Cracked Roots and Roses 13: Natural Progression

Life went on… all couples have problems, I guess. I grew up watching my parents argue every other day. I still wanted to marry Jeremy because we had a baby together. I didn’t have the gift of hindsight; I wanted marriage right then.

A friend of his eventually got him a job at JCPenney in the warehouse where they priced jewelry. It was a better job because it paid a bit more and wasn’t overnight. He started there part-time but still worked security overnight a few times a week. One night, while I was in bed with my scarf on, about to go to sleep, Jeremy came in from work and sat on the edge of the bed. It was strange because he normally got out of his work clothes and watched TV for a bit.

He got on one knee and said, “You want this much more than I do. Will you marry me?” Then he tried to slide a very elaborate cocktail ring with the price tag still on it onto my ring finger. It was too small, so he just handed it to me. I frowned a little. I wanted to ask, “What does that mean?” but I knew that would ruin the “moment,” so I pushed that invasive thought down. Instead, I laughed and said, “That’s not how you propose!” He said, “Oh, sorry. Do you wanna get married?” I said yes.

Now… that was my first red flag. This is not a “bash Jeremy” session, but I’m going to tell the truth and shame the devil. That proposal spoke volumes to me, even at that age. I didn’t know he didn’t want to get married, and I certainly didn’t want to feel like he was being forced into it just because we had a child. I was always being hit on by men for whatever reason, so I would’ve been fine. Since we lived together and had a daughter, I saw marriage as the natural progression.

Even with that sick feeling in my gut, I still told everyone I was engaged. I got the ring sized and wore it proudly.

At the time, Jeremy had a bunch of friends, but his best friend was Pat. Pat lived on the same block as my cousin, and I met him a few weeks after I met Jeremy. I liked Pat because he was witty, funny, and had a laid-out plan for his life. He rented a chair in a barbershop, purchased his first car with cash, and was taking college courses.

Once, in my cousin’s basement, Pat told me that he liked me and wished he had met me before Jeremy did. This shocked me because I didn’t think I was his type. The girls he dated looked like cheerleaders or Soul Train dancers. I was still very skinny, and guys in the hood didn’t like skinny girls—the thick girls got the attention. I brushed it off completely because I was with Jeremy. Pat did the same and never spoke of it again. He was never inappropriate in word or deed.

A few months after our engagement, Pat got saved. Just like that, he became someone else. I had never seen anyone do a complete 360 like him. I knew “saved” folk, but they were sometimes worse than the unsaved. He would blast gospel music in his car instead of rap, joined a church, and even sang in the choir. He threw all his rap CDs and tapes in the trash and would stand on corners with drug dealers, telling them about Jesus.

When anyone sat in his chair for a haircut, he told them about Jesus. He would attend the weekly funerals of boys who’d been killed, get up to speak, do a whole altar call, and lead whoever was willing to Jesus.

At first, I thought he’d had a nervous breakdown and didn’t really want him around Jeremy or my daughter. It was odd… a 20-year-old man carrying a table-sized Bible and talking to people about Jesus. I had never seen anything like it.

I vividly remember coming home from work to find Jeremy and Pat sitting on the couch doing a Bible study. Everything in me raged. I told Pat he was welcome, but his Bible needed to stay in the car. I argued with him regularly about the Bible being a man-made book and that he was a fool to believe such fables.

The truth was, I was lowkey mad at God because of how my life was going. I didn’t know He existed, and at this point, I thought I’d handle my life myself. I had cried out—I begged the Lord to help me—but with every cry for help, I was met with more challenges, many of my own making.

Around this time, I had been arrested for theft. At my job, I would print duplicate receipts, do fake returns, and keep the cash. Jeremy and I were struggling so much that I would borrow money from my sister for rice and hot dogs. Eventually, she told me she had her own family to take care of and suggested I go to a food pantry. I didn’t know where to find one, and I didn’t qualify for food stamps because I had a job. With all the bills and expenses, we were about to be homeless.

The first $50 I took gave me some breathing room, but I couldn’t stop. When I was arrested a month later, I wasn’t even mad—I was relieved. I didn’t know how to stop but wanted to.

I had no idea the charge was a felony or that I’d be arrested and booked into county jail. I was processed, searched, fingerprinted, and transported to jail. There, I was given an orange jumpsuit, brown sandals that were too small, and placed in my own cell. I sat on the dirty blue mat and stared at the wall, wondering, What have I done with my life?

The jail was loud and cold. My cell had one threadbare blanket, a small rubber pillow, and a King James Bible. I tried to read it but didn’t understand it. The text isn’t designed to be understood by those outside of the Covenant, and I was outside of it. So, I closed the Bible, pulled my knees to my chest, and prayed the most earnest prayer I’d ever prayed in my life: “Lord, please help me.”

A few hours later, someone brought me a tray of food and asked if I wanted to make a phone call. I left the food where it was and made a collect call to Jeremy. He was worried because I hadn’t come home. I told him I was in jail and to come get me.

After I was processed, Jeremy posted bond, and I went home. It was awful. I couldn’t sleep, worrying about jail time. I didn’t want to fight the case because I was guilty, so I asked for a plea deal. In exchange for a guilty plea I avoided a trial. I took 10 days of community service and three years’ probation.

During all this, Pat kept coming over to do Bible studies with Jeremy. Then one day, Jeremy got a call that Pat was very sick and had been taken to the hospital. I thought it was something minor, but he was in the hospital for weeks. When he was discharged, he came over to talk to Jeremy about Jesus.

A month later, he was admitted again. While sitting at home, I felt a STRONG urge to visit Pat. This was odd because I had never considered visiting him before, he would be home soon. Nonetheless the very next day, I took the train to Cook County Hospital. Before I reached his room, I heard him talking to his roommate about Jesus. So I hung back until a low in the conversation came.

I stuck my head in first then stepped all the way in when I saw his roommate focused on his TV. When he saw me, he smiled and said, “Just who I was sitting here waiting for.” That was odd because he didn’t know I was coming. There were no cell phones and I didn’t even know I was coming until I woke up. Today I know The Lord told him.. he had to speak certain things into me.

I gave him an inquisitive smile. Then said “Hey! Boy what you doing up here wasting these people time?”He put his finger on the page he was reading and flipped the Bible closed. He said “Do you know God wants to use you?” I sighed and said “no, He doesn’t” I didn’t want to reject what he was saying because he seemed so sincere. We both laughed then he said, “Kim, you’re going to be one of the biggest voices for Jesus the world has seen.” I tried to laugh it off but I didn’t reject it or speak against it. A few minutes later a nurse came in and said they needed to take him down for more testing. My visit was cut short. I stood, leaned over and gave him a hug while choking back tears, unfortunately a couple of them escaped. He said girl what are you crying about? I’ll be home soon.

As soon as I got out of the unit he was in, I found a pay phone and called Jeremy’s job. When they gave him the phone, I said, “When you get off work, come to see Pat.”

He said, “Why? He’ll be home soon. I spoke to his brother earlier.”

I can still remember the urgency. I yelled, “YOU COME SEE HIM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!”

Jeremy got quiet. He said, “OK, I’ll go up there tomorrow.”

The next morning, a girl from his church named Angie called the house. That was odd—I had only met her once on a double date months prior.

I said, “Hello.”

I heard nothing, so I said, “Hello,” again. Then I heard a sniffle.

She whispered, “Pat died last night.”