Page 28 of Love Me Now: Adrian & Kwamé
Smiling, I bounced out of my head to find him standing at the archway of the kitchen. His hands rested in his pockets as he leaned against the wall. Jaylen was still the most handsome man I’d ever met. That was partially why I caved with him all those years ago. The things that came out of his mouth used to grate my nerves as we were opponents. However, now that I was his wife, my husband’s intellect and emotional intelligence were two things I loved about him the most.
“I’d rather cook,” I stated.
He chuckled. “You look like that’s the last thing you wanna do, Sweets.”
Ever the debater, my husband knew me well. “And I knowyouwant to watch the game. Your team needs all the support they can get after the tragic loss of Damon.”
Jaylen sighed heavily. “Yeah, it’s crazy what happened to him.”
My eyebrows drew together. “Why do I feel like his death isn’t as cut and dry as the media wants us to think? Are you confirming that suspicion?”
He shrugged. “I’m not. They said he committed suicide. My question is,why? Damon was at the top of his game and had everything ahead of him. What was so bad that he ended it all in such a way?”
My husband’s thoughts became my own. Having once been on the receiving end of suicidal thoughts, I would never discount anyone’s feelings or situations. Jaylen’s question was valid, though.
“I’m sure there are many people wondering the same thing, my handsome man,” I stated.
Jaylen grinned and approached me. I already knew what he was after and tilted my head up to accept his kiss. This man was so attentive and loving. He would make a great dad. To think that being married to me kept him from those dreams of his. His love for me ran so deep that my inability to ever give him children never made him walk away from me.
“I’m gonna order dinner in, aight?”
He was so perfect.
“Sure,” I acquiesced. “Sounds good.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was still inside the kitchen snacking on some celery and baby carrots until dinner arrived when something on the living room television perked up my ears. Jaylen was gearing up for the game to start, and the pregame announcements had been on. It sounded like a league announcement was being made. Thinking it was about Damon, I tuned it out and went back to eating my celery and baby carrots.
Minutes later, Jaylen entered the kitchen wearing a perplexed expression.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
He motioned me over, so I went to him. He took me in his arms and pointed to the television. On the screen…
“Explain to me why there’s an absolutely stunning young woman on the screen of our television who resembles the woman I’ve been married to for the last fifteen years.” My husband kissed my cheek and stared at the side of my face. The dazed expression I wore wasn’t worse than the feeling I felt in the pit of my stomach. Inside my ears, my heart beat erratically. I’d only felt this level of fear once in my life. “You got something you need to tell me, baby?”
Breaking free of his arms, I darted back inside the kitchen and threw up the snack I’d just eaten.
KWAMÉ
MyhandsshookasSpecial Agent King delivered his speech to the crowd. He informed the room full of reporters, spectators, and everyone in between of his belief that Damon was the sole attacker of DeAnna. There was no robbery. Damon sexually assaulted DeAnna, then beat her so badly that her body couldn’t recover. The fear and trauma DeAnna must’ve felt. I’d never know what she wanted to talk to me about. However, I bet my money on it that it had something to do with Damon.
A hush fell through the crowd as Special Agent King announced my name. Adrian’s hand caressed mine as he accompanied me to the podium. On the other side of me stood Dothan. In front of me, I was almost blinded by a few flashes.
“Hello, everyone.” My voice shook as I started talking. “My name is Kwamé Bell. I hold a PhD in psychology, with specialized training in trauma. For the past three years, I have served as the NBA’s head crisis counselor under the direct leadership of Dr. Tinette Lewis.”Whew!Now that I had that out, these next batch of words were going to be the toughest. With my eyes shining with tears, I met the crowd standing before me head-on this tumultuous Sunday morning.
“My job is to assist players of the league with working through traumatic situations that may arise on or off the court. Damon Brooks was one of those players.” I took a deep breath, heldmy head up. “Many months ago, Mr. Brooks…sexually assaulted me.”
The gasp that went out amongst the crowd caused my throat to nearly close. Cameras flashed to record the raw feelings I experienced in that moment. My business was being laid out for the world to hear and see. However, it was for the greater good. With a resolve I only felt on the surface, I continued.
“Although I assist others with processing their emotions and guiding them through difficult times, in my own time of crisis, I chose to hide. I hid out of fear, uncertainty, and disbelief that what happened to meactuallyhappened. I’m coming forward today to hopefully encourage any other victims to come forward. Although, Mr. Brooks is no longer with us, his history of abuse is evident in his attack on my dear friend and colleague, DeAnna Humphries. Mr. Brooks took an innocent and precious life from us all. I make it my mission to bring justice to those affected by him.”
Almost done,I told myself.
“Hiding was never something I encouraged my clients to do. I encourage them to stand up and face those things that bring them sorrow, fear, and anxieties. The goal is to never bottle something inside and tuck it away like the hem of a shirt. My goal has always been to encourage healthy confrontations with one’s feelings. As I press forward, I urge those who have unwillingly been involved with Mr. Brooks to contact FBI Special Agent Tracy King. Thank you so much for your time.”
A plethora of questions burst forth as Adrian led me from the podium. Special Agent Tracy King took over, demanding that the room direct any questions his way. As soon as Adrian had me out of view of the cameras, he grabbed me and hugged me tighter than I’d ever felt before.
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he whispered in my ear as I cried against his chest. “You just made so many people feel like theycan face anything. I’ll put a nigga in his grave about you. Still, you’re the strongest muhfucka I know, baby.” He tilted my head up and kissed my tears away. His eyes stapled to mine when he said, “They gon’ type how much I love you into my fuckin’ headstone, Kwamé. That’s how fuckin’ much I love you.”
