Page 9 of Ordinary Secrets

“Yo!” Javina calls from the bathroom. “When are you planning to fix this gaping hole in your wall?”

I still have nightmares about that fist flying at my face. When I ducked, his fist ran straight into the drywall with acrack!He bled quite a bit. While I bandaged him up, I secretly wished he had broken something. That was the moment I knew I had to get out.

A week later, I was busy packing a bag when he arrived home early from work. Getting caught trying to leave only made a bad situation worse. For weeks, he barely let me out of his sight. He stole my car keys and hid them. Every day, he’d drop me off at work and pick me back up. The daycare became my safe haven, and I’d dread whenever my shift ended.

When I wasn’t working, he’d lock me up in our apartment and try to brainwash me into believing that I was nothing without him. Sometimes, it worked. Other times, I wished for him to get hit by a bus.

During those dark days, whenever Javina asked if we could hang out, I’d lie and tell her I already had plans. Eventually, she caught on. The day she pulled me aside during our lunch break and vocalized her suspicions, I burst into tears. It didn’t take me long to confess how I’d got the marks on my face that I’d been hiding under layers of foundation and concealer.

That night, Javina showed up with her buff dad, her athletic brother, and her two heavily tattooed uncles. All of them had broad shoulders and stood to at least six three. While one guarded me, the others threw all of my ex’s things out the door—literally. Socks were scattered across the grass, and his can of shaving cream exploded all over the sidewalk.

For the next few weeks, Javina’s family took turns camping outside my place to ensure he stayed away. Javina still talks about how much she loved seeing the fear in my ex’s eyes whenfour large Black men showed up and wouldn’t takenofor an answer.

“I’ll do it eventually,” I say, hoping I’m speaking loudly enough for Javina to hear. “I haven’t found the motivation yet.”

“Want my help? I can’t imagine staring at a hole in the wall every day while I do my business.”

I’ve thought about patching it up, but then I’d need to patch up the three holes in the bedroom. In the middle of our fights, he used to point at those holes and say, “Thatis what happens when you disobey me and try to fight back. Just do what I say, when I say it.” That normally scared me into submission because he was right. Fighting back only ever made him more violent. It was always easier to just give him what he wanted. Now, I hide those holes behind artwork and framed photos. If I only had one hole to fix, it’d probably be done already. Four is a daunting project.

I would cover the hole in the bathroom with a picture if it wasn’t in such an awkward place—right below the towel bar, slightly to the left. My bath towel usually hides it, and nobody except Javina ever comes over anyway, so why bother?

Besides, whenever I see that hole now, I’m reminded of the naïve, trusting person I used to be. I’m reminded that I don’t need a man or his money to make it. Over the past eight months, I’ve picked up a weekend nanny job to cover his part of the rent. I’ve learned the difference between real love and the love to control. I’ve even learned that I can make jokes and laugh out loud without his permission. Seeing this hole now reminds me that I’m stronger today than I was before, and it encourages me to continue to be strong.

The toilet flushes, and the sink runs, then Javina reappears in the living room. “Sorry, babes. Didn’t mean to bring him up again.”

“It’s fine.” I force a smile—something I’ve learned to do well. Yeah, I’m getting better, but time hasn’t completely healed meyet. There are still things that shut me down. Like whenever I see or hear his name. Whenever I catch a whiff of alcohol. Whenever a man gets too close.

I’ve been relearning that not every man who touches me wants to bruise me. My brain knows it, but it’s harder to convince my body to know it. I still tense up whenever I’m touched by a man, which is progress from eight months ago, when I’d practically break down in tears.

In the beginning, my ex’s touches were loving and didn’t leave bruises. The first time he slapped me, we were in a heated argument over something I can’t even remember. He promised it would never happen again. And it didn’t... not for another four months. Eventually, his slaps turned into punches, his promises turned into begging, and the months between those fights became weeks or days.

He spent a lot of nights conditioning me into believing his behavior was my fault and that I deserved it. Apparently, I didn’t listen, I was too defiant, and I questioned him too often. After a while, I just obeyed. Whenever he talked, I listened. Whenever he told me not to wear something, I didn’t. Whenever he came home late, I stopped asking where he had been. I know now that his actions were not my fault and that I never deserved it.

Javina plops beside me and digs her hand into our popcorn bowl. “One last question, then we can be done talking about him.”

“Okay?” I keep scrolling through the movies, even though my brain isn’t registering any of the titles. I’m too focused on what Javina has to say next.

“When’s the last time you saw that low-life bitch face?”

“A month, I think.”

Thirty-seven days, to be exact.And yes, I keep count because thirty-seven is a record—ahugerecord.

Unfortunately, that means he’s bound to reappear soon.

3

TREY

In the backlot of the Soul House, I pull my car up next to Kevin’s.

“Thanks again for taking me out for sushi, guys,” Kevin says as he pops his door open. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Kev,” Liz says, waving one of her gloved hands. “See ya tomorrow.”

I wave too. “See ya, bro.”

The second Kevin is in his car and has driven away, Liz turns in her seat to face me. I already know what she’s gonna say. “Oh my god, T. Please tell me you got a reading off that Ari girl.”

---