Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones: The End of Chapter of 4, The End of Shattered Fairy Tales


 “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 JonesHis voice was deep, loud, and distinct. I heard him ask Faith saying, “Where Sharine at?!”

Lying her ass off, she answered, “I don’t know, but she’s not here.”

Apparently he knew better because he must have walked through the parking lot and saw my car there.

“Don’t lie, Faith! I just want to talk to her,” I heard him say.

Before Faith could answer him, I heard another voice: a man. It was another neighbor and Faith’s long time family friend, Desmond. Evidently, Desmond heard what was going on; he wanted to make sure that everything was good with Faith, considering he didn’t know Slimm.

I heard Desmond ask, “What’s the problem?”

Slimm responded aggressively, “There is no problem!”

“There must be a problem,” Desmond answered with confidence.

I could hear the tension and hostility that were building inside the two men’s voices; I peeked out the window to only see Faith standing between the two of them. Then the inevitable happened, Slimm pulled his gun on Desmond!

~*~

Finding her words, Faith nervously replies: “Slimm, come on! What are you doing?! Put that shit away!”

Desmond was staggered. “It’s not that serious; and I don’t want any problems. I’m just trying to protect where I lay my head,” he said

Faith then hastily used her body as a shield to protect Desmond by standing in front him; she knew Slimm wouldn’t harm her. Desmond then turned around and walked slowly up the stairs– back into his apartment with Faith following behind him. I was relieved to know that Desmond and Faith made it to their rooms safely with no bullet holes to their bodies–more so, I was pleased to see Slimm gone. But, in less than five minutes, Faith’s phone rang and it was him again–this time venting out (on speaker phone) to Faith about what transpired between him and Desmond.

Instead of hearing him apologize for his disrespectful behavior, I heard him say that he was two blocks away (at 49th Street School) waiting for Desmond to meet him there.

Faith dismissed his words saying, “Slimm! No one wants any issues! Just go on home!

He rebuked with a threat,

“That nigga don’t know me! I should come back and blow his head off!”

Faith allowed him to vent his anger–in hopes of him calming down. Finally his rant ended and the conversation was over.

I sat there helplessly for a while thinking on how I got myself into this ordeal. I knew then it would be a difficult task to remove this man from my life, especially since I was going to live with him; I felt stuck between a fence and a brick wall. I knew what needed to be done, but I wasn’t yet brave or ready. To top it off, I put my friend in danger. Slimm was not only intimidating me, but my loved ones too. Faith confided with me later that she shared “the gun incident” with her boyfriend—and he advised that I should stay away from Slimm. He said that it would only be a matter of time before he pointed his gun at me.

The next morning, when I was leaving for work, Blu’s mother was waiting for me; she wanted to tell me that I had to move. She went on to say that she will not allow of what happened the night before to occur again. Although my in-laws were nowhere to be seen that night, they saw and heard everything. I now had a couple of days to pack my things and be gone. But, I mean, could I blame her? Hell no! Slimm put innocent people in danger–and for no reason at all! I wasn’t going to argue with her about it. The apartment building was her property and what he did was unacceptable. I told her that I understood and went off to work.

I was so angry! I couldn’t hold back my tears. He was making everything in my life harder than it needed to be. And what was he doing for me? Besides stressing me out! Slowly, I was getting tired of him and his ignorant behavior. On my way to work, I called him to ask about the status of my apartment. Also, I wanted him to be aware that I had a couple of days to move, thanks to his reckless behavior.

When he responded, his voice was so calm and warm—the complete opposite from the night before.

“I’ll find out for you and I’ll let you know,” he said.

He did not respond to what I told him in regards to his reckless behavior. Nor did he take responsibility for the incident. Once again, he swept it under the rug and I ultimately left it there.

Reflecting back, I can’t believe how I thought my life with him would be a fairy tale. It might have started out that way, but it was turning into a horror story. There was nothing enchanting or magical about our relationship. I was unhappily aware that my Prince Charming was a fraud; I just didn’t want to accept it.

THIS IS THE END OF SATURDAY BOOK READ W/ SHARINE JONES. THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND SHARING HER STORIES WITH FRIENDS AND FAMILY.

EVEN THOUGH SHARINE AND PRINCE ARE SADDENED BY THIS DECISION, THEY ARE OPTIMISTIC OF THE INTENSIVE WORK THAT THEY WILL BE INPUTTING IN TO MAKE  “REFLECTIONS OF A WOMAN’S INDISCRETIONS”  A PRINTED NOVEL! IN THE MEANTIME PLEASE REVISIT SHARINE’S PREVIOUS STORIES AND SHARE THEM WITH FRIENDS FAMILY.

WE ARE PLANNING TO PUBLISH THIS BOOK BEFORE THE END OF 2014!
ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED TO SHARINE JONES

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Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones: Shattered Fairy Tales Part 4


“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 Jones

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.

~*~

Summer was in full effect; the kids were out of school and now in day camp.Not only was I busy with my son Jordan’s basketball and baseball season, but I was still looking for an apartment. On one Saturday afternoon, when my kids and I were leaving Jordan’s baseball game, Slimm chirped me:  “Baby, I found you a spot.

His family owned a building where the apartment was located; he was helping to clean the vacant apartment and asked if it was available. Surprisingly, it was! And it could be ready in the next two weeks! I didn’t believe him at first, so I had to see it for myself. Nothing came easy for me, so it was a shock for me when he did chirp with the good news. Once I saw the apartment I was more than ready to move in. My current living arrangements were finally coming to an end. I appreciated the hospitality that Faith and her mother provided, but I missed having my own home which I could share it with my kids. It had only been six months, but it felt like years had flown by.

The apartment was charming; it had one bedroom, one bath, and a loft area, which I was going to hook up for the kids [because I’m creative like that!]. However, the kitchen was my favorite room. It was perfect! It had a panel of windows that showed the beauty of Los Angeles. Another plus was that Blu’s apartment was down the hill from my kids’ school which was about five minutes away – it was ideal! What wasn’t ideal was that I was moving into the housing property of Slimm’s people. And I also made a conscious decision to move-in with me and my kids.

Stupid, I know! Reflecting back, I think I must’ve been out of my mind because this was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. The reality was we were both in similar situations; he was sleeping on his aunt’s sofa and I needed an apartment. The agreement was we would split the rent and the cost of utilities. To this day, I don’t know why I didn’t think critically about this situation. Deep in my heart I knew it was the wrong thing to do for obvious reasons: first was the fact that I was still legally married to another man; second, my kids weren’t exactly receptive to Slimm although they were polite and respectful; and third, our relationship was a wreck. Why I thought it would be different, once we did move-in together, was beyond my comprehension. Secretly within my own heart, I thought he would change; and I also hoped for the best. I believed we could make it if we tried. I also thought he would appreciate the family life and alter his behavior for the better. I’m mad at myself for being so foolish and selfish–allowing him to live under the same roof with my kids after we spent six months apart in separate homes. I was a fool for thinking with my own heart instead of my head. In this case I deserved an ass whoopin’.

The apartment wouldn’t be ready for us to move-in for another two weeks, due to repairs and upgrades. Within that timeframe I informed everybody, who was important in my life, about my plans to move in with Slimm. And I was not surprised by the overwhelming number of negative responses from my action.

Blu was against the idea, but what could he do? I was not a good listener; I was stubborn and I always knew what was best for me. No wonder my life was always so challenging. My sister and girlfriends loved that I found an apartment, but they weren’t feeling my living arrangements–specifically Slimm as my roommate. They knew the business –Slimm and I were always arguing and fighting – but they also knew that I was going to do what I wanted despite their objections. So they didn’t bother to try to talk me out of it. My cousin Shannon was the one who was like, “You crazy, cuz!” Her words, from that day forward, stuck with me. But I disregarded it–pretending not to care.

One week prior to my move, Slimm did some ignorant shit: “He was on one” (angry) because I was late meeting him at someplace. For one I was busy helping my kids with their homework, which I was at the library for two hours, and I was tired from being at work all day. So I was not in the mood for his tantrum. After my kids were taken care of, I then headed straight to Faith’s house to call it a night. But, all the while, he was blowing up my phone–which I kept ignoring of course.

I finally made it to the Faith’s place, which I pulled my car into the back parking lot and walked inside. Tamela, Faith’s mom, was home and Faith was upstairs at her neighbor’s apartment. So I went upstairs to join her; so I could fill her in about the latest drama in my life.

Immediately I told Faith, “If Slimm calls, tell him I’m not here!

She understood my drama, and agreed to saying, “Girl, don’t worry. I’ll let him know.

Surprisingly, Slimm didn’t call me at all. But what surprised me even more was his unexpected visit to Blu’s family’s housing property–like he just popped up out of nowhere. I was frightened by his bold choice–“Why would he come here?!” He’s never been as audacious to step foot on the Eastside of LA, especially where Blu’s family lived. To make matters worse he had balls to approach Faith’s front door–banging on it like he was the police. Let me just say that if Tamela had to answer her door, she would’ve roasted his ass–and that’s just putting it mildly. Knowing what Faith’s mother was capable of, she quickly ran down the stairs in an attempt to make him leave. While Faith was confronting the Big Bad Wolf downstairs, I hid inside a bedroom. Even though I was upstairs, I could still hear their conversation–especially Slimm’s mouth.

His voice was deep, loud, and distinct. I heard him ask Faith saying, “Where Sharine at?!

Lying her ass off, she answered, “I don’t know, but she’s not here.

Apparently he knew better because he must have walked through the parking lot and saw my car there.

Don’t lie, Faith! I just want to talk to her,” I heard him say.

Before Faith could answer him, I heard another voice: a man. It was another neighbor and Faith’s long time family friend, Desmond. Evidently, Desmond heard what was going on; he wanted to make sure that everything was good with Faith, considering he didn’t know Slimm.

I heard Desmond ask, “What’s the problem?

Slimm responded aggressively, “There is no problem!

There must be a problem,” Desmond answered with confidence.

I could hear the tension and hostility that were building inside the two men’s voices; I peeked out the window to only see Faith standing between the two of them. Then the inevitable happened, Slimm pulled his gun on Desmond!

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

ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED TO SHARINE JONES. 

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Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones: The Beginning of Chapter 3–Confused and Delusional


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….

20131102-145624.jpgWhat seemed like hours, being locked away in a trunk, were only minutes; he released me right after my freakishly deafening cries [which I assumed was the reason he let me out]. Once I got out he said this to me,

“I’m not fucking with you.”

This was his way of stabbing me without actually doing it. He wanted to hurt me by any means necessary and proved it again by holding a bat in his hand–attempting to terrorize, hurt or do both.

I drove to Faith’s house in tears–only to be mad at myself. I knew I had to leave him, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. My thoughts bombarded me:

“Did I really love him more than I loved myself?”;“Why else would I settle for this type of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde behavior?”; “Why didn’t I just walk away and call it quits?”

I didn’t know the answers; I just knew I loved him. After each episode, I’d think of the good times we shared, and I’d give in and call him–and he’d be waiting for that call. It was a mutual addiction. A week later we started where we left off: in a ghetto love affair.

~*~

Chapter 3

Confused & Delusional

The New Year was here and I was overwhelmed with joy. I just started my new position as an administrative assistant for an advertising agency and things were looking up. Slimm and I were still going strong with our “break-up-to-make-up” routine, but he would always find something to argue about; and this time he was on my case about divorce.

Although my marriage to Blu was a disaster, he was the father of my kids; and I still had love for him. Furthermore, if I was going to file for a divorce, it would be when I was ready! And the bullying antics weren’t going to make me move any faster, which elevated Slimm’s frustration with me.

This is me; I don’t like to be told what to do! I don’t like to be forced into doing anything I don’t want to do; and I tend to rebel when I’m being controlled. Pressuring me about a divorce only made me think twice – I wasn’t sure if I was ready to divorce Blu. I mean, I hated my marriage and I wanted out. But now that the time was here to file for divorce, I could not bring myself to do it [I think it was God’s way of advising me to not do it]. For once I listened to the little voice in my head, even though Slimm kept insisting on the legalities. I wanted to be sure, so I took my time with this decision – that’s what I knew. I also knew my choices weren’t always the best because I was impulsive. I didn’t think things through and I didn’t want this to be another momentous mistake. I wasn’t angry with him because he urged me to get a divorce [we were in a relationship after all], it was the tactics that he used, to handle the situation, which made me furious. Those were my thoughts on the subject, but expressing them to Slimm would’ve made him “bust a nutty,” [a term used to describe one’s temperamental rage] so I kept my feelings on the subject to myself.

I know it sounds like I was trying to eat the whole cake but what would you do if you had a husband and a boyfriend without one of them trippin’ about the other at some point and time? I don’t know? I wanted to be with Slimm, and trust me when I say that I wasn’t trying to keep Blu in my back pocket for a rainy day. But I knew something was holding me back from moving forward with a divorce. I knew Slimm wasn’t the same person I fell in love with, and yet I still loved him. How I perceived it was Slimm flipped the script on me as soon as I separated from Blu. Therefore, I could only imagine what he would be like once I divorce Blu. That’s how I was thinking back then. I was just a confused mess. All I knew for certain was that it wasn’t time to file for a divorce.

Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones: The End of Ch. 2–Mutual Addiction


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…

20131102-145624.jpgFor the remainder of the night I cried profusely–mostly trying to make sense out of nonsense. And when I awoke on the next day, my lip was black and blue; cut up; and swollen–this is what I looked like for my daughter’s 5th birthday celebration. I was hideous. I don’t even remember what I told my kids. Pathetic. I didn’t stay angry at Slimm, or away from Slimm. This was the self-inflicted pain of an addict.

~*~

December 2004

As the arrival of December came, I received a new position as an administrative assistant through a temp agency; and my kids began a new life at a new school and with new friends. But I was growing restless and lonely in Moreno Valley; not once had Slimm come to visit me. And I drove to L.A. on Fridays and back to Moreno Valley on Sundays religiously like a damn fool.

I began to see things for what they truly were. For example, when the kids had their parent teacher conferences and award ceremonies, I would go to them like I always had before, but this time I would do it alone–without Blu. It didn’t make any sense on why I would block the father of my children; Blu was a constant factor in our children’s lives. Why was I making it harder on myself? And possibly, on my kids? Furthermore, the distance from L.A. was starting to take a toll on me; I hated the drive! When I thought about it, I asked myself who was really benefiting from these living arrangements? And it was one individual, of course: Slimm. There was no telling what Slimm was up to, but it boiled down to one factor: he wanted to isolate me from Blu; which made him feel secure and in control. So that’s when I made my decision to move back to L.A.

I love city life and I always will–plus my kids needed their father. I got them re-enrolled to their original elementary school and our living arrangements were this: the kids lived with their dad since their school was less than a block away from his apartment and I would stay with Faith until I found a place of my own – six months, tops.
Reflecting back, many of my arguments with Slimm were centered around Blu; he didn’t want me in Blu’s apartment. So everyday after work I would take my kids to the library to complete their homework and brush my daughter’s hair in my car, rather than in Blu’s home, where my kids stayed. But what really stunned me was that he would have a hissy fit everytime I gave Blu my cell number and a chirp [FYI: A lingo for a call on Nextel phones back in 2004]–A major warning sign that I chose to ignore. How did he NOT expect me to be in contact with Blu?–the father of my children. I didn’t understand his way of thinking: Was he really this ignorant? Or was his insecurities that bad? Come to find out, it was both. He didn’t have kids and didn’t understand the relationship needed between two functioning parents. And if he could keep Blu at a far distance he’d feel secure and in control. He demanded power over me, which I allowed him to have.

Christmas Eve 2004

Christmas Eve is here; the most wonderful time of the year. A day of peace and love. However, this particular Christmas Eve would soon turn out to be the complete opposite–a day of war and hate.

The idea of spending the holidays with Slimm made me smile; this was going to be our first Christmas together. He arranged for a lavish hotel suite with all the fine trimmings. [I could even tell by the way he spoke to me]. I was hyped for the day to come and when it finally did he made it a point to treat me like an annoyance to him.

Our conversation over the phone was dry and short. His disposition towards me was cold; I once again cried uncontrollably, but on Faith’s bed. I had no idea what was going on. I begged him to talk to me, I wanted to know what the problem was, but the more I tried, the more irritated he became with me. I remember him saying to me in a callous tone,

“Sharine, you’re making a fool of yourself!”

Feeling embarrassed, pitiful, and foolish, I hung up the phone. With each passing moment, I was exposing myself to more hurt. I suppose it didn’t take much energy to treat me badly.

My confidence was diminishing; my self-esteem was dwindling; and I was constantly second-guessing myself: “Why is he mad?”;“Did I do something wrong?”;“And what was it?” I’m sure he knew how needy and weak I was, which is why he took each and every episode to another level. The day continued and I hadn’t heard from him.

Around 6 pm that evening I chirped his phone to see what was up–what the plans were. Of course, he didn’t hesitate to make me wait–responding back some time later with, “I’m busy.” I was heated. He was treating me like I was nothing–like I was of no significance. I sat in my car for a few minutes thinking of the mental games he was playing, but I had to shake them off. It was time to visit my kids where I should’ve been from the start. I pulled up to Blu’s apartment; turned off my phone; threw it on the passenger seat; and went upstairs.

We had a great time! We ate dinner; watched movies; and opened presents–we were happy and cozy. I missed our family life, and I found myself wishing it would be like this all the time; it made me sad. Why couldn’t it be like this when I was with Blu? I dismissed the thought because it would only break my heart even more. I put my kids to sleep [ ready for Christmas morning!]; kissed them goodnight; and headed out the door. I walked out to my car cautiously, looking around for any sign of Slimm; he was nowhere in sight. But he was sneaky like that though. [He often rolled around trying to spot my car and would be mad if he did.] Once I got inside my car safely I realized that I needed gas. So I headed to Arco gas station on La Cienega; but not before turning on my phone to see that I had a thousand missed calls and chirps from Slimm.

I couldn’t believe this guy! He didn’t want to talk to me earlier, but now he expects me to answer his chirp on the fly? In my frustration, I decided to do the same thing that he did to me: I ignored his ass. I was so tired and not in the mood to deal with his insecurities.

After filling up my tank, I jumped in my car and went East on Rodeo Road. I just crossed over La Cienega when Slimm, out of nowhere, cut me off in the middle of the street. The streets were vacant, which would explain his bold move. He was driving a rental–a large sedan-type vehicle–which he used to block my car from proceeding forward. He quickly jumped out of the car and walked briskly toward my driver window; my window was rolled up. Sternly he said,

“Lower your muthafuckin’ window, before I break it!”

I quickly lowered it and sat there scared beyond scared. Spit once again was flying all over my face,

“Why the fuck you didn’t chirp me back? Where the fuck you been?”

I answered him truthfully with a touch of attitude, “At Blu’s house–visiting my kids on Christmas Eve!”

I can tell in his eyes that he wanted to slap the shit out of me. He told me to follow him down the street, I was hesitant, but he was adamant.

“I’ll go if you promise not to hit me,” I said.

The words just came out with no thought. I sounded like one of those women that I promised I would never become: a weak woman–with inferior standards and a lack of worth. I was ashamed of myself. Is this what love was supposed to be? To have you feel ashamed of yourself? No, not at all! But I was losing myself in him.

I followed him a few blocks; made a left turn onto a silent residential street; and proceeded to park.

“Get out. I wanna talk to you!” he shouted.

Timidly I followed his instructions. With my back against my car door he bent down to get in my face [I’m 5’0 tall and he’s 6’6, so he had to bend down to look me in my eyes].

“Why the fuck you gotta be all up in that nigga’s apartment?”

I answered furiously, “What part of ‘my kids are there’ don’t you understand?!”

Then he did the unthinkable. He grabbed my arm with his bare hand, pulled me towards his rental, and without a second thought threw me into the trunk, and slammed the door on top of me.

It went pitch-black. Instantly I began to scream and I cried hysterically. All kind of crazy thoughts started to run through my head. I didn’t know what to expect. Was he going to set me on fire? Bury me alive? Kidnap and kill me? My thoughts were never ending. Although they sickened me, the truth was I had no idea where this man’s mind was going; so I thought the worse.

What seemed like hours, being locked away in a trunk, were only minutes; he released me right after my freakishly deafening cries [which I assumed was the reason he let me out]. Once I got out he said this to me,

“I’m not fucking with you.”

This was his way of stabbing me without actually doing it. He wanted to hurt me by any means necessary and proved it again by holding a bat in his hand–attempting to terrorize, hurt or do both.

I drove to Faith’s house in tears–only to be mad at myself. I knew I had to leave him, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. My thoughts bombarded me:

“Did I really love him more than I loved myself?”;“Why else would I settle for this type of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde behavior?”; “Why didn’t I just walk away and call it quits?”

I didn’t know the answers; I just knew I loved him. After each episode, I’d think of the good times we shared, and I’d give in and call him–and he’d be waiting for that call. It was a mutual addiction. A week later we started where we left off: in a ghetto love affair.

STAY TUNED NEXT WEEK TO READ NEXT PAGE OF SHARINE’S CHILLING BOOK SERIES

Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones: Ch. 2 Mutual Addiction (continued)


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….

20131102-145624.jpgHe threw me around the room; tore the clothes off my body; and choked me out. I fell to the floor and I felt my body go limp; breathing became difficult–he must have noticed because he took a break from his rampage. Assuming that he was trying to regain his energy for round two, which I was not up for, I took the opportunity to sprint to the bathroom and locked myself in.

I found a corner on the bathroom floor near the shower; I brought my knees up to my chest, burying my face; and I cried uncontrollably. My heart was beating rapidly as though it was going to explode inside my chest. Just to think that three hours earlier I was consumed in his happiness, but now at this moment I was frightened for my life. I tried to calm myself, wondering how I was ever going to get out of this room, nonetheless the bathroom, alive.

~*~

A few minutes went by, then he started banging on the door threatening to throw my possessions away if I didn’t come out. Tauntingly he added,

“The shit you bought with my money, I’m taking back. You didn’t deserve it anyway.”

I sat there silently, refusing to respond. Every few minutes he would return to torment me:

“You gotta come out sooner or later and I’ll be here waiting!”

I sat in silence [“like, what the fuck?!”]. My head was spinning, and I couldn’t believe I was stuck sitting on the bathroom floor for two hours, half-naked. My mind began to work–thinking of ways to escape without coming in contact with him–and that’s when I remembered: the room’s front door and bathroom door were adjacent to each other. I figured that it would be easy enough to get out and run. I knew that if I didn’t make a move right now, I would be trapped all night. But first I had to grab my purse and clothes [I wasn’t trying to leave anything behind because I knew I wouldn’t see them again].

I stood up slowly, unlocking the door making minimal noise as possible. As I pushed the door open I peeked out and noticed that he was sitting on the bed; watching television like nothing happened. I looked over for my things and I found them sitting on the floor beside the dresser. It was now or never. I made a quick dash for it, grabbing my belongings and hurried back to the front door. I was relieved when I made it to the door but without warning he grabbed my bags and started dragging me back–dragging me back to Hell. I turned around to face him, with my back to the door, and we pulled on the bags like it was a game of tug of war–in this case Life or Death. Finally I made it out of the room, but I was still fighting with him for my things–still half naked. In desperation, I screamed,

“Help! Somebody, help me!” hoping to grab anyone’s attention.

My cry for help worked and suddenly he let go of his tight grip; I fell back against the wall and flat on my ass. Half-naked and without a second thought, I ran quickly down the hall to the stairs and looked back over my shoulder to see if he was behind me; he was out of sight. As soon as I made it safely to my car, I then zoomed straight to my girlfriend Faith’s house.

*Faith was Blu’s cousin. She lived in the apartment building that Blu’s parents’ owned–she actually lived next door to my in-laws. We became close right after I gave birth to my son. At this point we had been friends for eight years and I knew I could trust her. Even though she was Blu’s cousin, she was loyal to me. And to this day I still appreciate her and the friendship that we have today.

Once I made it to Faith’s place, I was embarrassed knowing that she would see me like this. And once she saw me, she already knew what happened to me–especially with my face all beaten up. She was so pissed when she saw me; but I still would not leave Slimm. So what could she say to make a difference?

For the remainder of the night I cried profusely–mostly trying to make sense out of nonsense. And when I awoke on the next day, my lip was black and blue; cut up; and swollen–this is what I looked like for my daughter’s 5th birthday celebration. I was hideous. I don’t even remember what I told my kids. Pathetic. I didn’t stay angry at Slimm, or away from Slimm. This was the self-inflicted pain of an addict.

STAY TUNED NEXT WEEK FOR THE NEXT PAGE OF SHARINE’S CHILLING NEW BOOK SERIES

 

Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones: Chapter 2 Mutual Addiction


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.

20131102-145624.jpgPreviously…..

Chapter 2

Mutual Addiction

Over the next few weeks, our arguments and disagreements with each other would only get worse. And it was during this time that I did not care what he would do to me; because I would always find my way back to him. It did not matter if he had a new reason to blame me or fault me for anything; and it did not matter if he used excessive physical force to get his point across (using me as his punching bag whenever he felt like venting his anger)–I still wanted to be his girl! There were times that he would threaten to leave me and I would get down on my knees, crying to him–begging to him– to stay; and he did. And there were times that he would be just plain mean, cold, and distant towards me; but I took it. He was worth any exertion of hurtful emotions I felt; and he was worth any risk of Indiscretions I have made in the past. He was my drug.

I was addicted to him, to us, and he was too. We could have made our lives easier, by leaving each other alone, but we didn’t. Instead, we would go back and forth, arguing and fighting with each other. But as always, in the end, we would eventually talk and make up. It was a cycle; a pattern – a mutual addiction.

~*~

This pattern of addiction is the reason why I am sharing these memories with you. These memories are some that are still living vividly in my mind. These are the memories that have deprived me of my self-respect, and have humiliated me the most. November 2004 happened to be one of many Indiscretions of that pattern.

November 2004

Today is Saturday, the weekend of my beautiful daughter’s (Amy), 5th birthday. The kids were spending the weekend with their dad, Blu, while I was planning to pick them up early Sunday to celebrate her birthday with dinner and a movie. Saturday started out great, and Slimm and I were back together again. Today he surprised me with some money and told me to go out and get my hair and nails done; and I did just that. I first went to the spa for my mani and pedi, then I thought to myself, “since my hair is already bangin’ I’ll keep the rest for myself.” I remembered Blu crossed my mind that day, because this was something he rarely did for me–Blu was never attentive to my basic needs. So when I saw Slimm doing these little things for me, I was very appreciative of his generous gesture.

Once I got done, getting fancy for my man, I went out to see him; everything was perfect! [I can still remember listening to Marvin Gaye’s “Distant Lover,” playing on the radio, as I pulled up to meet him.] When I pulled up on the block, he had a wide grin on his face–he was in good spirits and I was truly elated. Crossing the street with his long strides, he walked towards me, stopped at my driver’s window, bent down, and kissed my lips–and boy did the back of my hair stand up; just one touch as NeYo would say. He was being so sweet today–and he complimented my mani and pedi.

Politely he handed me an additional $200 and said in his deep sultry voice, “Here baby, go get you an outfit.” I didn’t ask any questions. I gladly accepted the money and was happy to go spend it.

[For the record, I am by no means a “Gold Digger!” I love people genuinely for who they are – not for their money or material wealth. The way I see it, a man with money is a plus; not a necessity. My family, originally from Belize, came to the United States in their teens and worked hard to achieve success. That’s what I knew. After my parents separated, my mother was a single mom who worked her ass off to give us what she could–with the exception of child support from my dad. She didn’t take hand-outs, gifts, or the like from men. I also saw my dad work multiple jobs at once to provide a better life for him and his family. I was taught from birth that if you want something in life, make it happen for yourself. I wasn’t going to ride on anyone’s coattails or beg for shit–and I still haven’t. Slimm was by no means a baller, but he did get his hustle on. He always had money in his pockets, and I didn’t ask questions because it was none of my business. He had his money and I had mine, but when I needed extra cash he looked out for me – as he should, because he was my man. But he was also a gentleman. When we went out, he took care of everything–and he was always taking care of me. Whether it was filling up my gas tank; feeding me good food; buying an outfit here or there; or simply giving me extra cash for miscellaneous items, he looked out for me and I appreciated everything he did for me.]

So we kissed goodbye that day and agreed to meet up at the hotel room later that evening.

I went to the mall and set out my quest for some cute boots. Since shopping can easily consume one’s attention, I put my cell phone on vibrate and stuck it in my back pocket. With all the activity that goes on in a mall, I did not want to miss any calls–and I especially did not want to miss Slimm’s calls. I knew for sure that I would feel any vibrations from my phone. So if anyone was trying to reach me, I would feel it.

Time flew by and I was in my zone. After a couple hours of shopping, I realized that my phone hadn’t vibrated at all. So when I stopped and looked at my screen, I noticed that Slimm had chirped me over a dozen times! [FYI: “Chirp” was a Nextel cell phone-a walkie talkie–that was pretty big from 2003-06] I started freaking out–I knew that this could only mean trouble. I was so nervous because I knew that this situation was going to create more havoc in my life. A million thoughts rushed into my mind: “He is gonna think I was cheating with another man, when the truth was I didn’t feel my phone vibrating.” I shouldn’t have to remind him of how “girls shop”–that should be common sense, “Right?” Not to an insecure man I suppose. I could always reason with Slimm because I consider these circumstances: I had an affair with Slimm while I was married. It is fair for him to think that “if I could cheat on my husband, then I could cheat on him too” but Slimm knows that I have plenty of admirers and I can choose any suitor I wanted. Bottom line, I knew Slimm was violent, and I was not going to risk getting caught up with another man–It’s called self-preservation.

I immediately hit him back on the chirp; my heart was racing and my pulse was beating heavily. I waited for him to respond back and when he did I knew that it was on! He was angry and unreceptive,

“Where the fuck you been?!”

I tried to explain myself, but he rebuked me–he wouldn’t even try to listen to anything I was saying. Our conversation then ended, and fifteen minutes later I made it back to the hotel room. As I walked inside, seeing him sitting at the table with a mean muggin’ expression on his face, ALL HELL broke loose. Almost immediately I tried to explain the situation to him, but he ignored me. In an act of superiority, he rose from his chair; walked towards me; and stood over me. Every time I would speak, he made sure to talk over me.

“Baby I…I didn’t feel my phone -” was all I could ever say to him; before he started doubting my words.

“I don’t want to hear your fuckin’ lies. I don’t believe you!”  He shouted.

His spit was flying all over my face as he went off on my ass–that’s how close he was to me. Then without warning: BAM! He head-butted me again, but this time in my mouth–busting my lip on impact. Blood began dripping all over the place, but that didn’t stop him from continuing his rage. He threw me around the room; tore the clothes off my body; and choked me out. I fell to the floor and I felt my body go limp; breathing became difficult–he must have noticed because he took a break from his rampage. Assuming that he was trying to regain his energy for round two, which I was not up for, I took the opportunity to sprint to the bathroom and locked myself in.

I found a corner on the bathroom floor near the shower; I brought my knees up to my chest, burying my face; and I cried uncontrollably. My heart was beating rapidly as though it was going to explode inside my chest. Just to think that three hours earlier I was consumed in his happiness, but now at this moment I was frightened for my life. I tried to calm myself, wondering how I was ever going to get out of this room, nonetheless the bathroom, alive.

Stay Tuned Next Week To Read The Next Page Of Her Chilling New Book

 

Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones: The End of Chapter 1 (Love)


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…..

20131102-145624.jpg

Chapter 1

Love

September 2004: End of Summer (Continued)

He began to tell me about his night, and how he was in a heated argument with Blu’s best friend, Farrell. I saw the anger oozing out of him and it was apparent that Farrell said something that really perturbed Slimm. And so, I sat there staring at him affectionately, not knowing what would come next. Then all of sudden he yanked me by the arm and demanded to know what I told Blu. I suppose he needed to take his anger out on someone and he chose me. I had no idea what he was talking about, which I told him so. But, this frustrated him even more. He started cursing, saying upsetting words,

“I knew I couldn’t fuckin’ trust you!”

“What are you talking about?!” I didn’t tell Blu anything,” I responded in complete utterness.

I could not believe what was happening. What started as a conversation had turned into a fighting match between me and him–with me trying to escape his huge hands. I climbed back onto the bed to distance myself from him, but it didn’t matter. He grabbed me by my clothes, and once I was in his clutches, he began to strangle me; his hands were firm around my neck. Grasping for air I began to kick him as hard as I could, until he let go. He finally let go of me, but without warning he did the unthinkable: BAM! He head-butted me directly in the forehead!

I laid on the bed, holding my head, and cried in pain; while he walked around the room ranting and raving–spitting saliva everywhere. I…

~*~

           I was so angry. I could not believe, he would abuse me over “he say, she say” drama! “Who does that?!,” I thought to myself. He stood there yelling and hollering, making no sense at all–and there was no end to his ranting. He refused to talk, but demanded to be heard. I then slowly got out of bed, with the bed now between us; he was on one side and I was on the other.

He began with his violent threats shouting, “I’m gonna beat your ass!”

I was offended by his brutal words, because I didn’t do anything wrong! With anger I shouted back at him saying,

You wake me out of my sleep; tricked me into an argument; beat on me; and threaten me because Blu’s homeboy said something to you –something you didn’t like?!”

I picked up a half-full water bottle by the cap and threw it across the room aiming at his face. I watched as the plastic bottle propelled in the air and struck him in the eye. He stood there for a few seconds silently with his hand over his eye, and then blood trickled down his finger. Noticing the blood, I quickly rushed to his side and apologized. I felt horrible; I didn’t intend to hurt him–and he had no words for me. He left me that night only to return a few hours later with stitches above his eyebrow. Quietly, he joined me in bed, looked me dead in the eyes, and said,

“We’re gonna go through things. That’s what a relationship is about.”

At the time I was happy to hear those words; my man was back and he still loved me. I told myself that Blu and his friend were trying to ruin my relationship. However, it would not be until later in my life that, “going through things in a relationship” does not mean you beat the living hell out of each other and forget about it the next day. But until then all I knew was this: “I was in LOVE.”

CHAPTER 2

Mutual Addiction

          Over the next few weeks, our arguments and disagreements with each other would only get worse. And it was during this time that I did not care what he would do to me; because I would always find my way back to him. It did not matter if he had a new reason to blame me or fault me for anything; and it did not matter if he used excessive physical force to get his point across (using me as his punching bag whenever he felt like venting his anger)–I still wanted to be his girl! There were times that he would threaten to leave me and I would get down on my knees, crying to him–begging to him– to stay; and he did. And there were times that he would be just plain mean, cold, and distant towards me; but I took it. He was worth any exertion of hurtful emotions I felt; and he was worth any risk of Indiscretions I have made in the past. He was my drug.

I was addicted to him, to us, and he was too. We could have made our lives easier, by leaving each other alone, but we didn’t. Instead, we would go back and forth, arguing and fighting with each other. But as always, in the end, we would eventually talk and make up. It was a cycle; a pattern – a mutual addiction.

STAY TUNED NEXT WEEK TO READ THE NEXT PAGE OF HER CHILLING NEW BOOK

Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones, Chapter 1: Love Continued


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….

20131102-145624.jpgHe listened when I spoke, showered me with sweet words, and took care of my needs. But he was also a bad boy: street smart, intelligent, and feared–It was a turn-on! After all, I always had a thing for bad boys. I think it was the gangster movies that enhanced this preference of mine like The Godfather, Good Fellas, Scarface, The Untouchables, and the American Gangster. I loved the men that played in those movies: rough and hard; smart and wise; and, good to their women. Slimm was that man. He totally gained my heart and trust. He made me feel like a woman.

Summer 2004: The Beginning of A New

        My relationship with my husband Blu was a dysfunctional mess–long before Slimm entered my life. [If I were to elaborate on the deterioration of my marriage, I’d have to write another book entirely. But don’t worry I will reveal my experiences and feelings including Blu’s to provide clarity and understanding into my world].

Blu and I married very young and quick; we encountered many factors and obstacles that were too difficult to move past. Following our marital separation, my children and I moved to Moreno Valley, a community located in the Inland Empire (about 70 miles east of Los Angeles). I moved in with my dad and his family, and once I got situated, I enrolled my kids into school and began to accept what my life was going to be like without Blu–considering we’d been together since I was 18. I knew it was going to be a challenge, but then again, “what wasn’t a challenge in my life?”–it’s about how you perceived it. I had the kids Monday through Friday, and the weekends were reserved for Blu. While the kids spent time with their dad, I spent my time with Slimm.

It was a tough situation, but it was working. And with that, the beginning of my relationship with Slimm was becoming very convenient. But I suppose new love always feels like that until you hit a bump in the road. And in my case, one bump was followed by many– increasingly over time.

           The time that Slimm and I shared together were amazing: He was spontaneous and outgoing; having fun has always been a part of the plan. Whether it was dinner and a movie; go-kart riding; barbecuing at the beach; bowling; or hitting a club, it was always a good time. He went out of his way to please me and I appreciated it; my husband was the complete opposite. It was the little things he did that held my attention like; rubbing my feet; taking time out of his day to take me to lunch; or sending flowers to my job after a disagreement to illustrate his sincere regrets. I was in love. It felt amazing to love someone and be loved back–that’s all I ever wanted! Loving Slimm and his charming ways was so easy. So imagine how astounded I was, with less than a month after separating from my husband, that Slimm would flip the script on me.

September 2004: The End of Summer

            It was the weekend, and the kids were with their father. Since Slimm and I didn’t have our own place, we spent more than enough money to stay at hotel rooms – this was our weekend ritual. On this particular night Slimm went out and came in at about 2 am. He woke me up from my sleep and turned the lamp on, which was fixated on the nightstand. My eyes squinted; the glow from the lamp was extra bright. He gently caressed my body and told me to come sit on his lap–I meekly followed his instruction. He was calm and tender; the way he always was. But that night it was to deceive me; thinking that everything was good when actuality it was ALL BAD. What started out so tenderly would actually end up so terribly.

He began to tell me about his night, and how he was in a heated argument with Blu’s best friend, Farrell. I saw the anger oozing out of him and it was apparent that Farrell said something that really perturbed Slimm. And so, I sat there staring at him affectionately, not knowing what would come next. Then all of sudden he yanked me by the arm and demanded to know what I told Blu. I suppose he needed to take his anger out on someone and he chose me. I had no idea what he was talking about, which I told him so. But, this frustrated him even more. He started cursing, saying upsetting words,

I knew I couldn’t fuckin’ trust you!

What are you talking about?!” I didn’t tell Blu anything,” I responded in complete utterness.

I could not believe what was happening. What started as a conversation had turned into a fighting match between me and him–with me trying to escape his huge hands. I climbed back onto the bed to distance myself from him, but it didn’t matter. He grabbed me by my clothes, and once I was in his clutches, he began to strangle me; his hands were firm around my neck. Grasping for air I began to kick him as hard as I could, until he let go. He finally let go of me, but without warning he did the unthinkable: BAM! He head-butted me directly in the forehead!

I laid on the bed, holding my head, and cried in pain; while he walked around the room ranting and raving–spitting saliva everywhere. I…

Click Here to read End of Chapter 1: Love