Lewis, Errol – Memoir: The Earliest Memory and Divorce

THE EARLIEST MEMORY

He lay on top of her. Kissing his way down from her neck to her chest. Imagining two voluptuous globes. Caressing her in ways that a man would touch a wife, girlfriend or lover. Sadly, as romantic as the act may sound the female involved is his 9-year-old daughter. As my other sister and I bear witness to our father’s disgusting act – violating a helpless young girl – we run to our mother’s leg, telling her of what is happening in her daughter’s bedroom. What the man she promised to love, honor, cherish and obey for the rest of her days was doing to her child. Would she believe it? Would she ignore it? Not my mother. Immediately, she acted and ran to the room. Whatever he was doing, he stopped. She didn’t see what we saw, but she still did what any mother should. The police came, took him in and unfortunately let him go shortly thereafter. “There’s no evidence,” they said. What evidence could there be except the word of her children, ages 9, 7 and 3? Times were different, especially in the south.

The year was 1987, and this is where our story begins.

(a couple of paragraphs that I’m editing)

THE DIVORCE

With three kids and a husband that beats her for no reason, while accusing her of having an affair with his son from another woman, the time has come for them to end their legal connection. After 9 years of marriage, she’s ready to put an end to the torture. She just didn’t realize how hard it would be for a black woman, who has no license to drive nor money in the bank to support herself, much less her precious ones. As divorce proceedings commence, the judge grants her full access to the five-bedroom home with the 4-inch deep pool where the kids have grown up. Her husband is ordered to stay as far away as the court allows for the time being. After some semblance of normalcy, a decision is made and she gets full custody of their kids. She even gets a home out of the deal and child support. Had she known she’d be screwed outside the bedroom she probably would have made better decisions when it came to choosing her lawyer. A lawyer that allowed her to lose out on the five-bedroom home, while accepting a new address and three-bedrooms for a family of four. A lawyer that allows her to accept $160 a month in child support, not for each kid, but for all three. As terrible as the deal sounds, she’s officially untied from a man who has accused her of infidelity and witchcraft. Has abused her physically and mentally. Broken her down to pieces where life wouldn’t be worth living simply because you’ve been made to believe that you aren’t worth life.

Inheriting the bedroom set she shared with her husband, she takes a rest on her comfortable bed. After a timely move, things are settled. The girls are sharing a room once again while her youngest remains in a room of his own. A road long traveled has reached its end. What to do, she ponders. What to do indeed. A few weeks into their new living arrangement, she gets word from her former neighbor that his dog had puppies. “Do you want one?” he asked. Taking him up on his kind gesture, with no financial attachment, she takes in a little brown pup and named her Nellie. The bitch that she was never left our mother’s side, not even when she wasn’t around. Always waiting for her mistress, either in the bedroom or by the door, she took command from mother and growled when you came around.