Till We Meet Again (7 page)

Laughing I reached over and hit him on the shoulder. “You idiot,” I said.

Charles grabbed me and held me tight. “Now that’s the second time someone’s called me that!”

1

A New Start

A couple days after I escaped from Queens I was able to reach Thomas at his parents’ house to let him know that the boys were fine. I thought it was the least I could do since I had his sons. At first he was angry but then began pleading with me to come back. He said that we could work things out. But he wasn’t going to move out of her place until he knew for sure that things were going to work out between us. So the boys and I could come home and everything would be as it was, him doing our grocery shopping and us staying where he could find us. I couldn’t believe it. The scary part is that I actually thought about it for a few seconds. But no, I hadn’t lost that much pride to know that wasn’t an option.

I told Thomas I wouldn’t move back to Queens and to that crazy situation, and that I wanted to raise the boys in Westchester County near my family and friends. He said, “It’s always all or nothing with you, bitch!” and hung up on me.

A week later I called Thomas’ mother asking her to let him know I need to speak with him. I had gotten a post office box and he was supposed to send me money for the boys. Each day I pushed the boys in their double side-by-side stroller, or the “18 wheeler” as I called it, to the post office and each day it was filled with nothing but junk mail. Even though I didn’t want to leave the boys, I looked for a babysitter so I could work but it was way too expensive. Because the boys were so young any money I made would go right to the babysitter. So I waited for Thomas to send me the money he promised me. But he didn’t so I reached out to his mother. She, of course, didn’t want to get involved. She said IF she heard from him she would give him the message.

Another week went by and no word or money from Thomas or his parents. So with the boys in their “18 wheeler” I sat in the crowded waiting room of the Department of Social Services. I handed each of them the last bit of crackers I had, hoping to keep them quiet. Although we had a set appointment we had been sitting there for over an hour waiting for my name to be called. I looked around at the other people sitting there and I wondered, “How did I get here?” Raised in an upper middle class home, by hard working, amazing and supportive grandparents, a college education, “How did I let this happen”? As Aiden began to fuss I put the bottle in his mouth. How did I end up like all these other single mothers who didn’t have half the privileges I had. Choking back tears as they called my name I somehow maneuvered the double stroller through the crowded room into the back room and cubicle.

An African-American woman sat behind the desk. The nameplate on her desk read Mrs. Humphrey. Without looking up she pointed to the chair in front of her desk, “Miss Cameron, do you have the paperwork?”

With a shaken voice I said, “Yes, I do,” and handed her the enormous pile of forms needed to apply for food stamps and other public assistance.

Still not looking at me she said, “Do you know who their father is?”

     “Yes,” I said straightening my back, “My husband.”

She then looked at me. “Oh. For both of them?” She pointed to the boys.

What the….”Yes,” I said lifting my chin.

     “Do you know where he is?”

Putting my head back down, “Not really.” I said.

After years of trying to hide my situation from my family and what friends I had left, here I was at the Department of Social Services. I now had to admit to the county, the state and the Federal government that I had no idea where my husband, the father of my children, was; that he didn’t care about us at all; that I needed help desperately and that I had failed. So I continued to answer Mrs. Humphrey’s intrusive questions while wishing that somehow I could wake up from this nightmare and it would all be over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of the many things my grandparents taught me over the years was the power of prayer. My grandfather, the Lay Reader for our Church, was well known for the length and strength of his prayers…whether it was during grace before a meal or during the “prayers of the people” section of mass every Sunday, you could always feel his heart and the Word of God in his prayers. In addition he spent a lot of time up in the attic in private prayer.

I also had a friend named Kay who I met through friends shortly after “my escape”. She taught me the power of making a “Wish List.” I had made it a practice and then a healthy habit of praying first thing in the morning just before the boys woke up. I’d start with the Lord’s Prayer; reading a few Psalms, then quiet time with God…trying to hear what He had in store for me. I would then add those things to the list.  At first I saw no movement but as time went on I found myself crossing things off my “Wish List” as my “wishes” came true. One such thing was to have my own place.

Fortunately when I first contacted our family friend, Shirley, she told me to apply for Section 8. A program that helps pay the rent of a low or no income person. At the time I applied, I thought it wouldn’t be needed. But thank God I listened to her and applied. I was on a waiting list. Five months after “escaping” I received notice that my name had come up on the list and I would receive a Section 8 voucher. Having no idea what that meant I quickly went upstairs and showed Shirley the letter. She was so excited because it was a Section 8 voucher not just regular Section 8. Not knowing one person who had any dealings with that I had no idea what she was talking about. But I quickly learned that it was another blessing the Lord had sent my way. Apparently with regular Section 8, a very small amount was allotted for rent but, with the voucher I had a bigger allotment so I had a bigger budget to play with. This meant I would not have to raise my sons in a poor neighborhood. I would be able to stay in the same small town and practically right around the corner from where we were staying with Shirley. If we could find a house in the area where the landlord would accept the voucher and the apartment passed inspection I would be able to rent the place.

A month later and just before Aiden’s 1
st
birthday I was able to find a house. Shirley came with me to look at the place. But frankly as long as it had electricity and running water I was going to take it. It was an old drab looking gray and white two family house and was the last house on a dead end street surrounded by woods.

The boys and I would live on the 1
st
floor which the landlord just finished renovating. No one lived on the 2
nd
floor because it had not been renovated as of yet. The other houses on the street were middle class family homes that were well manicured. My potential house however had a front yard that was over grown with grass and weeds. It looked like it hadn’t seen a lawn mower in years...literally. But since the front yard was not part of the inspection I didn’t care.

The apartment passed inspection and we were able to move in immediately. It was a two-bedroom apartment. So much bigger than the room the boys and I shared in Shirley’s basement. It had an eat-in kitchen and a living room with a fireplace that was closed up. We had no furniture accept for the boys’ cribs and the TV and VCR my mother had bought us the Christmas before we moved from Long Island. Some friends of mine gave us old living room furniture that they had gotten from someone else. So by the time we got it, there was no stuffing left in the cushions and the fabric had worn off a long time ago. But I didn’t care. I threw a sheet on the living room couch and moved on. This was our home and I couldn’t have been happier. Thank You Lord!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “There’s got to be something wrong with him,” Janice said. “He sounds too perfect.”

Janice sat back against the couch. The girls and I were hanging out in Janice’s condo, which overlooked downtown White Plains.

     “She’s been seeing him for almost five months, and things are still going great,” Moira said sitting on the edge of the coffee table. “He hasn’t shown any signs of being a jerk.”

     “He will,” Patricia added.

     “There are good men out there ladies,” Melissa interjected.

     “No, there aren’t!” Patricia said slumped in the high back-upholstered chair.

We all looked at Patricia. “Fighting with Tony?” Janice questioned.

     “He did it again!” Patricia sat up in the chair.

We all laughed.

     “Toilet seat up again,” I asked trying to hold in my laughter.

     “I fell in the damn toilet again last night!” Patricia said looking extremely annoyed. “I’m tired of this passive aggressive crap!”

     “No pun intended,” Janice mumbled.

I couldn’t hold the laugh in anymore.

     “Do you really think it’s because you won’t let him get another dog? You already have one,” Moira said. Not being an animal lover herself she couldn’t understand the need for one dog let alone two.

     “I’m telling you that’s when it started!” Patricia narrowed her eyes, “I tell you what, if he does it again I’m going to ‘accidently’ break his golf clubs over his head, the jerk!”

     “Anyway,” Janice interjected, “back to the original subject…what’s wrong with this Charles character?”

     “He doesn’t leave the toilet seat up,” I said laughing into my glass of wine.

     “Very funny,” Patricia sat back in her chair and pouted.

     “Listen, leave the guy alone,” Melissa said coming to Charles’ defense. “When he came with you to the dance he looked really hot in that tux.”

     “Yes he did!” shouted Janice.

The girls and I attend an annual dinner/dance. It’s a fundraiser for breast cancer awareness in honor of Moira’s late mother. She passed away about five years ago. Charles had accompanied me to the dance where the girls and their guys were introduced to him.

Melissa continued, “I really like him. He seems like a good guy. Besides I like the way he looks at Simone when he thinks no one’s watching.”

     “And he didn’t buckle under when we asked a million questions about himself,” chimed in Moira. “In addition he gave a really nice donation.”

     “That’s true,” said Melissa nodding her head.

     “And he has a really nice…” Patricia smiled while moving her eyebrows up and down.

     “Yes, he does,” I agreed.

     “Besides all that,” Melissa said, “This is the first serious relationship Simone has had since the boys were little. She’s spent practically her entire adult life making the boys her first priority. It’s time she put herself first. The boys are grown and out of the house now. She can’t keep using them as an excuse.”

I rolled my eyes.

     “And if it means she’s finally getting laid…” Patricia trailed off.

The girls laughed.

     “Geez, nothing’s private,” I said mumbling into my glass of wine.

They ignored me.

     “No one has been able to penetrate that wall she has around her since she divorced old what’s his name 100 years ago,” Melissa continued.

     “Yea and if he’s strong enough to penetrate that Berlin wall she’s built up over the years, then he deserves her,” Moira added.

Janice jumped in, “Besides all that he screws like a…”

     “O.K., O.K.” I shouted. “If I can interrupt? Yes, we all know I tend to put up a wall.” I glared at Moira not liking the reference of the Berlin Wall in conjunction with my heart. “And yes, I did put the boys first. But I didn’t use them as an excuse.”

Janice cleared her throat.

     “O.K. maybe a little excuse, but…”

Melissa cleared her throat.

     “O.K. damn it! Yes I may have used the boys as an excuse. However,” I said before I could be interrupted. “I still say I did the right thing.”

     “No one’s arguing with you,” Patricia said looking at Janice.

     “No, I’m not arguing with you,” Janice said looking at me. “I just want you to be careful.”

     “She’s been careful forever,” Melissa said. “It’s time she relaxed and enjoyed herself.”

     “Didn’t you like him when we met him, Janice?” Moira asked, “I did.”

     “Yea, I liked him. Actually he’s very nice, very smart and very hot,” Janice smiled. “I just want you to be happy.”