sign for me to bust a move–and I didn’t hesitate. With the quickness, I opened the passenger door and made a dash for my car which was parked across the street. I dashed fast–so fast that my shoe came off. But when I turned back to retrieve it, I was a second too late–he beat me to it.

He grabbed me, picked up my shoe and instantaneously began spanking me with it. I screamed, begging him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen; I was reduced to a child. I felt each and every slap and smack on my ass, thighs, and legs. I felt like a little girl receiving a beating from her father–but even little girls don’t get their little behinds beat like that.

It was senseless drama in broad daylight–in the middle of the street no less! I tried to pull away from his grip, but that only made his grip tighter and my beating longer–but I continued to fight. As I fought to escape his clutches, a family in a Lexus truck approached us and stopped his car.

The driver, who was a middle-aged man, lowered his window and told Slimm: “Aye man; back off! That’s a little lady you got there.

        “You better get the fuck outta here before I fuck you up!” Slimm responded.

Without any hesitation, the driver drove off–leaving me there to feel the wrath of Slimm.
Slimm was 6’6 and he carried himself like a thug; he was always strapped (armed). He knew how to intimidate people which was a fact. But “on low key”, I was attracted to it initially. A feared man was a turn on, but I didn’t expect myself to be feared by him too. However, this wasn’t the first time that I saw him use intimidation to scare people away.

On one particular night, Slimm and I were driving home from LAX when a SUV pulled up on the side of us. Everything was calm.  The streets were ghost (empty) and I didn’t know what sparked the confrontation between Slimm and the driver in the SUV–but they exchanged words; talking shit to each other. But their heated exchange of words wasn’t enough for Slimm and so he took it to a step further: he pulled out his gun, holding and extending it with his right hand, and pointed it at the guy’s face! That dude did not pause to bust a right turn onto Century Blvd, when he saw the barrel of Slimm’s gun. I remembered sitting there, stuck on stupid, asking myself as to what just happened. I thought to myself: “What if that dude pulled out his gun and used it on us?” That’s when I became conscious of his enjoyment of instilling fear in people; there was definitely a pattern to Slimm’s behavior. In that moment I just sat in the passenger seat thanking God that it hadn’t turned that serious.

After I got my butt whooped, I was more humiliated than ever. I sat in my car, welted and bruised up, asking myself why I would let him continue to hurt me. I was confused–emotionally and mentally. I knew I didn’t deserve his abuses, so “why did I take it?!” The bullshit in a dysfunctional relationship like this one can be detrimental to a woman’s health and well-being. Again, “Love” has the power to flourish with beauty or burn one’s house to the ground.

No, I didn’t deserve the abuse; I was a good girlfriend. My problem was belittling myself for allowing him to continue to shame and disrespect me. It was crazy too! One minute I’d be fierce thinking I can do bad all by myself; I don’t need this or him! Then the next minute I will be feeble and weak. But my thoughts of strength that day (when he spanked me), were like many days: short-lived. Because the next thing I knew, I totally agreed to meet him later at his aunt’s house, where he will be temporarily staying; because he was at odds with his grandmother.

As soon as he called, I went running. I knew it was wrong, but I went anyway. And when he saw me that night, he apologized. He babied me, rubbed my feet, and loved me the way he use to; I forgave him for everything. It was as if I was under his spell. I was in a trance and I couldn’t break it.

STAY TUNED NEXT WEEK TO READ THE NEXT STORY OF SHARINE’S UPCOMING AUTOBIOGRAPHY “REFLECTIONS OF A WOMAN’S INDISCRETIONS”

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO SHARINE JONES

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