Whooping Ass

No one likes to get a beat down, but sometimes it's necessary to be smacked around a little bit. Baby bottoms’ must be smacked after babies are pushed from their cozy womb. Male cheeks should be smacked after male hands grab female cheeks. Lips of sons and daughters could be smacked if those same lips shout “I hate you!” to mamas. I’ve experienced necessary beatings myself. Mami once whacked me with a pink leather belt after she caught me throwing pieces of platanos out the kitchen window. A nurse struck my arm over and over again to get my stubborn vein to “pop”. My head was smashed onto a headboard during a night of great sex. But none of these beat downs compared to the ones I received by Elijah during Limbo. The thrashings were necessary for my awakening.

The first punch was swung a few weeks after Elijah had picked up his things. I called him and told him I missed him. He threw a jab and told me he had spent the night before drinking beers with his ex-girlfriend but that his feelings for me hadn’t changed. I swung back, told him he was a full of shit and that I never wanted to speak to him again.

Two weeks later, I bobbed and weaved in an attempt to duck his upper cuts. He said my dramatic reaction reinforced his decision to be single. His words caught me off guard. I lost my concentration and was hit.

During my 27th birthday there was another rumble. He failed to show up to my pre-birthday celebration. I was liquored up, ENRAGED, therefore drank and dialed about twenty times. He didn’t pick up once. The next morning I woke up with a hang over and battered cheek.

The biggest beating came after six months of Limbo. I decided to remain in Philadelphia for the night after flying in from Miami. I hoped Elijah and I could spend some time together though the possibility of a beating was certain. While pressing send on my cell phone and hearing the rings, I prayed for a truce.

“Hey, I got a hotel room. So I will be staying the night,” I said.

“Where are you staying?” he asked.

“The Doubletree Hotel, it’s really nice.”

“Yeah I know that hotel. I’ve stayed there before.” he said.

His hook made direct contact with my jaw. My jaw dropped and my eyes watered. I couldn’t believe he was reliving a moment in a hotel room, possibly a moment with his ex. I inhaled and regained my composure.

“So are we gonna hang out?” I asked.

“I have to go to a barbecue at my brother’s girl’s house and to a few others. I don’t know how long I’ll be. It may be too late.”

I inhaled and tried again.

“It’s ok. It’s a holiday. We’ll go to a bar for a few hours.” I said.

“I’ll have to drive out there and then drive back. All that just for a few hours – “

“So what does that mean? We’re not going to see each other?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, babe. I’ll have to see,” he replied.

Smack! My face swung from right to left. With cell in hand, I began to pace across the carpeted floor before stopping in front of the long mirror. My expression was somber. My eyes lacked shine. Bruises began to form underneath my eyes and right cheek.

“So you want me to wait. I don’t want to be stuck inside, here –“

“I hate that you always wait to see what I’m doing to make plans! Go out and have fun regardless of what I’m doing! Don’t wait for me!”

Jab! Jab! Upper cut! Smack! Hook! Teeth cracked. Saliva flung from my mouth. Crimson red flowed from my lips. I stared at my reflection. I stared at the mess. He thought I was dependent on him. He thought I was holding him back. There was no “us”. That was the reality.

I mumbled a goodbye while holding back tears of pain. He said he would call back but it didn’t matter. Denial was being stripped away. Hope vanished with every throb, every black and blue, every necessary beat down. I fell onto the King sized bed and cried out loud. Just like a baby does after the first smack. I had finally awakened.