Finessed By A Hood White Boy

Ava Gray

Tears burned the rim of my eyes as they threatened to fall.

They weren’t tears of sadness; they were tears of frustration.

Tears of anger and resentment that had been building up overtime.

For the most part, I’d been doing a damn good job keeping them at bay.

Hell, I should be a paid actress for how well I played my part in this thing called a marriage.

It had been a while, six months to be exact, since the last time my husband felt the need to put his hands on me.

We’d been arguing a lot lately. I asked this nigga one simple question last night.

Where have you been? And that caused a whole WWE special right in our living room.

Apparently, he didn’t want me questioning his whereabouts.

Hell, I only asked because I had cooked dinner, and he was supposed to be home by seven thirty.

Instead, he came walking in the house at damn near two in the morning.

Over the last two weeks, he had been coming in late, and I’d kept my mouth closed about it.

Now, there I was, standing in the shower fighting the urge to break down underneath the hot water burning my skin.

The slight pain from the water splashing against me most times helped calm my nerves.

I know it may sound crazy but it was a stress reliever.

However, at that moment, the shit wasn’t working.

The more I tried to suppress my emotions, the tighter the pain in my chest squeezed.

I stood still, inhaling deeply and exhaling until I had nothing to release.

Repeatedly, I told myself that I was okay, everything would be okay.

I did that over and over again until I finally broke.

None of my coping mechanisms seemed to work.

I guess that meant I was truly at my wits end with all of the bullshit I’d been dealing with.

Silently, I prayed and asked God to pull me out of my situation.

I wanted Him to pull me out of my marriage.

I’m not going to lie, I’d prayed this prayer numerous times.

I’d grown to realize that the only reason why I’m still stuck was because I allowed the spirit of fear and failure to keep me shackled.

This time felt different though. This time, I knew if God gave me a way out and released me I wouldn’t hesitate to run and never look back.

I took a few moments to allow my emotions to pour out until they couldn’t anymore.

Once the last tear dropped, I inhaled deeply, washed my body and got out of the shower.

The room was steamy, leaving the mirror fogged up.

After I dried off, I used my hand to clean the mirror and instantly despised the reflection that looked back at me.

Not only were my eyes puffy from crying, but the bruise lining my right eye caused my heart to crack.

Again, I began to pray. Well…more like manifest.

I will be happy. I will have peace. I will free myself of this marriage.

I will heal and become a stronger woman for the sake of my daughter.

A man will find me and give me genuine love.

He will be kind, patient, loyal, appreciative, understanding and know how to treat me.

Not only as a woman but as a lover and partner.

He will love my daughter. I am beautiful and the right man will find me in due time. Be patient Ava, this too shall pass.

I’d learned to stop focusing on the negativity in my life.

The more I focused on everything that was wrong in my marriage, the more miserable I became.

The more resentment settled in my heart.

That wasn’t me. Lately, I had been daydreaming about a better life.

A perfect life. I took a deep breath before I forced myself to snap out of the daze I was in.

I had to get my day started. I had places to be and a child to take care of.

It wasn’t until I checked my phone, I noticed I was running behind.

In a hurry, I was halfway dressed as I stopped to quickly apply a good beat to my face.

Savannah had an appointment and I knew the morning traffic was about to be hell.

The house was quiet except for the TV playing faintly in the bedroom.

Rob slept peacefully as if he hadn’t put his hands on me just hours earlier.

Literally, seven hours ago. The nigga slept like he had no care in the world.

No care for my feelings. My well being. Nothing.

As a man, and in his world, as long as he paid the bills nobody’s feelings mattered but his own.

That was his favorite thing to remind me of.

He paid the mortgage. He kept food in the house.

He kept the utilities running. Since he was the provider, everything had to be his way or the high way.

My sole responsibility was taking care of Savannah.

I dealt with everything that came with raising an autistic child, alone.

Rob was my husband and we all lived under the same roof.

However, he barely spent time with Savannah.

When she’d have meltdowns and sleepless nights, I was the one to comfort her.

When she gets sick, I’m the one that takes her to the doctor.

Half the time he’s not even interested in hearing about anything pertaining to her progress.

Let me explain something. After having my daughter, a lot of things changed drastically in my life.

I suffered postpartum depression and felt as if the weight of the world rested on top of me.

Then the pandemic hit, causing my catering business to hit rock bottom due to parties and gatherings being canceled.

It was then that Rob insisted that I stayed home full time to take care of our daughter.

At first, I was against the idea of being a stay-at-home mother.

However, I never trusted the daycare system and knew my child would never experience that environment.

Rob felt the same way and used that shit to his advantage. Sadly, I fell for it.

I wouldn’t say I became comfortable, but giving up my independent lifestyle was the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved being around my daughter day in and day out.

Given her circumstances, I’d rather be the person to take care of her full time anyway.

But I also loved making and having my own money.

I never had to depend on a man for anything, hell not even my daddy.

I’ve always had my own bag, but for some reason, life decided to throw a few curve balls my way and take me through hell.

Rob and I have been together for nine years.

Back then, I used to frequent the nightclub he owned called Allure.

Every time I popped out with my sister, he would always shoot his shot, but I’d curve that ball.

After three attempts, I decided to give him a chance.

We dated for a little over a year, and I was so in love.

Then he proposed, and we didn’t wait too long after to tie the knot.

Two days before we said, ‘I do,’ I found out I was pregnant.

All in the same time frame, I had also found out he was messing around with another woman.

Two other women, actually. Before all the drama surfaced, I thought we were going to live a happily ever after fairytale, but that wasn’t the case.

After I threatened to end our relationship and move on with our daughter, Rob promised he would never have another affair or even think about entertaining another woman.

After all the begging and pleading, I gave him another chance.

My entire pregnancy was a beautiful experience.

Our relationship was damn near perfect. Everything I could possibly ask for, Rob made sure he delivered.

Our connection seemed to be genuine, at least on my end it was.

After Savannah turned a year old, the man I fell in love with was no longer available.

Instead, he was switched out for a mean and abusive man who I wished I could escape.

My feelings no longer mattered to him, and he didn’t mind making it known.

It wasn’t long after Savannah was diagnosed with autism that I noticed his drinking problem getting out of hand.

Whenever he was intoxicated, he could get extremely violent.

There had been plenty of times when I’d had to thoroughly clean the house to make sure there were no tiny pieces of broken glass on the floor.

I’ve had to call multiple times and have our walls fixed from him punching holes in them.

Most of the time, when he’d have a violent outburst, I’d try to calm him down to keep our daughter from hearing how he behaved.

For a seven year old, Savannah was smarter than everyone thought despite her autism.

Children with autism are actually geniuses.

I had been trying my hardest to keep her protected from overhearing the verbal abuse, and I damn sure kept the physical out of her eyesight.

Now that I was ready, I had to quickly get Savannah dressed.

I had already given her a bath the night before and her hair was still neatly done in braided ponytails.

To make it easier for myself, I had all of her clothes organized in her closet with outfits already paired together.

Normally, I allowed her to pick out what she wanted to wear for the day.

One of my biggest goals as a mother with an autistic child was to make sure my baby knew how to be independent.

For the most part she was. After I grabbed her outfit, I made sure her bag was packed with all of her necessities before waking her up.

I watched as she slowly opened her eyes before they adjusted to focus on me.

“Good morning, princess.” I smiled, kissing her forehead.