Christin

I was in a good place when I boarded the plane to Mexico. I had just lost 20 lbs. —thanks to my go-to low carb diet. I was feeling confident, alive and the best I had felt in a long time. I had a good thing with a handsome, army guy. Things couldn’t have been better.

I spent two very hot weeks in Sonora, Mexico. I loved this place! Dancing in the streets all night long, the authentic food and shopping was a dream come true. Yes, I said the food. I had gained 10 of the 20 lbs. I had lost within the first week but I didn’t care. The people were so welcoming to the “gringas”. Some of the family even tried to help me speak Spanish. God help them. “Como Estas” sounded more like “Coma sauce”. But hey I tried…and they laughed.

There were some not-so-great parts about Mexico. The heat and the bugs were unbearable. Cockroaches the size of a baseball and mosquitos that seemed to enjoy my particular type of blood. And the heat. The heat and the humidity was awful. You step outside and your hair and body were drenched in sweat within seconds. Nasty. But what surprised me the most were the people. They didn’t have much. Dirt floors and houses that were less than well-built. But that didn’t matter. They were more concerned with family. Family was more important than anything and this would be something that I took away from this trip.

I came back to the states looking like a hot mess. Mosquito bites head to toe. I did however get a great tan, so that was good. I was feeling a little sick. Not sure if it was jet lag or just all the mosquito bites. It could have been the many stops at the little taco trucks after a night of dancing and drinking. Or maybe it was the water. Wait? Did I drink the water down there? No I don’t think so. Luckily I had a few days of vacation left to rest before going back to work. Maybe I just needed to sleep it off.

I returned to work the end of July. I was still feeling sick. I couldn’t shake it. No, maybe sick isn’t the word. Just different. A little off. Ben and I had been in contact. While I was on my vacation down south, he had gotten orders to go out into the field. Meaning, he had to go to military training in Eastern Washington. So I had to wait a week to see him. I was ok with that. Maybe by the time he came back, I would be feeling better. And he wouldn’t have to see these bites all over me. I looked like I had gotten a case of the measles. Yeah, that’s real attractive.

A week went by and he came back. But I still wasn’t feeling better. Maybe I got some deadly disease when I was down there. Maybe it was a tapeworm? Am I going to die? My overthinking everything doesn’t help. Now I am planning my funeral and sending out invites. After a few days of keeping my “illness” and dying thoughts to myself, I find myself in the pharmacy on my lunch break. It was just a precaution before I went to the doctor the next day. I bought a pregnancy test. I really didn’t think I was but I just wanted to rule it out. No big deal right? I find myself in the bathroom stall at work. I was wearing my smiley face blue Wal-Mart vest while sitting there. I am reading the directions for the pregnancy test.

1. Wash your hands thoroughly

2. Place the stick under the urine stream

3. Let sit for 1-2 min

4. 1 line—not pregnant

5. 2 lines—pregnant

Ok, then. This should be quick. Take the test and clear the conscious. So, I followed the directions to a T. I am sitting there impatiently waiting the results so I can get back to work. 1-2 minutes felt like forever. Ok there is one line. WAIT. Is that another line? It wasn’t dark but I could just barely make out another blue line. Did I read the directions right? I pulled them out a reread them. No it was right. Clearly, I got a defective pregnancy test. I threw it away and made my way back up to the pharmacy. The girl working there gave me a funny look as I placed 3 pregnancy tests up on the counter. Just in case I got another defective one, you know? I had about 15 minutes left on my lunch break. I had to make it quick. I ran back to the bathroom stall with my 3 pregnancy tests in hand. Ok, now I would definitely rule it out. Following the directions, one by one, I took another test. Waiting, waiting, waiting. I look down. Two lines again. Except this time they were both darker. This can’t be right. I ripped open the next package. Wanting to get this over with. And two lines again. This can’t be right. And again. My last pregnancy test. This one had to be right. Follow the directions, I tell myself. Ok. Once again, I read it and follow the directions. Waited 2 minutes. Look at it again. My heart stopped for a moment. Time seemed to stop as well. I felt all the blood rush out of my body. 2 LINES.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I find myself sitting on the floor of the bathroom stall. This can’t be happening. I just barely turned 22. I can’t have a baby. Oh, dear God what was Ben going to think? What would he do? What was I going to do? I don’t know how long I sat there. It seemed like forever. Way past my lunch break, I know for sure. It literally took what energy I had left to get up off the floor and compose myself. The rest of the day was a blur. I didn’t see or hear anything or anyone. My co-worker Val even showed concern. “Chris, are you okay…you look pale” “Yeah, still recovering from my trip” She didn’t look convinced. I couldn’t convince myself either. I even ran into Jen at work. I wanted to grab her and pull her aside. I wanted to tell her everything. But I didn’t. Things were still a little tense between us. I got home that evening. I knew there was one call I had to make. I grabbed the phone and dialed the number. My hands were shaking. I tried to keep my voice steady.

“Hello” “Hi, it’s me. Ben, we need to talk”

There Goes My Life

Jennifer

Late Spring, 2002.

Four weeks.

For four weeks, every single day at work I was a complete mess. The Breakup took its toll on me. I do not even have a good explanation as to why. Why was I so depressed? Why did I not have the confidence in myself? Why was I looking to other people to give me my self-worth?

I was working on the ICS team at Wal-Mart. Which would later become a turning point for me. So, pay attention!

ICS is just a fancy name for “grunt worker.” For some reason, some idiot thought I would “shine” being on the ICS team. Clearly they did not realize that I was more concerned with keeping my nails in tact and perfectly polished, than I was about pulling pallets.  Most likely the idiot’s reasoning was I was in no shape to be around customers on the floor, because let’s face it, if you have a crazy depressed woman on the sales floor who cannot even direct you to the peanut oil without having a breakdown, then there is a problem.

The new group of guys I worked with were great. They knew all about T and his psycho tendencies. Karl was my new boss. He was funny, knew his stuff, and was a great person to have train me. I took to him quickly, he was good, and later on becomes a pivotal part to Christin’s story. The only downfall,  he was in transition to become a Support Manager. His replacement, who I had not yet officially met,  was on a four-week vacation. This worked well for me, ICS was pretty much left to their own devices.

I could not have asked to work with a better group of people, they were protective, yet game me my space, they trained me while being being a friend, and on many occasion they threatened to go find T and kick his ass. I had never worked with all guys before. This was something I had to get used to, different, but good. I was able to have my breakdowns, and The Guys were able to be there for me in a gentle yet firm kind of way, without worrying about any repercussions from our current or new boss. We would take longer breaks, we would go out to lunch, and everyone would turn a blind eye when I would be on the concrete floor in the back room of Wal-Mart questioning what was wrong with me. Dramatic much?

Even though the entire store, aside from the whores, were so excited for the breakup, it took me longer to see it. No one liked T…..again, aside from the whores. T was very intimidating, very thugish, gangster, pretty much a douche. No one, except for the whores, wanted anything to do with him. Then, when there was no more T, things changed. Also, I cannot stand the whores.

People started asking me out. Guys working in electronics, guys working in the McDonald’s located in Wal-Mart, perhaps even the custodian. Everyone started asking me out, which was weird. “So, now that you know, you’re not with, you know, would you want to hang out some time?” Of course all that did was send me into another state of depression. You see,these guys, they did not want to go out with me because of me and my awesome and depressing personality, they wanted to go out with me to get a little dig in at T. They wanted to be like “Yeah, asshole, I am taking your girl out tonight.” Do you see what I mean?

I was probably on my 200th breakdown in the back room, when things changed.

Enter Sean. Not Christin’s Sean. Sean was a fellow co-worker on the ICS team. He was dating my very good friend Jessica. Jessica and I were pretty close. We had gotten to know each other pretty well, so well in fact that she and her son we going to move in with me to help alleviate the cost of rent, during that time I got to know Sean, who turned out to be a pretty good friend. “Jen, Hear me out, I know you think you are not ready, but you are, it’s time, you have to get out of this place you are in. Go out with one of these guys, go have dinner, go have a drink, just get out there, for you. Do it for you.”

I still was not convinced. At this point I hated all men, except the ones I worked with, and pretty much decided I was either going to try to whole lesbian thing, or the nun thing. I just could not do it.

One day at work, The Guys took me aside. We were in the back room. I was working the pet freight, while ruining my nails. The Guys did not seem to be working,  all they were doing was talking to the one Pepsi vendor who had been in our store every single day. They called me over, and introduced me. “Jen, this is Ryan. He is a Pepsi vendor.”

Apparently my co-workers thought I was an idiot, because the fact that Ryan was wearing a Pepsi uniform and was stocking the Pepsi led me to believe, that in fact, he was a Pepsi vendor. I reached my hand out to shake his hand, assuming there was some new project in the works, some new display we had to make happen, and I tried to put on my best face. “Hello, nice to meet you.”

All the other guys scattered off except Sean. The three of us stood there making small talk, while I was waiting to here what the project was.

“Hello Jennifer, nice to meet you. I am Ryan. I have seen you around, and I was wondering if you are not busy, I would like to take you out tomorrow night for dinner.”

I looked a Sean, knowing damn well that he most likely paid this poor lost soul to offer to take me out. I was not ready.

“Jen, I can vouch for Ryan, he is a good guy, go ahead, go have a night out, Jess and I will watch the boys.”

Sean and I were pretty tight. I knew he would not force me into a bad situation, plus, his girlfriend was my very good friend. She would totally kick his ass if this turned out badly.

“Ummm, well, are you sure? Did these guys put you up to this?”

“I would really like to take you out if you do not have any plans. I can pick you up at 6:00 if that works for you?”

I looked at Sean. I noticed that the other ICS guys were a close distance away. Against my better judgement I agreed.

“Well,ummm, yeah,okay, if you are sure, I can do 6:00.” Important to note, I could not even be confident while accepting a date.

We exchanged numbers and said our good-byes. As soon as he left, I looked at Sean. Very reminiscent of the “deer in headlights” look.

“Jen, it has been four weeks. No pressure, you are doing this for you. To show yourself that you can go out and not expect anything in return. Jess and I are here for you, you got this.”

And there you have it. I would have my first very informal date since The Breakup. Honestly, this would be my first date ever. My first date where a guy comes to my home, picks me up and drops me back off. I could not handle this. All I knew was Alphonso better be available to make me somewhat presentable.

That night, Jessica and I went to an early dinner. She was supportive and told me “You go out, it does even matter if you have a good time or not, the important part is you take that initiative and go out without any worry about T.”

While we were at dinner I got a phone call from Ryan.

“Hello?”

“Hello Jennifer! I just wanted to touch base with you and confirm tomorrow. I am so excited to take you out. You are so beautiful, I cannot wait to walk into a room with you.”

Clearly Ryan was drunk.

Seriously. This is not me being insecure Jen right now. Home boy was 100% completely wasted on the phone. The slurring was a big give away. Along with the fact that he told his brother, “Hey, pull over, I need another 40.” (for those that don’t know, a “40” is your typical ghetto beer.)

I made a mental note to kick Seans ass the next day at work.

Jessica knew Ryan was drunk. I had the phone on speaker. She heard everything I did. Jessica, who always sees the best in every single situation told me “Well, he does not have work tomorrow, so let’s give him a free pass on this one. Just go out,enjoy a nice dinner and you will never have to see him again.”

Fine!

In the quiet moments, before work the next day, I started thinking. Sean and Jessica were right. It’s not so much about Ryan, it is about me taking that first step and doing something for me, and not T and Jen. It was about me be able to go on, even if “going on” just meant a dinner at a Mexican restaurant. I decided this was not about anyone else other than me. I needed to be able to go out without looking behind my shoulder wondering if T was going to make an appearance. I needed to find the confidence, to just do it. Take a chance, try to rebuild my confidence, try to find what I had lost.

Friday evening found Alphonso at my apartment doing my hair and makeup. Jessica and Sean were taking my boys, along with Jessica’s son out for their own dinner. I was nervous. I had never been out on an official date before. I mean do you have to kiss the guy goodnight? Because THAT was not going to happen. Was I sure he was paying? I needed to make sure I had enough cash just in case. And, cash for a taxi, or phone call in case I am left stranded somewhere. I can do this, right? It is just dinner. I can do this.

Alphonso, God bless him, worked his magic and made me look pretty damn good. I do not know how he does it, but he did. As I was trying on different outfits, Alphonso and I were fighting over our music selections. He wanted to listen to Lady Marmalade, and I needed a little bit of AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long. We may have even had a little bit of a dance off….which I totally won.

I looked good. I can say that because it was not my work. It was all Alphonso. He gave me dark eyes with a nude lip. His always go-to for me. He straightened my hair, and put me in a denim mini skirt with black knee-length boots. I seriously did not know I could even look this good. My attire for the last three weeks was sweat pants, a t-shit and the god awful Wal-Mart blue vest. Dare I say I looked pretty. It was at that moment that I knew Alphonso could never leave me, or he would have to teach me how to make this magic happen.

5:45pm. I am ready. All that was left was to wait for the doorbell to ring.

5:46pm My nerves are killing me. What if I am over dressed? What if I do not like the song Ryan has on the car radio.

5:47pm Alphonso makes me a drink to calm my nerves.

5:57pm I need to take a shot.

5:58pm Alphonso and I take a shot, and have round two of a dance off. I totally won that one too, but got scolded for messing up my hair.

6:00pm Aphonso fixes my hair and demands that I sit and remain still.

6:05pm OMG he is late. What do I do?

6:06pm Alphonso orders me to calm the F down while explaining to me “No one shows up on time now a days.”

I started pacing. I do that. When I am nervous I pace,and play with my hair. This is too much pressure for me.

And then, the doorbell rang.

I wanted to die.  Alphonso gave me a quick look-over. Satisfied with his work, he told me to answer to door while he went to the back bedroom.

Nervously, I open the door, not quite sure what would be awaiting be.

Jasmine? What the hell was Jasmine doing here? Jasmine was a mutual friend of ours.

“Hey Jen, is Alphonso…”

I quickly pulled her in and sent her to the back bedroom. All I needed is for Ryan to show up when I have company. He would know they were just there checking him out.

7:15pm It is safe to say I have been stood up.

Again, I have been stood up. No phone call. I tried calling Ryan, and it went straight to voicemail. There was no denying it. I got stood up.

Seriously?!?!?!

Alphonso and Jasmine were doing their best to make light of me being stood up by a Pepsi vendor. All I wanted to know was do these guys have some secret book that is passed out once puberty hits that tells them how to NOT treat a lady? I cannot even believe this.

I took off my boots, threw them at the wall, threw my hair up into a messy bun while watching Jasmine and Alphonso exchanging the “What the hell do we say” look. We all poured a drink. I looked at myself in the mirror, I looked at Alphonso, I looked at Jasmine.

And, for the first time in a long time, I laughed.

There was nothing else I could do but laugh.

Only me!

I went in to work the next day fully prepared to give Ryan a piece of my mind.

Our new boss was back…and he did not look too happy. He called us all over.

“So what happened when I was gone, it looks like we are behind.”

I knew I had to take one for the team. We were behind, because of me, because of my break downs….because I was dramatic.

“It’s my fault we are behind. Wont happen again, we are ready to go.”

He looked us all over, a bit confused, while motivated to get the backroom together.

I did not know this new replacement boss. I came to ICS when he was on vacation. Sean made introductions.

“Jen, this is our new ICS lead, Joe.”

Christin

The year was 2002.

It was late spring. I had been roommating with Shawn for a few months now. It was at this point where I concluded that maybe the whole “roommate thing” wasn’t for me. There were things that we didn’t see eye to eye on like my cats or my staying out passed 10pm on the weekend.

On one occasion Shawn, our other friend Becca and her husband and I went out to a “base bar”. This was a club located next to the base and was supposedly a good spot for some R&B music and dancing according to Becca’s husband who was in the military. Good music and men in uniform…you didn’t have to tell me twice—I was there.

So upon entering this bar/club, I immediately am drawn in. We sat down for a few but then I decided I needed my go-to long island iced tea. Now, me and the long islands have a love/hate relationship. I love drinking them but the next morning I hate how they make me feel. I put the hate part aside and made my way up to the long line at the bar. I’m looking around and taking it all in. Suddenly someone was grabbing my hand. Startled, I looked up and saw this very tall, handsome, well-built man with some bright blue eyes. “Let me show you a quicker way to get a drink ‘round here” I didn’t know whether to thank him or pinch myself because I thought I was dreaming. “Ok, sounds good to me”

He led me to his table where some of his friends were. Clearly they were all the military because they all had the same haircuts. He put his hand in the air for just a second and the waitress came over. He ordered my long island and his Smirnoff. After that, we were inseparable. We danced and talked. I found out he was from Kentucky and his name was Ben. He was in the army and was stationed at Fort Lewis. But what really got me was that southern accent. The “fixings” and “ya’lls” really had me interested. Someone different. Finally.

Ben and I saw each other almost every day. We talked, went out to dinners, and spent countless nights out on the town. He was more like a gentleman than anyone I had ever encountered. He always opened up car doors for me. He always insisted on paying even though I offered on several occasions. But the one thing that separated him from the rest was his ability to make you feel like when you were him, you were not only protected but you were someone important. I attribute all of these things to being from the south. I’m not sure if that’s true or not. But the quote “southern gentleman” rings true in this instance.

On one particular night a group of us went to a salsa club in Fife. Ben refused to dance with me. Not because he didn’t want to but because he said he couldn’t dance to the music. Well, after the 5th time I was asked to dance by a stranger, I decided I really wanted to dance. I stepped out with the little Hispanic guy and we danced a few dances. I came back to the table and Ben was gone. Where had he gone? Nobody knew where he was. I looked everywhere and couldn’t find him. Finally, I decided to check outside and there he was. He didn’t look very happy. “What’s the matter with you” I asked, nudging him with my elbow. “Nothing. Just stepped out for a minute” Ben said. “You wanna dance?” “You know white boys can’t dance to this” he replied with his southern twang. “C’mon, who cares?”

What came next was a game changer. He looked at me and said “I don’t like seeing you dancin’ with other people” What?? Maybe it was the alcohol in him talking. But up to this point our relationship had been just casual. Nothing serious. No labels. I didn’t ask questions and neither did he. We got along great and I wanted to keep it at that for as long as we could. I knew that he wouldn’t be stationed here forever but I tried not to think about that. We just genuinely enjoyed each other’s company and that’s all that mattered, for me anyways. I really didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t wanting to get into a serious relationship because my track record wasn’t looking so good at this point. I mean let’s be honest I had already struck out 3 times and this fourth prospect wasn’t looking to great just because he was property of the United Stated Army and could be stationed anywhere at any time.

I never could find a proper response to him. So, I suggested we leave a little early. We said goodbye to everyone and left. We found ourselves talking late into the night. He drove me home about 3 am. I went to the door and it was locked. I didn’t have a key. Another “issue” I had with the roommate. I never got a house key. So, I ran back out before he drove away. I jumped in and we decided to go back to his place. Except his place was the barracks on base. This should be interesting. We drove up to these big buildings. I have to admit I was nervous. What if I got caught? Would I go to jail? Would Ben get into trouble? Ben assured me that wouldn’t happen. He had his own room. We walked up to the room and it was smaller than I had imagined. Just a bed and a small T.V. We talked for the rest of the night. Not about anything special but about everything.

The Fourth of July was just around the corner. I was excited to spend it with Ben but I knew soon after I would be leaving for 2 weeks. Shawn invited me to go with her to Mexico for a two-week vacation. There would also be a traditional Hispanic memorial for her late husband. I was looking forward to the trip but not leaving Ben.

We had a “Fiesta” themed going away party at the house. We had sombrero’s and Mexican food. Mariachi music playing and a lot of people made for a good time. It was during these times that I wish Jen and Alphonso would’ve been around. This was their kind of party.

Ben came and we spent our last hours talking and laughing before I boarded the plane. I didn’t know then that this would be the last of uncomplicated times for us. This would be the last of many things for me. Life was going to throw me a curve ball and this time I didn’t know if I was going to swing and hit it… or strike out.

 

• Disclaimer, names have been changed to protect anonymity

Jennifer

Yesterday, a friend asked me “Is T dead? Did you ever run into to him?”

The answer is,

I do not know…and no.

 

Sometimes I will be out, running errands, and think I see him out of the corner of my eye. It is a mix of emotions between being scared, wanting to hide, to me being all like “Bring it on, I need to have my say!” However, none of that has happened.

However, there was a day. One day, when I was able to get a small fraction of revenge.

It had been about a week since he left,  trashed my apartment, and left me with no way to pay rent. I was still hurt, mad, and bitter. His mother was useless. Telling me he was at a youth camp providing service to teens in need. Please. Your son was most likely a cause of many teens being in need.

I was alone in the apartment. Feeling sorry for myself and still having so many unanswered questions. Reliving the past year of my life. The abuse.

The thing is, the emotional abuse is so much worse than the physical. A black eye? Easy, you ice it, makeup becomes your best friend. Bruises on your arms, you wear long sleeve shirts! Being called a whore, fat, worthless, that stays with you.

This moment in the apartment, when I was left to my own devices, was a turning point for me. I slowly turned my pity party into anger. Anger with both myself, and T. I needed revenge. I knew that I had to have some kind of “F you” but because I had no idea where T was, I was limited on my resources, I just knew that for once, I had to do something for me. Right or wrong, I had to do something for me….and I did.

It will come to no surprise to anyone reading this that T had a couple of warrants out on him. It will also come as no surprise that more often than not, he would have a weapon on him. Even though I had no idea where he was, if he was still even in Wa. I knew his routine. His daily routine. I had nothing to lose, but so much to gain.

I made the call to the non emergency police number. I remained anonymous, and informed them I have some information on someone who has a few warrants out. At exactly 6:05 I knew he would be at the bus station picking up his mother. The same woman who looked down on me because I was not an Islander. The same woman who kicked Christin and I out of her house because she did not want her friends to see the white girls. My mind-set, “yeah, let this bitch see her son get locked up.”

The police asked if he had a weapon on him. “Oh, I am pretty sure you can count on that!” They wanted his social and license plate number. My parents did not raise a fool (although this particular blog may not be the best to showcase that.) I had it all, his social, his license plate number, I had it all. Happily, I provided them with everything they needed.

Of course the police could provide me no information on what their plan of action would be. I just knew. It was a feeling, I knew this would be my only moment, and I had to act on it. I made arrangements with Alphonso to keep an eye on the boys. There was no way I could tell Alphonso what I was doing. He would either talk me out of it, or would want to tag along. I had to do this on my own.

At 5:45 I was at the bus station. I parked my car in a secluded area while giving myself a perfect view of the buss’ entering the station, and I waited.

5:55 I saw T’s car. I saw him park in his usual spot. He got out, smoked a cigarette, just like I knew he would, while waiting for his mother. Many times before, I would be sitting with him in the passenger seat while waiting for the bus. This time, this time it would be different.

I do not remember the exact time, but it happened. Three police cars circled him, with two more in the distance. He tried to fight, there was no way. They frisked him and lo and behold, there was something in his back pocket. I am assuming the gun. Even watching this go down, a part of me was scared. I had visions of him looking up and seeing me there. Those feelings were quickly over shadowed by feelings of a small victory. “Yeah asshole, you may have won the battles, but I am winning this war.”

As soon as I saw the police drive away with him in the back of the car, I knew I was good. I did not care what would happen to him, or his mother. Both of them put me through hell, and although it may sound petty to a select few, I needed this moment. It was my moment, and no one was going to take it away from me.

I saw his mother coming off of the bus just as T was being put in the police car.

No regrets.

I made it back to the apartment feeling like I had my closure. As soon as Alphonso saw me, he knew something was different.

“Where were you, what’s going on? I know something is going on!”

I just gave him my cute, “something is up” Jen smile.

“I really cannot leave you alone can I?”

The boys were asleep, Alphonso and I took our drinks outside on that unusually cool July night, and I told him everything.

A night I will never forget.

 

Christin

So we have received a lot of feedback from readers in the last couple months. Some from people that know us personally and some from complete stranger that live across the country. Some feedback has been good, some not so good but there is one thing for certain—we read everything. We do this because it makes us better writers as well as allows us to see things from different perspectives. I think this is key in allowing us to grow as writers but also as people. So here are few messages we have received. I will be changing names so those people can remain anonymous. I encourage anyone who has any thoughts—good or bad—to send us an email or message.

Vodkacalling,
I came across your blog on the Vodkacalling.com website. I just wanted to tell you how much I have enjoyed reading both of your interpretations on your life experiences. I did however, have a question. I’m a little older so forgive me if I am missing something, but Alphonso and Pat were in a relationship? I’m not quite understanding this.
Sincerely,
Norma

Norma,
Thanks for reading the blog! I’m so glad you are enjoying it. Yes, you read that right. After Pat left the apartment, Alphonso and he had a relationship. They lived together for a few months and Alphonso even helped take care of Pat’s daughter. Trust me, this was just as surprising to Jen and I when we found out what was going on. I mean we all knew Alphonso was gay as it is very obvious but with Pat, the “gaydar” wasn’t going off—at least for Jen and me. But we are always the last to know everything! After everything was over between them, Alphonso’s heart was broken. I don’t believe he was ever the same after that. Thanks for writing in Norma.
Always,
Vodkacalling

Here is another reader from Florida. She told me a little bit about a situation she had been in recently. I want to keep parts of her email anonymous as to not put her information on blast so I had to edit it a bit.

Dear Jennifer and Christin,
I recently found myself in a similar situation with my roommates. One of my roommates never pays the bills on time and the other one comes in at all times of the night. I’m not sure how to handle this and don’t want to create problems with either one of them. What is a piece of advice you could give me when dealing with them?
From—Whitney in Florida

Whitney, Thanks for reading the blog. I can tell you WHAT NOT TO DO regarding your roommates. I never really expressed to Jen or Alphonso how I was really feeling—the middle of the night parties while I was trying to sleep, the late rent/utility payments, the endless amounts of people in and out of the apartment—those things all built up over several months which led me to feel resentful. I’m not saying I was a perfect roommate, I assure you I wasn’t the best at cleaning or organization but I tried. At least I think I did. Anyways, I think communication is key when you are living with people. If there is something wrong—SPEAK UP–. You have to live there to so it is your right. I know from experience that if you don’t speak up and let the anger build up, there will be hurt feelings. When I left the apartment, I was not on good terms with Jen and Alphonso. I didn’t know when I walked out of that apartment with my last box if I would ever speak with them again. So, say something and set boundaries. These things will go a long way when having roommates. And if that fails, kick them out and get new roommates!
Regards,
Vodkacalling

One of our faithful readers from Kentucky wanted to know more about a specific situation from the beginning of the blog. I couldn’t give too much information because there will be more about this person in upcoming blogs.

Vodkacalling,
What ever happened to the boyfriend from the beginning? I think his name was Freddy. Did ya’ll ever meet up again?
Holly from Louisville, Kentucky

Hi Holly from Kentucky—
I can’t give you a whole lot of information on Freddie at the moment. You will have to stay tuned to see how that situation unfolds—but what I can tell you is that it becomes unbelievably complicated and confusing at times. I will also tell you that sometimes things are not meant to work out and sometimes they are! Grab your Kleenex and popcorn because this will be some good stuff!

Thanks,
Christin (Vodkacalling)

Ok, here’s one question we get a lot. Everybody wants to know if we found Alphonso. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you should read from the BEGINNING!) So here is just one of many readers inquiring about the whereabouts of our good friend Alphonso.
Hey ladies,
I was just wondering if you ever found Alphonso. If so, where is he and what is he doing now?
Terry from Montana

Thanks Terry for reading our blog and writing in. I can’t give too much away about Alphonso but what I can say is that if you keep reading, the case of missing Alphonso will be investigated further. If there is one thing Jen and I do well, it’s finding people, places and things. So stay tuned and keep reading!
Thanks,
Vodkacalling

’’Strangers waiting
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlights, people
Livin’ just to find emotion
Hidin’ somewhere in the night
Working hard to get my fill
Everybody wants a thrill
Payin’ anything to roll the dice
Just one more time
Some will win, some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on, and on, and on’’

Jennifer

In a few short days, it will be two months since Christin and I started writing together. It has been quite the ride, with much more to come.

I wanted to take this time to address a few things. The writing, that’s the easy part. The feed-back. Not-so-much. Both Christin and I have been blocked by a few people on social media. My only guess is they know their turn is coming and they want to back out while they can.

The hardest part, for me, and I feel comfortable to say Christin too, is having our family read all the dirty details. Speaking for myself, my family knew the very small basics. Basics being I was in a relationship with a guy who had “a little bit of anger issues.”

I am very good at hiding things, (Right, Family? Right?!) At this point in my life, this small two year period, I did not want my family to know the details. I am stubborn like that!

There was a time when T and I were having a pretty bad fight, and I called my sister. My sister got on the phone to try to calm T down, but that was the most of it. I was so good at saying “Oh, everything is fine. How are you?”

My mother called me the other day after reading one of the post. “Jennifer, I feel I failed you as a mother.” After I scolded her for reading the blog, when I told her numerous of time to NOT read the blog, I tried to explain to her that she did not fail me. For a very brief period in time, I failed myself.

I want to make it clear that I know without a doubt I could have called any one of my family members at any give time, and they would have come to save me, and most likely put a certain someone in a body bag. The thing is, I knew eventually, I would save myself. (We are not quite there yet in the blog, but it is coming!)

Christin and I started this writing process while we were trying to locate Alphonso. The third person in our little trio of a family. In the “just under two months” period, we have gotten some great feed back, some not so good, but most importantly, we found a piece of ourselves that we did not quite know was missing, until we found it.

This is for us, Christin

 

Christin

’’Made a wrong turn, once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that’s alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss “No way, it’s all good”, it didn’t slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated
Look, I’m still around’’

Everyone has a story. It may be good, bad or a little of both but it is your story that makes up who are and who you have become. This is what prompted Jen and me to write about our stories. As you have read, sometimes our stories are hard to hear. They maybe unflattering and raw—but they are honest.
For me, I have chosen to write about these things because for so long they were the shameful and not-so-proud moments of my life. These experiences that I kept hidden and buried left me feeling broken and somewhat embarrassed about the choices that I made.

But now, when I write about these sometimes painful and shockingly naïve times in my life, I try to embrace the lesson, experience and even the humor. I think being able to laugh at yourself is very cathartic. Often times, Jen and I will be on the phone, talking about our next blog and we will be laughing because the experiences that we have been through are so utterly ridiculous and unbelievable that we can’t help but to find the humor.
I know everyone can relate to this and I hope that you can find peace in your past, no matter how crazy or painful. What you have been through doesn’t define you. We have a lot more to write about and believe it or not– it gets better! We will be taking a small break from the blog to answer some questions from some of our readers. Also, I’d like to give shout out to Alphonso for dropping off the face of the earth and starting this whole thing.

Thank-you for reading our Apartment B-303 series and don’t forget to stay tuned to find out how our friendships and our lives unravel.

“You’re so mean, when you talk about yourself, you were wrong
Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead
So complicated, look how big, you’ll make it
Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game
It’s enough! I’ve done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons, I’ve seen you do the same”

Jennifer

“Yeah, I know nobody knows
Where it comes and where it goes
I know it’s everybody’s sin
You got to lose to know how to win”

 

T leaving me the way he did broke me down. I had no money. The little bit of material things I owned were ruined, along with my self-worth.

Any normal person would be out celebrating. Not me. I could not function. Every little thing was a reminder. Whether it be a song on the radio, a movie, even going to work. It was all a reminder.

A reminder to me that I was not good enough. A reminder to me that I allowed someone to physically abuse me, and in the end I was not even strong enough to leave. He left me.

A reminder to me that I do not have that “strong woman success story.” He left me, for reasons that I will never know, and that hurts.

Everybody was always leaving, and I never knew why.

My friends and co-workers were ecstatic. I had my managers come up and congratulate me when the news got out that we broke up. The person he cheated on me with even told me “yeah, he was no good for you.”

I am so glad I had this skank to tell me he was no good for me. That just made my day.

As the days and weeks went on, I decided to call his mother. The same woman who would call him to come over to change a light bulb. The same woman who never thought I was good enough for her son because I was a “white girl.” She was about as helpful as a rock. I could hear in her voice the happiness she felt in between her pathetic lies. “Oh,my son at youth camp.”

Bullshit. If there was one thing her son taught me was how to spot a liar.

She was no help, and deep inside I knew she would not be. I was just grasping, grasping for any reason, for any glimpse of hope that it was not me.

I pushed through days. Hoping that very soon I would wake up one morning and not question myself, or blame myself.

Then, on the day I least expected,

I woke up.

 

“Sing with me just for today

Maybe tomorrow, the good lord will take you away”

Christin

There was a knock on the door one evening. It was Alphonso and all of his stuff. He looked defeated and tired. He came in and put his stuff down. I asked him what happened between him and Pat. He didn’t want to talk about it. So, I left it at that.

The apartment became super crowded. T, Jen and Vinnie in one room, me in another and Alphonso was on the couch. He wasn’t too happy about that but he also didn’t have a job at the moment, so his complaints were unfounded as far as I was concerned. With tension already in the apartment, Alphonso coming back just added fuel to the fire.

T and Alphonso didn’t like each other for obvious reasons. Alphonso had an attitude when he came back from Yakima which rubbed everyone the wrong way. Jen and I didn’t see eye to eye on anything related to T. So there it was. We were all living together but we all needed our own space.

Soon after Alphonso came back he got his job back at Wal-Mart. It was the 1st of the month and rent was due.

“Alphonso, we need to pay rent”

“I am not paying all of my part of rent because one of my cd’s is missing”

I don’t know what pissed me off more. Him insinuating that I stole his CD or him refusing to pay all of his rent. I had done nothing but help him out and he had the audacity to do this. And now I would have to pay whatever rent he didn’t want to pay. When the truth was he probably spent it on an expensive bag or make-up. I was done. This was the last straw.

My friend Shawn had asked me if I wanted to move into her house. It was just her and she needed to rent out a room to make the mortgage. This was my way out and I didn’t waste any time. I went down to the apartment office and took my name off the lease. That was a huge relief. I wasn’t going to be responsible for anything from here on out. If Alphonso didn’t want to pay rent then at least I wasn’t going to have to deal with it. If T was punching holes throughout the apartment, I wouldn’t have to worry about it.

I didn’t realize how stressful the situation had become until I was gone. I told Jen and Alphonso I was moving out. I think they sensed my frustration and understood why. It didn’t matter if they did or didn’t, I was leaving regardless of how they felt. Nobody had cared how I felt so why should I care. I packed my stuff and box by box I loaded it into my car. Everyone was gone while I moved each box. There was no goodbye. There was no see you later. Nothing. I couldn’t move my stuff out any faster. I couldn’t get away any faster. I drove away and never looked back. Too much was said and done to be taken back.

Fast forward three months… I hadn’t really talked to Jen and Alphonso. We would say Hi in passing at work. An occasional few minutes of small talk here and there at work. But that was it. I heard through the grapevine that T and Jen had broken up. I didn’t know the details and quite frankly I didn’t care about them. But when I did hear that they did break up, I felt a moment of relief. I knew that she wouldn’t have to deal with his crazy ass anymore.

After the breakup, I noticed a huge change in Jen. I almost didn’t recognize her. She wasn’t wearing make-up anymore. She looked like the walking dead with dark circles under her eyes. One day I overheard her talking to another coworker in the bathroom. She didn’t know I was listening to her conversation. She was crying.

“I can’t believe he left me…he left me with nothing. Now what am I supposed to do?!”

She was a mess. I wanted to reach out but didn’t know how. Even though I didn’t leave on the greatest terms with Jen and Alphonso, that didn’t mean that I didn’t wish them the best and want them to be happy. Because I did.

Sometimes pride gets in the way. And maybe that was it. I let my pride get in the way.

”So gather up your jackets, and move it to the exits I hope you have found a friend.

Closing Time,

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.’’

Jennifer

Three months later.

I just wanted to be hugged. I wanted to feel safe and secure in someones arms. Not in a sexual way, not in a “family” way. I just needed to feel safe from someone who I did not owe anything to, someone who cared about me because of me. I craved to feel protected, from someone who was not going to blindside me.

It was an early Thursday morning. On this particular day, I was working the early shift. I am sitting on the edge of bed, while T is starting to get up. He was going to jump in the shower while I got the baby ready. We would drop Vinnie off at daycare. T would then drop me off at work, run his errands, and then pick me up at 4. Except, something was off.

As soon as he got up, I saw there was a  wad of cash laying on the bed. As if it had fallen out of his pocket. He is in the bathroom that is connected to the master bedroom. He could not see me, but I could see him. I looked at this stack of cash, all 100 dollar bills. My gut instinct was to take it. Take it and hide it and keep my mouth shut. Instead what happened was, he came out of the bathroom and I gave him the cash. “Oh, this must have fallen out of your pocket?”

He grabbed it, went to take his shower and shut the door. I assumed since it was the first of the month, it was for rent.

The morning went as planned. We dropped the baby off at daycare, he dropped me off at work. He gave me a hug and told me he would pick me up at 4.

At 3 o’clock, I was in the backroom working the freight. A co worker from the service desk came to the backroom and gave me the car keys. “T said to give these to you, something came up and he cannot pick up your son.”

Something was not right. I talked to my boss, got permission to get off early. I had an hour before I needed to pick up Vinnie . I drove home in the hopes that maybe T was just tired and taking a nap.

The apartment was trashed. All of my belongings were scattered everywhere. All of my cd’s were sprawled across the floor. My movies were gone. My clothes were at the bottom of the closet, and his clothes were gone.

There was no trace of T anywhere.

He left me.

I racked my brain trying to figure out why. I did everything right. I put up with his abuse, I put up with his cheating, I put up with so much, just to be loved in the way I thought I needed to be loved. It was all in vain, because at the end of the day, he left me.

And I never saw him again.