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The next thing I knew, he was joining the force, and I was just trying to keep my nose clean. I hadn’t expected him to want anything to do with me after that, but he’d been there for me.
He hadn’t abandoned me. In fact, we got back together. And then one day, he asked me to marry him. I had felt honored that after the person I became when I lost my mom, he could still see the person that I was before my grief.
Saying yes to him had been easy.
His faith in me had helped me figure out my life. I went back to school, started working as a social worker, and we had been happy.
Then I had gotten a call from Luis that changed everything. Maybe that’s why I found myself tensing up when I heard Luis’ voice today.
He was, unfortunately, always the bearer of bad news. Today was no different.
“I’m fine, Luis. Thanks for calling.” I took a deep breath and decided to be honest. “It’s been a hard day. How about you? Everything okay?”
He was silent for a long time which made me look at the phone. “Luis, you still there?”
“I’m here…I’m here.” He sighed then, and I could tell this wasn’t just an attempt to check in on me. Something was wrong.
“What’s going on, Luis? What’s wrong?”
I knew he had recently gotten married. I couldn’t remember the wife’s name. What was it, Sadie? Sydney? I was a hermit, so we’d only met once or twice, and I barely spoke to her. Didn’t they just have a baby?
“Are your wife and kid okay?” I asked when he didn’t answer me.
“Susan and Ezrah are fine,” he said finally. “But I guess you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“He’s getting out, Mya. I’m sorry.”
“Who?” I breathed, but he didn’t have to say another word. My brain finally caught up. My hands tightened around the phone and I closed my eyes, pushing back at the bile that rose in my throat.
“Nico di Cecco.”
Just hearing his name made me feel lightheaded. That couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be true. There was no way. There was no way they would let that monster out. He had murdered Jason in cold blood.
“Mya? Mya? You there? Hello? Mya?”
Hoarsely, I replied, “I’m here.” I stared out of the window, not really seeing anything in front of me. “How?” I asked softly.
He began to explain. I heard the words, but they didn’t make sense to me—something about a technicality. A technicality? He’d shot Jason twice in the chest and once in the head…he’d killed my husband.
Whatever else Luis was saying, I didn’t hear it. It didn’t matter anymore.
My hands gripped the steering wheel as the rage consumed me. It barely registered when he finally hung up, saying how sorry he was. He sounded so angry, yet he was just as powerless as me to do anything about this mess.
Powerless.It was a feeling I knew all too well. I felt it when the kids in kindergarten would pick at me for not having a dad.
I felt it when I insisted that my mom get a second opinion about her cancer diagnosis and all that second opinion had done was confirm that she had even less time than we’d expected.
I felt it again as I watched her die in hospice. And then again, when the social worker had come for me and dropped me off in a neighborhood I didn’t recognize, left to live in a house with a woman who resented me, along with at least six other desperate kids.
I soon realized I was actually one of those desperate kids, willing to do anything to feel seen, or in my case, to dull the pain.
I was tired of the pain, but more than anything else, I was tired of feeling powerless.
A stray tear fell from my eye and I wiped it away.
Do something about it. Excuses are for the useless.