Marriage Mayhem (25 page)

“I told you that my niece called on me, nigga, and I'm here to handle my muthafuckin' business,” Bobby yelled, feeling victorious.

Bobby and Jewell had decided to spend that night with Jasmine, ensuring that she would not encounter any problems with Raymond.

The following day, Jasmine had secretly phoned Raymond, apologized to him, and then asked him to come back home.

Marvin had begun to look for love and acceptance from the wrong type of people, which soon led him to indulge in criminal activities. Growing up without a father or a positive role model had affected Marvin to a point where at times he punched windows with his bare hand, cursed his teachers, and started fights with other students for no apparent reason. That was his way of releasing anger.

Because Jewell and Bobby took him in, Bobby had taken him under his wing and taught him street survival tactics. Being from South Central Los Angeles, Bobby knew the streets well and knew how to deal with street people. Under the leadership and guidance of Bobby, Marvin began lifting weights at the age of ten and by the time he became a teenager he was muscular, strong, and built like the Incredible Hulk. The average kid his age did not stand a chance of beating him in a fight.

Marvin earned his reputation as a tenth grader after simultaneously beating the hell out of three twelfth graders.

Because of his mean look and muscular build, students, teachers, and faculty members feared him.

Marvin looked up to Jermaine and admired him, until Bobby's jealousy of Jermaine influenced him differently.

“That nigga ain't your real father, man!” Bobby had said to Marvin. “Fuck that nigga! Just because he give you a few hundred dollars every now and then doesn't mean that he give a fuck about you! Don't get that twisted, nigga! If I were you, I would just use him like a tool, to get what I need! If you need a pair of shoes, or a suit and limo for the prom, if you wanna take your girl out and need some money, or if you need a car, then holler at that nigga, you know what I'm sayin'? Think of him as a free money source, that way you won't get things twisted, my little nigga!” explained Bobby.

Marvin had always listened to and obeyed his Uncle Bobby in fear of being rejected by him, or being called harsh names like a punk bitch, a scary, weak, or a stupid muthafucka. Bobby had no shame in calling anyone bad names. Bobby suggested that Marvin hang around him to prepare himself for the streets.

When Bobby first met Jermaine, he envied him instantly, especially after Jermaine revealed all of the positive things that were going on in his life. After finding out that Bobby was a mechanic and also washed cars for people who lived in the neighborhood, Jermaine had asked him how much he would charge to wash his Beamer and his other two vehicles. Bobby had told him that he didn't feel like working at the moment.

A normal day for Bobby consisted of having a bunch of homeboys over drinking beer, listening to loud rap music, smoking weed, lifting weights, and talking about street occurrences.

Marvin had never been enthused about being a gang member, but because he lived in a neighborhood where Bloods ruled, he associated himself with them.

There were times when he thought about the sevenhundred-and-fifty-dollar disability check that Jewell and Bobby received each month for him, which would really tear him apart. He was aware that they used his check to pay their bills and to purchase clothes and gifts for their own kids, and it was time that he spoke up and said something about it. There was so much anger built inside him for so many different reasons that he was about to burst.

He boldly approached Bobby one day.

“Uncle Bobby,” Marvin said. “I need four hundred dollars so I can go to driving school, and so I can buy me some school clothes.”

Bobby was washing a neighbor's car.

“You need what? Nigga, you better go get your ass a job at McDonald's or Jack in the Box flipping burgers or sumphin'! Ain't nobody got no money like that to be giving you! You think money grow on trees or sumphin', nigga?” said Bobby, continuing to wash the car.

Marvin then angrily neared him.

“Uncle Bobby, check this out, you and Auntie never give me more than twenty dollars when my check comes, and I ain't been saying anything about it, but now I need four hundred dollars to go to driving school and to buy me some decent clothes.”

Angrily, Bobby threw down his towel and kicked over the bucket of water, and then stood eye to eye with Marvin.

“Nigga, what part of what I said don't you understand? And for your information, punk, the money we get for you goes toward your living here, so shut the fuck up! We're the ones who have been taking care of your punk ass ever since we got you out of that damn foster home, and we deserve every muthafuckin' penny we get for you, nigga! Your fuckin' daddy ain't seen you since you were a goddamn baby, and that silly-ass mama of yours can't stop hittin' the pipe and sellin' pussy, so we're stuck with you. You should be grateful that somebody cares about you enough to let you live with them. We're the ones that's been housing you, and we're the ones who—” Marvin interrupted him.

“I need some of my money, Uncle Bobby. You can leave everybody else out of this because they don't have a thing to do with this. This is between me, you, and Auntie. Look at me; these raggedy, outdated clothes, these cheap, Pay-less tennis shoes, and this dirty T-shirt that hasn't been washed in three days. I look like a damn bum, Uncle Bobby! I'm tired of y'all fuckin' me over, Uncle Bobby! On top of that you and Auntie don't give me, Stevie, or Alexus, a damn penny of the money that Jermaine puts in an account for us! Y'all gonna have bad luck, Uncle Bobby, because y'all doin' us wrong, man! Y'all gonna be cursed, just watch and see!” Marvin said, keeping his fists balled.

The more he talked and thought about how he was being treated, the angrier he grew, but Bobby was getting even angrier.

“Nigga, you ain't been hearing a goddamn thing I been sayin', huh? I said—” Before Bobby could finish, Marvin socked him in the eye, then in the head, and then socked him hard in the mouth causing his dentures to fall out and break. The punches had come like lightning. Bobby's knees instantly buckled and he fell helplessly to the concrete as if Mike Tyson had hit him.

The speed bags that Bobby had insisted on Marvin practicing on had increased the speed of his hands so much that the average person would not see them coming.

Realizing he had knocked his uncle out cold, Marvin took off running through the apartment building until he reached the main street. Then he began walking with no particular destination. With not too many places to go, Marvin decided to sit at a local park and gather his thoughts. Minutes later, a few thugs he sometimes associated with at school and in the apartments seated themselves next to him.

After telling them what had taken place, they suggested that he join their gang. Subsequently, he was initiated by seven of them who were the so-called toughest. He was now officially a part of the ruthless Blood gang.

After the initiation they celebrated by drinking forty ounces of Olde English, smoking blunts, and listening to 2Pac on the boombox. This was actually Marvin's first time consuming alcohol or smoking weed.

There were two common things about the boys in the hood: None of them entertained positive thoughts, and all of them indulged in criminal acts one way or another.

Two days after Marvin's initiation he was handed a bag of crack and was instructed by a co-gang member to sit on some apartment steps and make sales.

“Just sit there and sip on a forty and smoke a joint or sumphin', homey. Crackheads will bring you money all day and all night long, Blood. Just hit me on my cell when you need to re-cop,” his homeboy had told him.

The gang had provided Marvin with a cell phone, a pair of tennis shoes of his choice, two new pairs of khaki pants, and five white T-shirts. In addition to that, they gave him a hundred dollars for pocket change.

Examining himself, Marvin felt good about his appearance and about being accepted. He now had the appearance of a youngster that was making money and having his way in the ghetto.

Within a month's time Marvin purchased a Cutlass, even though he did not have a license to drive. He had not returned to school since knocking out his Uncle Bobby. His days were now spent selling crack, smoking weed, drinking beer, stealing cars, and having sex with women of all ages.

His first sexual encounter had occurred one day when a crackhead woman offered him a head job in exchange for a small piece of crack. He had heard Uncle Bobby talk about how good a head job felt, and had also heard a few of his homeboys talk about head, but Tangy, a well-known Lancaster crackhead, gave him a treat that he could never forget. Since that first encounter, Marvin looked for Tangy every single day of the week. He was now addicted to head.

Within a six-month period Marvin had gotten three separate young ladies pregnant. Two of them were eleventh graders and the other was a tenth grader.

Marvin now had it all as a teenager. He was handsome, drove a nice car that had 22-inch rims and nice paint job, he sported jewelry around his neck, wrists, and on his fingers, and always had his pockets filled with money. Girls were automatically attracted to him. He had the choice of having sex with nice, clean young ladies, or being licked and sucked by crackhead women. Life was good to him.

The burning desire to know his father remained inside of Marvin regardless of his elevation in the dope game. Even though he felt like he was on top of his game, he would give it all up just to see and be with his father.

One day while at PetSmart, as Jewell was purchasing some feeder fish for her Oscars, she observed Jermaine and Sylvia checking out some exotic birds. Being the nosy type, Jewell approached them.

“Hey, Jermaine, what's up?” asked Jewell, shooting a quick glance at Sylvia. Then she diverted her attention back to Jermaine.

“How are you, Jewell?”

“I'm fine. Same ol', same ol', you know,” she replied, and then looked at Sylvia again.

“Excuse me for being so rude by not introducing you ladies. Jewell, this is my wife, Sylvia, and Sylvia, this is my friend and ex-sister-in-law, Jewell.” They shook hands and exchanged smiles.

“So, you got married again, huh?”

“Yep. I wish I would have met Sylvia years ago, then I wouldn't have had to put up with your sister,” Jermaine said, sarcastically but seriously.

“You did the right thing by finding you someone else. My sister is crazy and bad mannered and she's not about to change for anyone. You were actually the best thing that happened to her and she couldn't even see it.”

“I tried, Jewell. Lord knows that I tried. I had overextended my patience and tolerance hoping that she would change, but unfortunately it never happened. I just hope and pray that the kids will be all right, you know. It's a shame that they have to suffer behind their mother's choices and ignorance.”

“Well, it's like this Jermaine; she made her bed hard, so she's the one who has to sleep in it, that's the way I see it. My sister's mind and her way of thinking have been fucked up since before she was a teenager. If it's not one thing, it's another with her. She a drama queen and a crackhead who enjoys being with worthless men.”

“Don't leave out women,” injected Jermaine, smiling. “Didn't she tell you that she's about to marry another woman?”

“I wouldn't put it past her, Jermaine. She'll try anything once, and if she likes it, then she'll roll with it. Now that you mentioned it, I can recall a couple times that she got out of jail and lived with women she'd met while incarcerated. I'll tell you, man, she's confused as hell. Anyway, have you seen Marvin lately?”

“Nope. Not since the last time I saw him at your place. Why? Is he missing in action or something?”

“Well, he jumped on Bobby a while back, and then call himself running away. I heard through the grapevine that he's somewhere out here selling dope, got three girls pregnant, and has joined a goddamn gang. I swear, Jermaine, that boy is gonna end up exactly where his mama is.”

“You mean to tell me that Marvin, the Marvin I know, has joined a gang and is selling dope?” Jermaine shook his head in disgust.

“I'll tell you what it is, Jermaine; the boy is just looking for love in all the wrong places. That's what drove him to being the way that he is. His mama isn't capable of showing him love because she doesn't even know how to love herself, and his daddy is too busy trying to be a player and don't give a fuck about him, so the boy feels that nobody loves him. His childhood was so fucked-up, you know, not having a positive role model or a normal childhood can drive a child to self-destruction. His mama's habits and choices have really fucked up his mind, that's the way I see it. The bad thing about it, Jermaine, is that she still hasn't learned yet. How in the hell can she explain to her children the fact of being married to another woman? Hell, they already think she's crazy, but wait until they find out about this. Anyway, Jermaine, I gotta run. Those kids are probably driving Bobby nuts right now. Nice meeting you, Sylvia, and I wish you both the best of luck in your marriage.”

“Thanks, Jewell. Give my love to the kids, and tell Bobby I said hi. As a matter of fact, tell the kids I'll pick them up this weekend and take them to Disneyland or somewhere.”

“That'll be nice, Jermaine. I'm sure that they will love that,” replied Jewell, smiling. She then left.

She could not wait to get home and tell Bobby about what she had just witnessed.

After telling Bobby about her encounter with Jermaine and his Mexican wife, Jewell then wrote a letter to Karen describing her conversation in detail with Jermaine. Of course, she exaggerated a lot like she often did, but excluded the derogatory things she had said about Karen.

As soon as Karen received the letter she wasted no time calling her sister collect.

“I got your letter today, sis. So that muthafucka married a Mexican bitch, huh?” Karen asked.

“Yep, and he told me that you are about to marry a woman too.”

“If that's my prerogative, Jewell, then that's what I'm gonna do. I'm a grown-ass woman, and I'm capable of making my own decisions. No one has to live with the decisions I make but me,” explained Karen.

“Yeah, you right about that, Karen, but the decisions that you've been making have led you to jail, and has caused me to be stuck with your kids,” replied Jewell.

“Anyway, I don't have much time to talk, so how are the kids doing?”

“They're fine, all but Marvin. He jumped on Bobby a while back, and then ran away. We haven't seen him since then. I heard that he's out there selling crack and doing all kinds of illegal shit, but if he is, sooner or later it will catch up with him. Oh, and I also heard that he's gotten three different girls pregnant.”

“Well, that's on him. I raised him to—”

“You didn't raise him, Karen. Me and Bobby raised him. The only thing you have done was give birth to him, that's all.”

“Whatever, Jewell. You still have a sarcastic mouth, don't you?”

“Yep. And you still haven't learned how to be a responsible mother yet, have you? Anyway, girl, back to Jermaine, his new wife appears to be intelligent and she's pretty attractive too. He mentioned that she's in real estate or a loan officer or something like that. They look so happy and content that it makes me kind of jealous. To be honest with you, I think they make a good couple.” Jewell figured that she'd struck a few of Karen's nerves by now, which were actually her intentions.

“Girl, I don't give a flying fuck about Jermaine or his bitch! I hope both of those muthafuckas burn and rot in hell.”

“Don't be mad at them, Karen. Hell, they haven't done a damn thing to you; you're the one who fucked up a good thing, but you're just too damn stubborn and stupid to realize it and admit to it. Jermaine was the best thing that ever happened to you and the kids—” Karen hung up in her face.

Jewell then began talking to Bobby.

“She hates to hear the truth, Bobby. She's been in denial and running from the truth for as long as I can remember.”

“If you ask me, the heffa is just plain ol' brain-dead and dumb. The thing that really gets me is that she thinks she knows every fuckin' thing, and she doesn't know shit.”

Jermaine had stumbled across Chad, from his previous job, while shopping one day at Home Depot. Chad was delighted to see Jermaine, but this was an encounter that Jermaine could have done without. Jermaine felt awkward conversing with him in public, but he still gave him a few minutes of his time only to get updated about his former coworkers. He knew that Chad had plenty of gossip to spread.

“You do know that Jennifer has changed professions, don't you?” Chad asked, smiling. He shamelessly shot occasional glances at Jermaine's crouch area.

“Nope, I haven't heard anything about it. You mean that she actually gave up all those years of experience and commitment as an agent for something else? Has she elevated to being an investor or a developer or something?”

“Nothing like that, Jermaine. She has actually made a ninety-degree turn for the worse. Her career modification happened shortly after you and her met that night. My theory is that since you and her didn't hit it off the way she had anticipated, she decided to chase her fantasy of having sex with black men. She's now a porn star, and not only that; she stars in movies with black men only. And I mean humongous black men, if you know what I mean,” replied Chad, smiling, then shot another quick glance at Jermaine's crotch area.

“Is that so?”

Jermaine thought back to how desperate Jennifer appeared to be that night.

“Yes, that's so. If you like, you can come by my apartment and watch a few movies she's in. And get this, her stage name is Jennifer Black.”

“Thanks, but I'll pass on that, Chad. I've recently gotten married and believe me, I'm a very content and blessed man. Tell everyone I said hello, and you take care of yourself and have a great evening, Chad.”

Life for Jermaine and Sylvia had been going blissfully well. They spent lots of quality time together. They were two lovebirds created especially for each other. To relatives and acquaintances they were the perfect couple. No flaws, no arguments, no cursing at one another or disrespect, and no pointing fingers blaming the other for anything. Neither of them made decisions without the other's approval.

Before going to work in the mornings they drank coffee and watched the news together. In the evenings they took walks in the park, then afterward would come home and watch talk shows, and then watch the evening news, and before bedtime they completed their day with some good lovemaking. Love, peace, and happiness was always in their midst.

Months later, while in the process of delivering Jermaine Jr., serious complications arose due to Sylvia's cancer. She had missed her last couple appointments with her personal doctor to be updated about her condition and things were not looking well.

A doctor came to the lounge and announced that Sylvia's cancer was causing complications in delivering the baby. This news came as a shock to Jermaine, and now Mr. Siordia suddenly felt that he owed Jermaine an explanation.

“Jermaine, please take a walk with me. I am so sorry for not mentioning Sylvia's condition to you earlier, but she insisted on not bringing anything to your attention in fear of possibly losing you.” Mr. Siordia was used to looking people in the eye when talking to them, but feeling that he had somewhat deceived Jermaine, he looked away when talking to him.

“Mr. Siordia, with all due respect, sir, I could have cared less if Sylvia had one leg, one arm, or was confined to a wheelchair, I would still love her the same. The fact of me not being informed about this really doesn't matter to me. I'm more so concerned about whether or not her and my son will pull out of this okay.” Jermaine's voice was saddened and wounded. He felt like he had just lost his mother, or a major part of him that kept him going.

“My Sylvia is just like me in some ways, son; sometimes she can be so stubborn, and so—”

“It's all right, Mr. Siordia. I guess we're all set in our ways and stubborn to a certain extent,” said Jermaine, in a distressed manner.

Suddenly a voice sounded through the intercom.

“Will the family of Sylvia Hopkins immediately report to room four-oh-nine on the fourth floor? Will the family of Sylvia Hopkins immediately report to room four-oh-nine on the fourth floor?”

Family members from both sides speedily responded to the page, but once inside the room they sensed that something was terribly wrong.

The doctors and nurses that staffed the fourth floor had done everything possible to save both Sylvia and her newborn, but unfortunately Sylvia had died and luckily, Jermaine Jr. had lived.

Because Sylvia had missed her doctor appointments, she had no knowledge of the cancer spreading to her uterus.

After hearing the devastating news from the head doctor, Jermaine went ballistic.

“Why! Oh, God, why did you take my Sylvia away from me! I had finally found my soul mate and you took her away! Why! Why Why!” yelled Jermaine, pacing the floor.

Mr. and Mrs. Siordia hugged one another tightly while mourning over the death of their daughter.

A relative of Jermaine's suggested that everyone join hands for a brief prayer, and after prayer a Filipina nurse approached the family.

“Would you like to see the baby?” asked the nurse, smiling. She hoped that seeing the baby would relieve some of the hurt and anguish from the family members.

Jermaine Jr. was a beautiful baby who shared the resemblance of both of his parents. He was light-brown–complexioned, with a head full of long, black hair, and a pair of pretty brown eyes. Jermaine was the first family member to hold the baby.

“Thank you, Lord, for seeing to it that my baby came out healthy and normal. But Lord, with all due respect, I'm still waiting on an answer as to why you took my Sylvia away from me. She was my world, Lord. You blessed me with her, Father. For you to just take—” He began crying.

Jermaine was mentally wounded behind the death of his wife, but like his father always told him, life goes on.

Even though he was blessed with a son, that just did not seem to substitute for his wife's absence.

He had taken a leave of absence from work, hoping to recover so that he could begin making arrangements for the well-being of his son. Not having any babysitting skills, Jermaine had asked Mrs. Siordia to tend to the baby while he began taking care of a few loose ends and pulling himself together mentally. But instead of taking care of business and pulling himself together, Jermaine spent his days and nights at home drinking hard liquor until he was totally drunk. The only time he left his home was when he had sobered up enough to go and purchase more liquor. His cell phone and home phone rang continuously, but he did not bother answering either of them. He kept the television and stereo on full blast during the entire day.

It had been a week and a half since anyone had heard from Jermaine. Mr. Siordia was awfully worried and decided to pay a visit to Jermaine's home.