Blinded by Color

Chapter 32 Slim

I haven't been sober in years, and being in here, in this 8x8 cell, has given me sobriety. Now, I am forced to face my demons and not drink them away. I've made my mistakes, and I now have to own up to them. I must face the fact that my husband's blood is on my hands. My brother is in jail because of me. I not only ruined my life, but now I also ruined his. He lost his career as a police officer, and his wife has filed for divorce. His children will not have their daddy to grow up loving and looking up to as a hero cop but rather a man who killed their uncle. I guess we all make choices we have to live with. That night when I went out with my Tony, I thought about how much I loved him and how we grew up together. I could not figure out when the connection was lost. When did he fall out of love with me enough to sleep with another woman? I felt betrayed. I had to wake up every day and play with our two children and clean our house and cook dinner all the while he was playing house with another woman. A secret love affair. An affair that equaled a baby. Not just a baby but a mixed child. We were never raised to talk to niggers. In our time growing up, they were considered less than us. We did not associate with blacks, and they did not associate with us. How did we go from such a beautiful love story to such a hellacious ending? It's strange how you think this kind of drama will never come to find you or your family. You think how someone else is crazy for what they did. I was that person too. I felt that there was no way I could kill someone or be responsible for having someone killed.

Tony and I had a beautiful marriage; we never argued or mistreated each other. He was my high school sweetheart, for crying out loud. I loved that man with every being inside me. Tony was more than just my husband, more than just a father to our beloved babies, but also my best friend. My only friend. He never lied to me, or so I thought until this happened. Tony and I were just two young kids who fell in love and wanted to live happily ever after with each other. The thing is, our families were close, and we attended all the dances together. We spent every holiday together, and I was there front and center cheering him on at every football game. We were inseparable. That was my lifeline.

When I fell pregnant the first time with Kayla, I thought about how wonderful it was to share with him our first child. A girl! I knew Tony would be the best father ever, and this would be his little princess. We had a maternity shoot done, and I just felt like the world was all but gone and Tony and I were the only ones left. It was magical. A memory for the baby book that showed how much Mommy and Daddy loved their baby girl. When I gave birth to Kayla, he was right there holding my hand and pushing my sweaty hair off my forehead to give me a kiss. He was in awe of her, and I was in awe of them both. He picked her name. He said he loved K names and wanted to have a little girl with a beautiful K name. When he held her, he just stared like she was the most precious thing in life. He looked up at me and smiled in my dim hospital room. "Kayla," he whispered. "Kayla," I repeated, and that was her name. I knew they would have that bond that people dream of, and she was born to be a daddy's girl. I had no idea that at the time, Tony had already had his first kid; he had already experienced this moment with another woman. He had a baby girl, and this was his second time around. I was there draped in a hospital gown doped up on pain meds, thinking we just shared the birth of our first child. The one thing a girl dreamed about. The perfect family. I was wrong. I was alone in my excitement and hope for another child. Tony was already a father, and we didn't share anything special that day. It hurt my soul to find out he had a kid without my knowledge. He kept her a secret. He cheated.

I fell pregnant two years later and found out it was a boy. I was ecstatic, and Tony was as well. We both couldn't wait to decorate the baby's room and prep little Kayla for the big sister role. We ate ice cream that day after we found out it was a boy. I remember thinking, how perfect, we have a girl and a boy; life was complete. I found myself in pure harmony with Tony and our little family. All these pictures of us together like we were the model family. I was proud of my husband for how hard he worked in the finance world, and I thought I owed it to him to be the best wife. I stayed home to care for our kids. Jerimiah took to me like a natural momma's boy. He was my little ride or die. My kids were amazing. My life was amazing. I was never stressed about money. I never worried about much because Tony was a provider. A good one at that. He always made sure we were good. I just wanted him home more. I was struggling to survive being a mother alone. I had postpartum depression, and Tony was becoming more successful while I was becoming more unattractive. I was constantly changing diapers, cleaning, doing laundry, and the works. This did not include how much I was pumping and breastfeeding, along with never getting a shower. I felt like I was the ugliest wife, and I felt hopeless to ever be myself again. Every time Tony came home, though, he assured me I was gorgeous. He brought me flowers and gifts. He told me he missed me and loved me more than life. He played with our children and gave me a much-needed break to clean myself up. He failed to mention it was all a lie. He was really with his first daughter Tiffany. His precious Tiffany, whom he kept a secret from all of us. He liked playing house with two families, and I had no idea. I was so preoccupied with being a mother and father while he was gone, I didn't notice anything else. I missed the money coming out of the bank account unaccounted for and the late-night calls. I missed the random trips that came out of nowhere, and now I know they were for Tiffany's recitals. I missed it all. I was in a haze taking care of my children and our house. I thought I had it all. I thought I had won the lottery.

How do you accept that your husband has now had an affair? I could not sleep; I could not eat. I felt sick all the time. I no longer felt the love in my heart I once had being a mother. I felt betrayed and mislead and taken advantage of by the man I gave my life to. Here I was struggling to wake up in the morning with two little kids in the house, and he was in Chicago watching a dance recital. The sheer agony I felt was unbearable. My heart no longer felt whole. When I finally felt the strength to come clean to my family, I leaned on Rodney, my big brother, my savior.

Growing up, Rodney never let anyone mistreat me. We were inseparable as kids. He was my best friend. I never had to worry about a broken heart or ride to the mall as Rodney made sure I got whatever I wanted. He spoiled me so much that my momma used to say no man could compare. Well, no man, that was till I met Tony. Tony and Rodney hit it off right away. They both played football for our high school, and together, they made the team complete. They were always drinking together and laughing, fooling around like men do. The night I had to tell Rodney, I didn't know whose side he would take. I was nervous for the first time ever to talk to my brother. I knew how much he loved Tony! His reaction was all the same as it had been in years past. He gave me a hug and wiped my tears, and his first words were, "I'm gonna kill that bastard," but I told him no, I would figure it out and let me take care of it. He was always there for me, and this time, he would prevail like he always had. I cried night after night, imagining my husband running to the door to pick up his little girl. His brown-skinned little girl with a curly afro. I stopped being able to feel. I was numb all the time. The pain was a constant heartbreak I had to endure at every turn. I lost trust in my husband. I lost everything I knew and worked for and loved. I lost my family. I guess I could have walked away, got a divorce, prayed, and hoped for enough child support to survive, but I knew I wouldn't make it. I could not take seeing Tony with our kids and me not being there. I could not bear to see him married to another woman, living happily ever after. He was successful and had a career most would die for, and I had nothing. I had Tony, and I had Tony's income, and Tony's other kids! Not his first-born child but his later children. He was already accustomed to being a dad by then. I was the only one who was new to being a parent. I felt the hate creep up inside of me and dwell like a bad taste you can't get rid of, and I knew, I knew I wanted him to die. My rage was taking over my body, and just the look of him made me wish he were gone. I called Rodney late one night, and we planned the whole thing. It was easy since Rodney was a new detective and had inside information to crime scene analysis. I trusted him. I followed his every move to act as if I were working towards making things right. This was not an easy task. I had to pretend harder than ever. I had to be a woman I despised, the one who ran back to her cheating husband. I felt dirty. I felt like his touch made my stomach turn, and knots formed all over it. I played the game, though. I followed through on a romantic dinner to ensure I had an alibi. I was an all-or-nothing type of girl. I had committed, and that was it. After it was done, Rodney called me to confirm he was killed. He explained to me how he and my brother Ben beat him to a bloody pulp and then shot him. They left him for dead. It was an easy target because I made sure to get Tony drunk and then send him to the store. The rest I left up to Rodney. I did not need any more details. I just woke up empty. My husband was murdered. I made that happen, and I had to tell my kids their dad was dead. I had to pretend to be sad and cry for the news and media that poured in over a small-town murder. I got nervous, it got more attention than I anticipated, but Rodney told me to play cool and explained it would blow over. Oddly enough, he was right. In a few months, it was like no one even cared or remembered the name Tony Gray. I never heard from the whore he slept with or that illegitimate child he made. I just collected the life insurance through his job and drank away all the pain I never dealt with. The dark secret that lurked around every corner. I could not be a mother to my children. They reminded me of Tony. I could not stand the look on their faces when they cried for that monster. I wanted to tell them; I wanted them to hate him too. I was in a bubble, and nothing mattered anymore. Not my kids, not my life, not anything. I hate who I've become, and I know my kids will probably never forgive me or understand it, but I wrote them both letters. I explained everything in hopes of some empathy. I want to fix this and make things right. I am hoping to get off with lesser chargers and get out of here in time to meet my grandchildren. Should I ever have any. I have nothing but time now... Nothing but sober, quiet, time.