Diva Diaries (45 page)

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Authors: Janine A. Morris

BOOK: Diva Diaries
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108
For Life
I
t was about 8:00 P.M., and Jordan was just getting home from work. Jayon and Elizabeth were both out of the office that day, and she'd had a pretty busy day there alone. As she was driving up to her house, she realized that some of her lights were on. She didn't know for sure, but she figured she'd left some lights on when she'd left the house earlier. She parked her Jeep, got her stuff out of the backseat, and walked up to her door.
When she walked in her house, the living room lights were on, and the rest of them were off. She couldn't tell if the motion sensor had turned the light on in the kitchen or if it was already on. She left them all on, figuring she would be going back downstairs when she was done changing. She walked upstairs to her bedroom and kicked her beige Jimmy Choo shoes off and put her beige Her-mès bag on the chair. She removed the clip from her hair, letting her hair fall. She started to scratch her head vigorously—it felt so good to loosen her hair after it had been tied up so tight all day. Then she started to remove her jewelry when she heard a noise. When she turned around, Omar was standing there. He was just standing dead smack in the middle of her doorway. From the look on his face, he wasn't very happy.
She looked at him, and instantly she knew something wasn't right.
“Omar, what are you doing here? And where is Jason?”
“You don't care where Jason is,” he said.
“Are you OK, Omar?” she asked.
“Am I OK? Are
you
OK?”
“I'm fine—just a little surprised to see you here.”
She was trying to remain calm because she could tell that Omar was not there for a friendly visit. She never changed the locks on the door because she never felt there was a need to. She never thought Omar even wanted to come over, let alone pop up unexpectedly.
“Where's your boyfriend?”
“Omar ... where is Jason?”
“He is with my mother—where's your boyfriend?”
She didn't want to answer that question, so she just continued to remove her jewelry. Her heart was beating a hundred times per minutes—she didn't know what was going on. She was supposed to be happy to see Omar—she hadn't seen him in months. He always had someone drop Jason off and he was never home when she came to get him. She had been wanting to have a grown-up conversation or see Omar and just give him a hug for a long time, but now that the opportunity was here, it didn't seem like the time.
“Are you having sex with him?” Omar asked out of nowhere.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“Don't fucking play deaf! ARE YOU HAVING SEX WITH HIM?”
Omar was not himself, and he seemed to be pissed off about something. Unfortunately, it was a surprise to her because she didn't know what.
“No, I'm not,” she said, not looking at him.
“You're a lying bitch, you know that ...”
From his response, she could tell that this wasn't going anywhere good. Omar was probably drunk and angry. She tried to calm him down, but he was just yelling and being really crazy and upset.
“Did you let another man inside of you Jordan?”
“No.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“Why are you doing this, Omar? Since when do you care?”
“Don't play stupid with me—we have been together fourteen years! Don't give me that,
I didn't think you cared
shit ... did you sleep with him?”
“You and I weren't together,” she said.
“Not together? Not together? You see this right here?” Omar struggled to get his wedding ring off his finger.
“ 'Til death do us part, remember?” he said, and he threw the ring at her. She was already on the verge of tears when he first started asking her, but when he threw the ring, she crumbled into sobs.
“Answer me, Jordan—did you let some man go inside my wife?”
She just cried—she couldn't get words out of her mouth.
He knew the truth. He knew deep down, and he was reacting from the truth that he already knew and really couldn't bear to hear.
He let out a loud noise and punched the wall. “I don't believe this shit! You're gonna answer my damn question,” he said as he approached her quickly.
“Lie down,” he said.
“What?”
“You heard me, lie down!”
“Omar, no. Please—just go,” she said with tears running down her face.
“Jordan—lay your ass down!”
He gave her a look she had never seen in Omar's eyes before. In all the years she'd known this man, this wasn't the Omar she knew. She felt fear. Omar was at a point of rage she had never seen in him before, and she didn't know what he would do. She laid down to keep from infuriating him any further.
He began to remove her pants and it felt like a dream, or rather, a nightmare. In her mind she thought she was doubting that he could possibly be doing what it seemed he was doing—until she felt him remove her panties. Her body was tense, and she had curled her legs up, trying to make it harder for him, but it just made him rougher. She cried and asked him to stop. He said he wanted to see if someone else had had sex with her. He began to probe inside of her as he asked, “Did you let someone else in here? Tell me the truth, Jordan! I just want to know the damn truth!” he said, sounding like a crazed madman.
“Omar, stop! Please stop,” she begged as tears rolled down her face.
“Not until you tell me the truth,” he replied.
Finally, her weak body and broken spirit said, “Yes! ... Yes, I did.”
“Yes?” he said, surprised, as he paused.
“Yes,” she repeated through her sobs.
“You slept with him?” he asked as if he needed to verify what she had said.
“Yes, I slept with him.”
She felt his body tense up, as he reached and put his arm around her neck and started to choke her. “You let another man inside of you, Jordan?”
She tried to remove his arms from around her neck. He just continued yelling, “How could you, you fucking whore? After all these years, you do this to me—you sleep with your so-called fucking best friend.”
As he loosened up on her neck slightly, just enough for her to wheeze some air, he started to pull his self out of his pants. It almost felt like it was all not really happening, someone was going to pinch her at any moment and wake her up. She could smell the liquor on his breath, but didn't recognize the look in his eyes.
He had removed his hands from around her neck, and he started having sex with her. She said nothing. Her spirit was broken and she was afraid.
“I am your husband. You were supposed to have sex with me, no other man. But you had to run out and be a whore—you just couldn't be alone—right, Jordan?”
He asked her this as he repeatedly thrust his manhood inside her worn-down body. She had stopped trying. She just lay there, waiting for this torture to be over.
Her cell phone rang, and it was attached to her pants buckle that he had just removed and still had on the bed. Omar grabbed it, and looked in the Caller ID. It was Jayon.
“What the fuck do you want with my wife, Jayon?” he said as he answered the phone.
“Omar?”
“Yeah, Omar. What do you want? I'm in the middle of making love to my wife—she can't talk right now.”
Then he hung up.
She probably should have screamed, yelled for help, but she didn't have it in her. She didn't want to piss Omar off any more, and she didn't want to involve Jayon. This was her mess—nobody else should have to deal with the consequences.
Omar continued on as if that awkward phone call didn't even occur. He was getting his revenge on her and Jayon. Making her feel like a slut, and trying to show Jayon that he had control.
She just lay there, waiting for it to be over and to be able to run to Jayon so he could console her and make it all better. She didn't know how he would feel, knowing Omar had been back inside of her. She just cried. What had she done?
“Whose is this?” Omar asked her.
When he saw she wasn't replying, he pulled her hair real hard and then put his hand back around her throat and repeated the question.
“Whose is this?”
“Yours,” she said. “All yours.”
A few strokes later, he ejaculated. He didn't even pull out—he came inside of her with no regard.
“That's right, mine. And don't you ever forget it,” he said as he got up from the bed and fixed his pants.
She didn't get up until she heard him walk down the stairs and out of the door.
109
About That Time
N
o one could believe it, and Jordan couldn't quite tell it.
The night it happened she called only Jayon and her mother. Jayon came right over, and her mother wanted to as well. Jordan told her Jayon was with her, and she didn't want her to let her dad know, so she should stay home. She put the bolt lock on the door, reset the password, and put the alarm on. She wasn't scared of the Omar she knew, but she was of the Omar who had just left her house.
Jayon was very upset, and although she was sure he had a million thoughts and questions, he just lay with her in the bed, letting her cry. It was hard for him, because at the end of the day, Omar was her husband. It was almost understandable what he was going through. She believed that it was the liquor. She knew Omar was going to wake up the next day pretending to be oblivious to what he did, and just say he was sorry.
Which he did, the very next day at about noon. When he called, she didn't answer—she was home with Jayon. They had both taken the day off. Omar left a message apologizing.
“I can't even believe what I am remembering about last night. I'm hoping some of it is not real. If even any of it really happened last night—PLEASE call me. I AM so sorry, J. I would've never wanted to hurt you, physically or emotionally. I want to come over there but I know you don't want to see me. Please call me!”
She was angry and hurt. She felt invaded and disrespected—he made her feel like a slut. It felt crazy to be feeling this way, when Omar was still her husband. Technically, this
was
still his. He just handled everything so terribly, and although she knew he was under the influence, it was no excuse.
She knew she could send Omar to jail over this, but she didn't want to. Chrasey and Dakota were pissed off, but they understood why she didn't want to take it there. Her mother told her to call the cops, get his black behind put in jail. She had to explain to her and Jayon that he is the father of her child—why would she want to do that to her son? These were her and his father's problems—they would have to resolve them without hurting Jason. He would never forgive her. Besides, a piece of her knew that was Omar's pain surfacing. She knew, because hers surfaced periodically, and she knew how it felt to just want to do something, or to change things. Last night was just Omar trying to feel in control again. He had called three times today—this was the man who wouldn't take her calls, so it was clear he knew he had messed up. He was probably worried she was going to press charges, and she was sure he really felt bad about what he did.
Dakota was telling her how thankful she should be that she was on the pill. The last thing Jordan wanted was to get pregnant and not know who the daddy was. That was before she told her she wasn't on the pill. She had been on and off of them, trying to find the right one for her, and this month she was off. Dakota didn't even have a response to that information. They wanted to call Jordan silly and stupid for taking those risks. She explained to them that she and Jayon were careful and barely sleeping together; she wasn't expecting to be raped.
She didn't bother to call Omar back until late that next day; he was home and answered her call immediately. First, he let her talk to Jason, as if that would remind her of their big picture. She missed her baby, and it was great to hear his voice. She didn't want to have an emotional breakdown on the phone with him, so she hurried and asked to speak to Omar. She didn't even argue or yell or anything—she remained very calm. He asked her some questions, and she answered calmly. He apologized over and over, and explained he had come over to talk, and when he was there, he saw pictures of Jayon and he got upset. He had already been drinking, but while he waited he had a drink or two from their bar. He said he never intended to get that drunk, and never intended to argue with her or hurt her.
Omar was never violent like that—not toward her at least. She believed he didn't mean to do what he did. Still, it was done, and this buried them even more. As much as he didn't mean it, would he understand what it felt like to be ungently finger-fucked or forced to have sex while you're hysterically crying? He wouldn't, and every time she remembered it, it would be his face and his liquored breath she would remember. Not something that was going to be forgotten. So she just told him not to worry, she wasn't pressing charges, and she made sure he knew it had a lot to do with Jason. She also told him that the divorce papers would be in the mail the next day. He asked her once not to do that, and repeated that he was sorry. She told him one more time to look out for the papers, sign them, and send them back. Then she ended the phone call.
More than anything she just wanted to put last night behind her and out of her memory.

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