From out of the Darkness

I was your typical sophomore teenager, who am I kidding, there wasn't anything typical about me. I stood 5’9”, super skinny, but I had a big set of boobs. Thanks to my German side. I was super active, running track and taking dance class-I loved to dance. I was everyone's friend. I haven’t had a boyfriend yet, not that I didn’t want one; it just wasn't my time. But little did I know that it was about to change. For some strange reason, my dad started playing Cupid. There was this guy named Sylvester Perkins, but everyone called him Frank. I have known him since middle school. He worked in the student store with my sister. I'm still not quite sure how my daddy knew him. But all of a sudden, my daddy kept talking about him to me. He's a great guy, very polite, and he's wise beyond his years. I would tell my daddy, he sounds great. Yeah, my daddy said, with his eyebrows raised. Yeah, Daddy, you date him then. But he would still talk about him. Every time I went into the student store, he would try to flirt with me. Now I seemed cool and collected on the outside, but I was super nervous and shy. But, ssh, don't tell anybody. I had a reputation as a little bad ass, quick to pop off. So little by little, we would talk in passing. He was super cute and had a nice build. He dressed nicely and always smelled good. One day, which happened to be my birthday, my sister and her friends tackled me to the ground to get their birthday hits in. After fighting them all off. I see him standing there with a clipboard, a damn clipboard! I jumped up so quickly. I said, "Just what do you plan to do with that?" He said, “Well, I was going to give you your 16 hits. I said, " With what? " He said this or my hand. I said how about neither. He said, “Can I have a kiss instead?” I tried not to look shocked; I said I had a headache and I hurried off. I didn't even look back. You have a headache, Joni, really? I said to myself. I see him later that day. He gave me a grape soda, said happy birthday, and then asked for my phone number. I gave him mine, and he gave me his. And that was the start. My first boyfriend, my first everything. It was so serious that I even introduced him to my grandmother. So much to the point that I don't really think that I was ready for this type of relationship. But what did I know? This may be how it’s supposed to be. This is what being in a relationship was about.

Both of my parents said that he was wise beyond his years. He had always dated older girls. Here I was trying to act extremely confident, but I was naive as hell. I just went along with everything. I had no clue as to what I was doing. Don't get me wrong, I was head over heels in love with him. He was so different, so grown, and he was mine. He had no clue just how innocent I was. We never had an argument or a fight. But I wouldn't say it was perfect either. At times, it almost felt one-sided. What I mean is, he said that he felt like I wasn’t giving him my whole heart, and I felt like he had one foot out the door. Not so much out of this relationship, but just not completely there. About a year into the relationship, I felt him pulling away. He wasn't really talking to me or as to what was going on. But he would say that he felt like he wasn't going to be here for long. I felt like someone punched me in the gut. Then he would say, but I wouldn't do that to you or my mom. I wasn't quite sure how to take that. I saw him every day. Family functions we were together. But I still felt him pulling away. Family members started to see it too. One time, we were on the phone talking, and his uncle said, "Are you begging that girl again? We laughed. We finally got together and talked. I opened my heart to him completely. But something was still quite off. When we had half days at school, I always went over to his house. But on this day, I did not go, and for the life of me, I cannot tell you why I didn’t. Every day, he would come over around 6:30 pm after work. 6:30 pm on the dot, the doorbell rings. I jumped up to answer it. It was his sister Lyssa. I thought to myself, she must be coming to get me and take me to him. She walked in boldly and sat on the couch. She said, “Come here, I want to talk to you.” I went and sat next to her. She said there was an accident and Frank died. I just stared at her. My dad, stepmom, and sister were there. I didn’t say anything, I just got up and went to the kitchen. Everyone ran after me. I just wanted to call my mom. My little brother answered the phone. He was only 3 years old. He was playing on the phone. By then, I was boo-hoo crying. When my mom got to the phone, I was a mess. The only thing that I could get out was mom, he’s dead. My dad had to take the phone as I had dropped to the floor. My dad explained to her what happened. I went back to Lyssa, who was very well composed. I told her that I wanted to see their mom. She said OK, let's go.

By the time we got there, it was a full house. As soon as I walked in, his dad grabbed me and held me. I broke down. This man, I thought, never liked me. He always said that I took up too much of Frank’s time. He just held me and let me cry. I made it through the house into the family room to his mom. I fell to her feet and put my head in her lap. I cried, and she just held me. I didn’t think of it at that moment; I was only thinking that I just lost the love of my life, but they lost their only son. He was the baby. Hell, he was Sylvester Frank Perkins Jr. The only boy out of five girls," Ms. Shirley pulled my face up to meet her and asked me if he was happy?” I thought so, but my mind went racing back to his words. I won't be here for long. He lied; he said that he wouldn’t do that to us. He told me to give him all of me, and when I did, he left me. He left me completely shattered. We were supposed to get married and have a baby girl, Raniesha Shante Nicole Perkins. But he left me alone. I didn't realize it then, but a part of me died with him. It wasn't supposed to end... at all. We had a plan. He left me. Why? That was the beginning of my descent into darkness. Even though people try to comfort you, what words could comfort you at a time like this?

I had to put on a brave face, but I was broken. That happened in 1981. I have yet to get over it. Time heals all wounds, they say. Does it? A wound leaves a scar, and this scar was deep, really deep. Fast forward a year, and I tried dating. I met a guy who lived up the block; his name was Earl. We dated for a year, but he wasn't serious. One day, we were sitting on his front porch. His mother came out and said that he is going to mess around and fall in love, and Joni, it’s going to be you. He said no way. You see, we used to break up, get back together, break up, and get back together. He once told me that he always felt like he was competing with a ghost. Without realizing it, I was looking for Frank. One time, I was at a slumber party with some neighborhood girls. There was a girl whom I didn't know who was talking about this Playboy at their school. My friend looked at me and wanted to stop the girl from talking, but I motioned her not to. This girl went on to talk about him and his many escapades. When she was done, she looked at me, and I guess by the expression on my face, asked me if I knew him. My friend said yes, this is his girlfriend. What could she possibly say after that? It was about 1:30 am, I called him to come get me. It was just around the corner. He came to take me home. It was a gorgeous night with a full moon. He looked at me and said his mom was right and that he loved me. What a sucker I was! There I was back with him again. Yes, after all that! But there was something else, my period was late. I went to the doctor next week, and yes, I was pregnant. When I got home, my dad said," So what did they say?” I said, “What?” He said, “Joni Katherine, your body has changed. I know that you are pregnant.” Now it was time to tell Earl. The conversation started ok but quickly escalated. Neither one of us was ready to be parents, hell, we just graduated from high School. I lost it, and I had to lose him. This toxic relationship had to end. That sank me deeper into darkness. But chin UP! I’m going to tuck away and move on.

I joined the Marine Corps, and I loved it. I was sailing along pretty well. too. Meritoriously promoted, a couple of accommodations. I picked up E4 in under 2 years. Then suddenly, my daddy started exhibiting signs that something was wrong. He didn't believe that I was in the service; he thought I was being held captive somewhere he could hear me crying for help. I called my Pawpaw, and my family jumped into action to get him some help. I went home on leave to show him that I was ok. When I got there, he was fine. After spending a few days with him, I returned to my duty station.

Fast forward a few years, and I was married with two kids, still in the Marine Corps. I went on this thirty-day training assignment. Three weeks in, and I got hurt. I thought, and they thought I broke my back. I couldn't move or feel my legs. I had jumped into a foxhole with my knees locked. Everyone gathered around to help me out and wanted to see if I could walk. I took one step and collapsed. It felt like someone stabbed me in the back. Oh boy, all of that practicing of first aid, they began strapping me to a table. They called for a helicopter. I am not sure if I was panicking because of my back or because some helicopters had crashed recently. The crazy part is that we were joking about getting medevac’d out of the field, and I ended up getting injured. So seriously that it ended my seven-year career. I had to get out, medically discharged. Talk about a huge disappointment. Started something that I really loved, I was great at, and it was cut short. Three days later, I found out I was pregnant with baby number three. So, we packed up and followed my husband to St. Louis, MO, for the next three years. It was a tumultuous three years. Talk about emotional scaring as if I didn't have enough. But the good news is we got orders back to the West Coast. I have not been back home in three years.

There had been some things that were happening while I was gone. So, we took a trip to see my daddy and his wife. It was his first time seeing my youngest daughter. It was great seeing him, but something seemed off. It was a short visit, but we had planned to come back up to LA to see my niece graduate and go into middle school. That weekend came. We drove up through San Diego; we stopped to do a little shopping, and we had just bought a new house. One store became five stores, and that’s as far as we got when we turned around and went back home. We got home around one in the morning. I noticed that there were some messages on our answering machine, four to be exact. I put the kids in their beds and went to listen to the messages. The first three were from my sister, and they all said the same thing: "No matter what time you get home, call me". The last message was from her boyfriend; Lucifer is what I called him. His message said the same thing. So, I called. She said my daddy was dead, that he killed himself. I just started screaming, and my husband came running. I dropped to the floor crying. No, no, no. It can't be. I was supposed to be somewhere, again, and I didn't go, and he's dead. Why Twice? Do you know what that does to the strongest of people, let alone someone who has been weakened like me? Hell, my last wound hasn't healed. Again, I am shattered. How strong am I supposed to be and for how long? Someone once told me it's because God needs you to be strong for something else.

I put on a brave face for years, taped up my broken pieces, and tried to move on, while trying to raise kids as a single parent. Yep, I got divorced. And I am carrying guilt and disappointment. Do you know how exhausting that is? Let me tell you, it’s almost like suffocating. You are trying to tread water while it feels like everyone on the Titanic is holding on to you for support. I'm not going to lie, there were times when I felt like "letting go, Jack." What if I started to see life through my father’s eyes? I spent so many nights, after my kids went to bed, lying in my tub crying. One night, and it was a bad night, my son knocked on the door because he didn't feel good. Little did he know he saved me. Another bad night, my sissy Nanny called me. We always seemed to be in sync with each other at the right times. She saved me. Another night, my Sister Meloni called me at the right time. She saved me. My four little sweet faces (yes, I had another baby) were the driving force for me to continue treading water. I could not shatter their world; it wasn't fair to them.

It has taken me from 1981 to 2003 to finally admit to and seek help. All these years, I have been mistaken and held on to guilt disguised as responsibility. I felt responsible for their deaths because in both cases, I was supposed to have been there and have always felt that I could have prevented it. Through getting help, I was corrected that responsibility and guilt are not the same thing, and I can't be held responsible. I was beginning to see some light.

I am telling my story not only to begin healing for myself, but if I can help just one person, and that one person can help another. God uses me as a vessel. A smile, or a phone call, or how are you doing today, can be all that the person needs to hear to keep treading.