PART THREE: Chapter Two

Chapter Two

     Although  my soul often felt empty, I began a period of peace and reflection. It was during these quiet and peaceful times of reflection that I sensed the presence of God all around me. I sensed His presence in a gentle breeze, the rustle of the trees or the gentle blush of dawn. My soul was at peace and others would often comment and observe my new manner. I could spend hours when I was not at work or class sitting on my sofa gazing at the sky, a soft smile upon my face as though I were listening to something. I cannot actually explain this period of time in my life without seeming odd because my spirit comprehends it fully while the rest of my being just accepts it. I felt that God and I had a tight relationship. When RoJacks took over Edwards, they severely cut the hours of veteran employees like me instead of outright laying us off. I found myself short on funds due to lack of hours but, for some reason, I had faith that God would help me. I had no one else to rely upon but Him. I recall one time, I was unable to pay my rent which was due in a few days. My prayer to God was like a conversation with my best friend. I thanked Him for all that He had done and promised I'd thank and praise Him for helping me. After I had finished with my prayer, I had confidence that He would help me and He did. Before the rent was due, I received a refund check of twelve hundred dollars-far more than my rent- from my college loans. I rushed to the bank and was not only able to pay my rent for the month but for a few months. I did not forget to thank and praise God and I could not believe that He actually answered my prayers. Despite my relationship with God, I still had a void deep within my soul.

     I continued to long for the companionship of another human being to replace the lack of love from my parents. Many people on campus didn't fully understand me and some even labeled me "odd". I didn't want to be a mystery to others but I didn't want to let them get too close to me, either. I had the bad habit of looking for love in the wrong places because love was something I wanted more than anything. In regards to boyfriends in college, I had only the one who went into a cult and that relationship happened by accident.

     I was walking home from working at the library one night and I saw him dancing and walking simultaneously ahead of me.  He and I went to high school together and were the same age. Due to some personal problems he and his family were having, he didn't graduate when I did. He had appeared in my life a few weeks before this particular night when we were riding the city bus and he invited me to his breakdancing performance. I brushed off his invitation and hadn't seen him again until this night. At the time, I wasn't aware he was staying with his mother and her boyfriend who just happened to live behind my apartment complex. When he noticed I was behind him, he laughed and said, "I didn't know you were behind me, Candace. Color me red!" I laughed as well. He walked me to the door of my apartment and asked if he could visit me one day. He told me that he promised not to try anything and he held true to his promise. We became good friends. I felt comfortable around him. Our friendship was all so innocent. The attention he gave me was sweet. One afternoon, he had asked me if I'd be his girlfriend and I agreed. He was the first guy who had ever kissed me. I liked the innocence of holding hands and was devastated when our brief relationship came to an end. I felt in my heart no one would ever like me like that again. He didn't run away when I told him about my abuse as a child and, after he left for the cult, I felt like a fool for bearing my soul to him. I promised myself that I'd never do that to again, a promise I did not keep.

     Unfortunately, my desperation for love was written on my forehead and people could often read it in my eyes before my lips spoke anything. This was bad for me as it often made me the one used and tossed aside by men claiming to love me. During one of my college years, I thought I was dating one of the basketball players on campus who was extremely kind to me and even professed to love me. Despite his claim of love for me, I refused to give up my body to him. He continued to be kind to me, and came to my apartment one Christmas Eve with a gift for me and a pile of gifts for his family that he and I wrapped together. Shortly afterwards, he landed a main part in a play on campus and his kindness towards me began to fade away. Nevertheless, he continued to tell me he was still interested in me but was just so busy with the theatre, basketball and classes. I didn't realize what was actually happening until  two friends of mine had asked him what he was going to get me for Valentine's Day during a Valentine's Day sale in the cafeteria. In response, he told my friends that he had nothing to do with me and that people "needed to stop going around saying he and I were dating". When word of this got back to me, I wrote him off without even telling him. Afterall, we weren't really dating, now were we? He had no idea I knew what had transpired that same afternoon when he came to visit me at work as he had always done in the library. He was angry when I treated him as if he were just another library patron looking for some help and angrily stormed out of the library. One of my friends who lived on campus had called me at the library telling me that he had called her screaming and asking her what she had said to me because I was "being cold to him". She didn't answer him directly but played the same game I had and asked him why he was so worried about someone he was not even dating.
     This basketball player was very popular on campus and had many girls attracted to him and he was well aware of it. Although I felt very sad because he was ashamed to let others know he was dating me, I  continued to walk go about my daily routines. I cried a lot when no one was around. Why didn't anyone want to be with me? Was I that hideous that I was an embarrassment? My friends were very encouraging and actually felt sorry for me. I had allowed myself to be hurt yet again. Maybe my father was right when he said that I was "only good enough for one thing" and that no one would want me for anything else but that. If I didn't let them have my body, then they had no use for me.
     I did continue to see this basketball player on campus and he continued calling me and tried talking to me  but each time, I gave him the coldest of the cold shoulders. A male friend of mine would pretend to be dating me whenever the basketball player tried talking to me. He'd put his arm around me or sit close to me and stare the six-foot four basketball player straight in the eyes. These actions often created an awkward moment for the basketball player and a humorous one for my friend. One day, my friend wanted to talk to me about a problem he was having and decided to walk me to my apartment talk to me while he was on his hour lunch break from work. I noticed  the basketball player and his basketball buddies walking behind us on their way to their dorm which was close to my off-campus apartment. Aware of their presence, my friend suddenly grabbed me, pulling me close to him and shouted, "Candace, I NEED you!" which sent me into fits of uncontrollable laughter. I wanted to see the reaction on the faces of the jock crew behind us but didn't want to make it obvious. They stopped at their dorm and sat on the stairs which were in full view of my apartment at the bottom of the hill. They watched us walk down the hill to my apartment.
      Looking over his shoulder, my friend said, "Let's go inside for a bit."
      Aware of how he wanted this action to appear, I exclaimed, "Are you crazy? They"ll beat you up!"
     "Yeah, but this is going to be fun." he replied, puffing out his chest. After a half hour of him playing with my new kitten and him glaring out the window at the crew who were still sitting on the steps, my friend decided it was time to leave.
     "Don't walk me out." my friend said. My friend smoked and his girlfriend who was also my good friend had been trying to get him to quit and he was making great progress. I reprimanded him, when he reached for his cigarette and lighter in his back pocket.
     "What are you doing?" I screamed.
     Winking at me, he walked toward the door. "Watch this. This is gonna be fun. This is for you." Standing outside my first floor apartment door, he lit his cigarette, puffed a few times and headed up the hill past the crowd of basketball players sitting on the steps. When my friend arrived at work, he called me to excitedly tell me how he confidently walked past the crew, puffing his cigarette and how the basketball player who was my ex glared at him and mumbled something to one member of his crew. My friend and I had a great laugh. I needed a lot of cheering up. I had been so embarrassed that, at times, I felt as if everyone on campus were secretly laughing at me.
     When was I going to learn that no one but God could replace the emptiness within my soul? Why did I continue to try to bandage the hurt with human comfort? I had to first deal with my past and understand them before I could truthfully love myself before someone could truthfully love me in return. I wasn't done making mistakes and getting hurt. During my senior year of college, I made a very big mistake that eventually cost me my tight relationship with God. I truly believe that I had let the devil himself into my little world and almost paid for it with my life.

PART THREE:

     Chapter One

     As the distance between my brother and me grew, I buried myself in working two jobs and going to college full time. I worked in the Circulation Department at Adams Library on the Rhode Island College Campus and at Edwards Supermarket on Niantic Avenue on the Providence/Cranston line. My days were a blur of classes and work. I'd get up at 5a.m. after working until midnight at the library the night before and catch the bus to Edwards where I was known as a speedy and friendly cashier (and, because of that, was often graced with ringing up in the Express Lane). I hid my sadness by giving my friendliness to customers, greeting them and making them feel special. It made me feel good to cause others to smile.
     Because I was always working and going to classes, I lost a lot of weight very quickly. I was down to a size 4 then a 2 and, finally a size 0. Many people began to notice and wondered if I were ill. An guy in one of my classes with whom I was friendly happened to see me working at the library and bluntly asked me in his Italian accent, "Hey, what's the matter with you? You sick?" I was shocked that he even had the nerve to go there. He continued, " Why you getting so skinny? To be honest, you'd look better with a little more meat on your bones." I was hurt. I was happy that I was skinny but I hadn't realized just how skinny I had gotten. I was working so hard. I walked almost everywhere except to Edwards alhtough I often walked from Edwards on Sundays when I missed the last bus. It was a long walk in pumps but I somehow, didn't feel the pain in my feet. Sometimes, I even walked carrying two bags of groceries (paper AND plastic, of course).
     The guy I was seeing broke up with me after only two weeks of dating because he was convinced by a campus cult to give up everything and everyone and follow them. He told me that I was causing him to sin and that his parents never really loved him. It was so unexpected. He came to greet me at my new job at CVS at closing and, on the way home via the city bus, he said to me, " God doesn't want us to be together anymore."I was so shocked and then angry. We were having a great time and I could see that it was hurting him to break up with me. Before we had even broken up, I had a dream that we went to a playground in North Providence, RI but the strange thing was that there was only one swing and the swing set and it was gently blowing in the wind. I knew it was a sign from God but I didn't know what it meant. I had never been to that playground  until a few days following the dream. It was an odd feeling. I should have knew at that point that something was going to happen and that I'd be left alone just like the lonely swing that moved with the breeze. I tried to convince him that the cult was wrong and even went to the Chaplain on campus to ask for help. The Chaplain was aware of the cult and told me how they had managed to convince many students to surrender cars, money and even courses of study to go with them. I left a Bible at my boyfriend's house with a few passages marked. The Bible was returned to me with a lengthy, heart-wrenching note. He was going to Louisiana and he wasn't interested (or so he said) in dating me anymore. I cried as I remembered how he once said I could trust him and how we used to go for walks in the warm August weather and run through sprinklers on lawns of houses and businesses. I had opened my heart and I had been hurt.
     My heart felt numb. I had managed to harden it so that I wouldn't get hurt. I was afraid of getting too close to anyone but, nevertheless, wanted someone to love me anyway. In my walks about campus, I'd look at all the young, attractive college girls chatting up the guys and felt so ugly. I didn't have nice clothes. I didn't have a car. In fact I got my driver's license late because my father called my driving trainer school and told them I felt uncomfortable driving with a male teacher which was totally incorrect. The driving school dropped me and I had to wait until after I ran away to explain to the school what had actually happened. I was so embarrassed.
     I carried that embarrassment with me throughout my college years. I had no desire for sex, just for someone to love me purely. I knew it was only a dream but I liked to dream. I knew people began to think I was a bit strange. I sometimes felt eyes pierce into my back when I'd walk by the cafeteria windows. I knew no one would want "the weirdo" on campus. It seemed all anyone cared about was figuring out my ethnicity as I was repeatedly asked, "What are you" instead of "What's your name". A group of girls who had someone found out I was part Native American screamed at me as I walked into the college cafeteria, "You stupid Indian! Go put a feather in your head! Heya, heya, heya!" They followed their loud comments by even louder laughs, causing heads to turn in my direction as my face and neck burned from embarrassment.  Weeks later, I returned to my spot in the library where  studied to find, "Stop educating niggas" and a swastika spray painted on the wall. Horrified, I ran, tears streaming from my eyes. What did I do? I was not the only person of color on campus. What had I done to be so despised? How I wanted to die! I was beginning to believe that I had actually been cursed. What was this hell on earth that I had been drenched in? Would it ever get any better? When would my days get brighter?

Chapter Four

     As promised, I wrote my brother a few times a week. I never wrote my return address on the envelopes and I assume that sparked suspicion within my father. I discovered that my father was hiding all of my letters in a cabinet drawer much like he started hiding all of the mail addressed to me while I was still living at home. It reminded me of a certain scene in "The Color Purple", a movie he repeatedly forced me to watch while, his eyes invasively crawled all over my body. During a sex scene in the movie, he would always say, "That's why I'm trying to teach you."My brother would not be forced to watch the movie. He was free to play and hang out in his bedroom.

      My brother never received the gifts I sent him for Christmas. I wondered why he never said, "thank you". I never heard from my brother and assumed he was angry with me for leaving him. Once again, I was sad. I loved him so much. Why hadn't he sent a response through my half-sister? I’d never forgive myself for leaving him.

     I phoned my  half-sister and arranged a day when she could bring my brother to see me. I remember how anxious I was about seeing him again. I couldn't wait to throw my arms about him and squeeze him with all my might. The meeting was not as great as I had thought it would be. He was angry and I didn't know why. Through his anger, however, I sensed sadness and fear. Why hadn't he taken my mother up on her offer and go live with her? He was her only son and a favorite of hers, so she'd do anything for him. She'd lavish him with gifts and would probably send him to the best schools, at least this is what I though.

     When my brother also discovered that I was dating a guy who was half white, he started yelling at me. It was obvious he had inherited my father’s hatred for white people. He was so angry with me and I was so hurt. I knew he, too, was hurting and I assumed my father bad mouthed me. There was my little brother, tall, handsome and muscular eyes red with sadness and his face etched with pain. Why hadn't I taken the chance and taken him with me when I ran away? What had happened to him? He was the only person I loved. Why couldn't he love me back like a brother should his sister? 

     Eventually, my brother and I lost touch and it hurt deeply. I poured myself into working two jobs and doing well in my college courses. I didn't have much of a social life outside school. I didn't go to clubs like many others did on Thursday nights. In fact, I was working the midnight shift.  My college years were years of growth, development and self-discovery. I was often inspired to write poetry that echoed my sadness with the situation of my brother and my abuse. I often asked God for answers. I wrote my best poetic pieces when I was engrossed in reflection. It was during these years that I was the most at one with nature. I was my most spiritual self, whole and receptive to the natural world around me. Much like my Native American ancestors, I was able to “communicate” with the natural world and draw strength from it. I was labeled "odd", "eccentric" yet many wanted to be friends with me. I feared getting too close because I feared my secret being discovered.

       I was finally free. God had delivered me. My father would hurt me no more. I was safe and I was going to be something in the world one day, I'd tell myself. No one would insult me daily and tell me how ugly I looked or how stupid females were. I didn’t have to hear disgusting sexual noises at night. The peace that I so longed for was upon me. This was a new life. This was a new beginning.

Or was it?

    

Chapter Three

     My freedom was at hand and I was finally feeling happy. My new apartment was cozy and furnished. My rent was $450/ month and my only expenses were electric and telephone, both of which were surprisingly low. I told my brother the date I’d be leaving. I could sense his fear. He was afraid of my father but he had the option of living with my mother, an option I was never offered by her. All he had to do was not come home after school and go meet my mother. I, on the other hand had no such luxury. It was as if my mother left me for dead.

     In an unmarked moving van, I sat almost breathless as we awaited the arrival of the police. I had called the police just in case my father got crazy and grabbed one of his many guns he kept in his bedroom. For some reason, my father looked as if he knew I was leaving. He came out the front door and got into his car, driving away from the house. I noticed my brother walking down the street. His face was tight and his cheeks were streaked with tears. He blindly walked passed the unmarked van.  When the police escort arrived, they questioned a neighbor about my residence and I was allowed to unlock the door and frantically gather my belongings. My friends had my things packed in the van in less than a half hour. Before I left, I turned to my brother whose eyes were red. “Take me with you!” he wailed and my heart was instantly torn in two. At the time, I knew that since my brother was under legal age, I’d get in trouble for taking him with me. My safety would be jeapordized and there was no telling what my father would do once he found me.

     I hugged my brother and placed my copy of the key on the dining room table.  My brother said that he had seen our father’s car circling the neighborhood so I had to hurry. The police officer questioned me about my father. My father could make anyone believe he was an innocent old man as he did many of the Providence Police Officers, especially those who were unaware of the many public fights at our former house on Sumter Street. He often waved at the police officers while he aimlessly leaned against the porch watching life pass by. He had a lot of people fooled and then there were some closed lipped people whojust turned a blind eye to what was in front of their faces.

     “Good luck.” My brother whispered as I tightly hugged him goodbye. I told him that I would be in touch. I loved my brother so very much despite the mean things he said to me. I knew he just didn’t understand. I loved him more than I loved anyone at the time. A flood of emotions washed over me but I remained strong. I didn’t cry until I was in the van and we pulled away.