The War of Matrimony

By Annie Hartzog Clayton

This story is about a woman named Onyx who blindly went into marriage with a man named Jake, an only child who was suffering from abandonment. Onyx, along with her siblings, was raised by her mother and step-dad and suffered from abuse by her mother. She grew up with low self-esteem, but she met her prince charming, who wined and dined her and treated her with class and gave her the respect she desperately needed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Mar 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490727745

Annie Hartzog Clayton

Annie Clayton Hartzog is a retired widow, living in the suburban of Los Angeles for thirty-eight years, and has raised five children. She worked for the school board for six years as pupil services, counselor’s aide. She retired from the state department and worked part-time for EDD office in Long Beach, California. She spends most of her time entertaining and writing stories. This is her second book and is in the process of writing children’s stories. Her first book is Broken Wings. For a speaking engagement or book club, visit www.meetanniec.com.

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Copyright 2014 Annie Hartzog Clayton.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-2773-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-2774-5 (e)

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Trafford rev. 11/11/2014

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Epilogue

Information On Alzheimer’s

The Author’s Note

About The Author

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T HIS WAS THE HARDEST story I have ever tried to write. Writing and writing and editing and editing, losing the work, crashing and editing again and crying, and crying going through certain parts of the story. If I had known I had to go through this life the way I did, I certainly would have chose life differently. I want to thank my grandson, Andre for helping me with my computer. He knows the computer backwards and forward, and is the best teacher ever, and kept reminding me not to walk away from the computer without saving my work and keep my fingers off certain keys, and most of all, I want to thank you for participating in the Tea Party, serving guest and calling number on raffle tickets. I thank my granddaughter, Andrea for being the best speller in the world, and knows the computer better than me. I know she doesn’t have any patients, and I hated to ask her questions, but sometimes I had to ask anyway. I thought I would never finish this story, because things kept getting in the way, but I was determined to finish it. I want to thank the people I talked to on the phone about my life, and listen to their problems to relieve our pains. I thank the Librarian in Carson California for finding a good editor and wished me good luck, and I can’t ever forget my good friend Wanda who owns Ken’s Ice Cream Parlor, and thank you Wanda for letting me place my business cards on your counter and placing my picture on the wall and just being a nice person. Your Ice Cream Parlor is where everybody goes and sit down and eat ice cream and chat. You taught me a lot about the City of Carson. I also want to thank Mayor Dear for participating in my Elegant Tea Party. Oh I can’t forget my daughter Octavia, for making the beautiful flower arrangements, and donating table and chairs for the affair my friend Debra for being my emcee and staying up all night making sandwiches with me and Jessica until our eyes were puffy, and my neighbor N. Killings, for taking me places to rent and buy supplies and I can’t forget Rosy Truewell for helping me make the invitations and using her scanner and copy machine and most of all, I want to thank the late Edward Leberon, the photographer. He did a wonderful job. I want to thank Cynthia for boosting me and reminding me when was I going to have another Tea Party, and thank everyone who attend the party. Thank you Fredrick Almond for being patient when I needed information to ease my mind. I can’t forget about Debra Fifer for creating the tea cup decorations. She did a wonderful job.

PROLOGUE

T HIS STORY IS ABOUT a woman named Onyx, who went into a marriage blindfolded, to a man named Jake, an only child who was suffering from abandonment. Onyx was raised by her mother and step dad, along with her siblings, and suffered from abuse by her mother. She grew up with a low self esteem, met her prince charming, who wined and dined her, treated her with class and gave her the respect she desperately needed.

They married and had a daughter and a son together, and her husband Jake had a daughter from a previous marriage, a son out of wedlock, and other children by different women. She was told by his close friends, Jake was nicked named, the baby maker. During the forty-years of their marriage, Onyx had to stand and fight with the power of armor through Jesus Christ, trying to prevent Jake from abuse, and controlling the family. She experienced something she thought she would never experience in her life time. She thought she left Satan behind her when she left home to marry Jake, and had no inkling, Satan would be lying low, waiting to attack when he thought the time was right for him. Jake let him rule and use him to the utmost. It was hard trying to get rid of him. The more he tried disguising himself, the more he let himself be known.

He was rotten to the core, a deceiver, a child molester, incest, rape, a liar, drug addict, cheater and money was his God. Satan tried to control everyone in the house, but was having trouble with Onyx, because she was standing in his way. Onyx believed marriage was sacred, and was determined to keep it that way, because of the children, and Jake kept trying to demoralize her spirit. She knew every marriage was different, people have to challenge it in their own way because no one has the same personality. God made it that way. In Onyx’s mind, it was a sin to get a divorce because children need both parents. Satan worked through her mother and Jake, doing everything he knew in his power, trying to get rid of Onyx by being unlawful, and unfaithful, because he was an angry man who lived by a double edge sword and wanted to win, and three years after Jake’s death, Onyx was told by one of her children; Jake was telling them about their sexual activities in the bed. That was unheard of. That blew her mind to no end. The girls knew where Jake was going with that, and why he was telling them that, but the boys may have hated her, not knowing Jake would say anything to make them hate her because he couldn’t have his way. They were young, and more likely to listen to Jake than God. Onyx was determined to stay and protect her children, even if she had to die for it. Yes, Onyx was different, sore and scared, but yet and still, she carried and is carrying Jesus everywhere she goes and know she is saved by the Grace of God.

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S ITTING IN A CHAIR facing Jake at his bedside watching him waste away was challenging. He lost lots of weight since his stay in Sunny Nursing Home. Jake was sixty seven years of age and was diagnosed, Alzheimer, and dementia. He was a nice looking Black man, brown complexion with semi curly gray hair, keen nose and full lips. He use to wear a neatly trimmed medium black mustache, clean shaven and now his teeth were protruding, and jaws sunken. A Black stout female nurse entered the room.

You must be Mrs. Onyx Peterson.

Yes, I answered as the nurse hustled and squeezed her healthy body, between the wall and the bed, and began fluffing his pillow and straitening his sheets and blankets.

How are you Mr. Peterson? We’re going to feed you through intravenous if you don’t eat your food.

Jake’s eyes followed her every move until she left the room. I sat watching in hopes Jake would get better, but he leaned toward me with a mean look in his eyes and face, and yelled.

Go!

I ignored him, thinking maybe he was missing his favorite food. A red wet burrito with beans, rice, cheese and a small cup of salsa. The next day, I went to the nurse’s station and asked a Latino male nurse, if Jake was eating. He chuckled, and said Jake refused to eat. I smiled and said, Maybe Jake will eat because this is his favorite food. As I was entering Jake’s room, he was raising himself from his elbow, giving me a mean look, like he didn’t want to see me. Again, I ignored him because that was one of the things I learned to do. I smiled as I was sitting down to show him a pleasant face. I wanted to kiss him but was afraid of not knowing what to expect. I thought he might slap my face. I didn’t want to chance it.

Look Jake, your favorite food, I said softly as I was opening the box top. Jake brown eyes widen, recognizing his favorite meal, and pointing his finger toward my purse.

Go home, he said in his hollow voice.

Before I could say anything, the nurse walked in with a cup of jello and a carton of milk on his tray.

Hello Mr. Peterson, how are you doing today?

Jake laid staring at her as if she wasn’t there as usual. I’m going to put it right here on your table next to your wife so she can feed you, okay?"

She began straighten his blankets and sheets, fluffing his pillow and cranking his bed slightly up for comfort and left the room.

I forked out a small portion of beef burrito, and leaned toward Jake and placed it between his lips. He wouldn’t open his mouth.

Well maybe you want jello and milk I said softly. I closed the box top and spooned a little lime jello and touched his lips with the spoon, and to my surprise, he barley opened his mouth and took a couple of teaspoons full, and sipped his milk with a straw and leaned back to rest on his side and told me to leave again. All of a sudden I felt nauseous, and my stomach began to churn, feeling like I wanted to heave. I couldn’t understand why I was feeling ill. I got up and slowly walked to the lounge and bought a 7up from the vending machine, sat at a table and began sipping for fifteen minutes, and decided to go to the restroom, and sat on the commode until I felt better. After arriving in Jake’s room, I could see his feet dangling on the side of his bed, looking up at me, and said for me to leave once again. I felt bad, feeling rejected, knowing he didn’t want me in his presents, but on the other hand, I felt it was my duty as a wife, no matter what the circumstances were in the past. Jake was the evilest man I have encountered, and was fighting me to the very end. I got up and grabbed my purse and walked out of the room. Driving home was difficult, trying to see through the tidal waves of tears swelling and lying on the rims of my eyelids. I thought about being married forty years, and it took me forty years, trying to understand him. Good, bad or indifference.

Going through lots of horrifying and unbelievable mental issues, and stress I endured, were horrific.

The only one who knew my pains was God.

Why? I asked God, forgetting not to ask him why. I cried more, trying to see though the salty waters sitting on my lashes splashing from my eyes. I thought about running away and never returning because at that point I knew I jumped out of the frying pan into the fire, and needed to see a psychiatrist because something was definitely wrong with this picture. We have a daughter and a son together and they were my first priority. I knew my mother was not going to welcome me and my kids with open arms, and I didn’t want to live on the streets with my children, and living from pillow to post, knowing it would be too dangerous, and didn’t want another man in my life because I needed to protect my children. I couldn’t take that chance, and mixed emotions arrived.

One night a spirit came over me and at that moment, I knew I had to be strong and decided to stay home and fight it out, because I realized the streets were dangerous. Jake and I met when we were in our twenties, and both of us were living with our parents. I was borne and raised in Los Angeles California and Jake was born and raised in Houston Texas, and married at a young age to a girl in high school, and a daughter was born named Yolanda Peterson. I met Jake six months after he arrived home from the Army with an honorable discharge. Annabel was Jake’s mother first cousin. Relatives and close friends called her Sis, and Jake called her Mama Dear, her brother next to her was Andrew, and Jake called him Uncle Boy. The youngest was Connie and they called her Babe and Hattie Mae Peterson was their mother. She had five children and two died at child birth. Annabel, Andrew and Connie were in their late thirties and none of them could conceive. Annabel and Connie favored their mother Hattie Mae. The women were husky, dark brown complexion, short fine hair, and wore bifocals. Andrew was a shade lighter than the girls. His head was bald and shiny, thick features, medium frame and medium in height, and a mole on the side of his lip. Annabel had a mole, the size of a small grape on the side of her nose, Connie had a mole between her brows and if Hattie had one, it was hidden. They were unattractive people, and seem harsh, stern and strict and seldom laughed, and when they did laugh or smile, it seemed harsh or forced. They took their time when they spoke, and their eyes said it all. They were Christians, and spent their lives reading the Bible, going to Church, Conventions, and doing for others. Even though they were unattractive, they stood tall looking arrogant. No one could tell them any difference.

One afternoon, Hattie was preparing dinner and heard a knock at the screen door. Come on in, Hattie yelled. Mama Hattie was a mid-wife and had a niece named Irene. Irene arrived at her house eight months pregnant and wanted to know if Mama Hattie would deliver her baby. Irene wobbled in the kitchen, pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, saying she couldn’t stay home with her mother because her mother said she never wanted to see the baby as long as she lived, and if she decides to return home, she had to be alone. In fact, Irene already had a two year old son named Ray by another man, and now she was pregnant again.

Irene was a pretty dark skin girl with shoulder length black hair, with small features and a small frame. Her mother hated Marvin Lee. Lee’s nickname was red bull because his white complexion turned red when he drank liquor. Lee was a handsome man with straight black hair, grayish eyes, keen features, and smooth skin, medium height, and spoke with a southern accent. His grandfather was an Irish Scholar who bought a twelve year old Black Cherokee slave to be his wife’s housemaid, and impregnated her, and a son was born. Two months later his wife gave birth to a baby boy. Jake showed me pictures of his great, great grandmother, sitting on a porch, holding her baby in her arms, and another picture of the master and his wife sitting in a horse and carriage, and his little black slave, sitting in the back seat holding her baby.

February eleventh, nineteen thirty-seven, Irene gave birth to a baby boy. He looked like a White baby, straight black hair, light eyes, and spitting image of his dad. Mama Hattie wrapped him in a blanket and Andrew, Annabel and Connie marveled over him one by one, and named the baby William and nicked named him Billy Homer. He was their bundle of joy, and was over joyed. Having a baby in the house was something they would cherish the rest of their lives.

Since Andrew was the man of the house, he threatened Irene, telling her if she think, or ever thought about coming back to get the baby, it would break their hearts and for that, he would hunt her down like a mad dog and hurt her.

Irene vowed to never return. Lee and Irene married at the Hall of Justices, moved to Los Angeles, California and took Ray with them, and opened a cleaning business. Lee had natural talents. He was a tailor by trade, managed a dry cleaners, and was a painter and an artist. He use to take a taxi, or ride a streetcar or a bus, and ride downtown to window shop. He kept a pencil and a writing pad in his top pocket and stood in front of department store windows and sketched clothing on mannequins, go home and make patterns out of newspaper. He was a jack of all trades. He was always dressed in freshly starched white shirts, wore black suspenders with his black, brown or gray slacks, and wore a black or gray felt stingy brim hat, with a small feather inside the hat band.

Lee worked six days a week and closed shop at six thirty in the evening, and went straight home and gave Irene money he earned. Irene was a housewife, and went to the bank every Monday and deposit it in their savings account. Jake said Lee was too cheap to buy a house, and rented a small two-bedroom duplex and never owned a car, but he got around and did the things he needed to do.

Lee and his friends were heavy drinkers on the weekends and whenever his daddy drank, he would turned red as a beet, and his hair stood straight up like a whisk broom. He looked wild from drinking, and never missed Church on Sundays. Irene never drank liquor. Lee and Irene, Annabel and Henry belonged to the same Church. Irene sung in the choir, Lee was an usher, Annabel directed the youth choir and Henry sat in the pews.

Jake was special to the Peterson’s. They gave him their last name, the women spoiled him and Andrew gave him tough love. Jake said before he went out to play, Annabel brushed his hair one way, when he came back in the house to get a drink of water, Connie brushed it another way and before he went to bed, Uncle Boy brushed it again.

Jake said when he was eight years of age uncle boy married a beautiful Black, tall, slim, elegant woman, moved to San Francisco and took Jake with them. A year latter, Andrew wife became ill and passed away. Her illness was unknown. Andrew packed Jake’s clothes and put him on a train and sent him back to Houston Texas to live with Mama Hattie, Annabel and Connie.

Six months later, Connie married a Pastor, and moved to Seaside, California and build a Church. He was known as Reverend Robert Jake Johnson. Connie gave Jake her husband middle name, and wanted Jake to live with them, but mama Hattie wouldn’t hear of it and said she wanted Annabel to raise him because she was alone.

At age fourteen, Jake had grown taller, buffed, looking like Mandingo, and now his hair was semi curly. His beautiful peach complexion matched his light brown eyes and he was becoming handsomer. Annabel left Jake home most of the time due to her devotion and dedicated her life in the Church, and did her missionary duties in different parts of the States, and needed someone to tend to Jake for a week. She asked her cousin Beatrice if she would see after him because she needed someone to look after Jake while he was in school and make sure he did his homework. Jake said every time he returned home from school, Beatrice made him sit on the porch until dusk, and sometimes Beatrice refused to feed him dinner. She didn’t like Jake because he was rotten to the core and the Peterson’s thought he could do no wrong, and put him on a pedestal. Beatrice nickname is bea. Cousin bea was a short small framed lady, her dark golden brown skin highlighted her cheek bones. She was half Black and Cherokee with long straight black hair, and a feisty woman. Her teeth were brown from chewing tobacco, and lips were always wet. Word got around that Bea had a sister with lots of kids and wanted the Peterson’s to raise one of her sons, but they refused because he was unattractive.

Every Saturday evening, Mama Hattie, Annabel, Connie, bea and a couple of friends lounged around their pretty lace under slip and crochet dollies, gossip about their neighbors and the congregation. They starched and ironed beautiful ducks, swans and different shapes of bowls and placed them on tables, leaving them standing straight. Jake sat in a chair in the corner watching and listening to the ladies conversations. The phone rang, and Bea got up to answer it. It was Irene calling Jake to wish him a happy birthday.

Here boy, it’s for you. It’s yo mama, Bea said. Jake didn’t move.

You hear me talking to you boy? Bea said again as she was squinting her beady eyes at Jake.

Oh you’re talking to me? Jake asked sarcastically, pointing his finger toward his chest. Cousin Bea stood extending her arm holding the phone with one hand, and the other on her hip. This is my mama right here," he said as he was pointing to Annabel. Beatrice laid the receiver on the Mahogany table and walked toward the ironing board. Jake slowly rose from his seat and slowly placing the receiver to his ear.

Happy birthday son, Irene said.

You ain’t none of my mama, my mama is sitting right here. Irene cried and Lee snatched the phone from her and questioned Jake.

What did you say to your mother to make her cry? Jake blasted him.

You ain’t none of my daddy, and you can’t tell me nothing. I’ll kick your ass until your nose bleed, you motha fucka. Jake slammed the receiver down, turned, and took a couple of skips toward the door and slammed the screen door behind him. His anger took a toll on him causing tears to leap from his eyes. Annabel sat looking over her thick eyeglasses, gleaming as she stuck her chest out proudly, still crocheting with a sly grin.

Everyone in the room, jaws dropped to hear such language. Jake began to act out more, and words began to travel through the family about Jake’s behavior. Rev Johnson phoned Lee to tell him he needed to take Jake from Annabel, and take him home because Jake had gotten out of hand.

All Sis is doing, is spoiling him something terrible, Reverend Johnson said with a frown.

Reverend, I can’t do nothing about it. It’s too late, cause one of us will get killed.

One morning Jake was emptying the trash in the incinerator, when a fourteen year old girl named Pauline, came up from behind him and slapped him upside his head and ran. Jake dropped the trash basket and chased after her, caught her by the waist of her dress, and slung her to the ground. She got up, raised her dress to see her scrapped knees, brushed herself off and ran home. Jake turned around and walked back to the incinerator to finish emptying the trash and picking up loose trash that was lingering on the ground. Later that evening, Pauline mother was knocking on Annabel’s door, pointing her finger at Annabel, scolding her as she was holding her daughter’s dress up, telling her what Jake did to her daughter. Annabel stood looking dumb founded, and said she was sorry that happened and would make sure the dress would be mended by that afternoon. Annabel punished Jake by giving him a needle and thread, showed him how to sew seams, and made him sit on the front porch and sew the dress in front of his friends. He was embarrassed but he obeyed and sewed the dress.

Jake did well in junior high school, played in a band and became a majorette.

In high school, he played football and became a star. His picture was always in the local newspaper and school Pathfinders. When banquet time arrived, no one was there to represent or support him when he was awarded with trophies, because his family was too busy attending Conventions and many Church functions. Hattie was elderly, Annabel was away, Connie and her husband moved to Seaside, California, and Lee and Irene were living in California, and Jake’s classmates were smiling, taking pictures with their relatives. Jake became lonely, bitter and resentful. He began asking questions about his blood relatives, because he never knew his biological grandparents. Annabel told him, his grandmother and grandfather on Lee side of the family died a long time ago, and Irene mama and daddy was living, but that grandmother didn’t want to have anything to do with him and never wanted to see him as long as she lived. His grandfather owned a Barber Shop on Leaf street, where Jake past frequently, walking home from school. When prom time arrived, Jake asked a girl in his senior year, to be his date for the prom. She was honored because Jake was a football star. The week before the prom, Jake reached in his closet and retrieved a pair of shoes, sat on the side of the bed, and began spit shining them from one side to another, until he could see his face. He looked at the sole of his shoes and saw a big hole, and the other side was flapping. He decided to cut out a piece of cardboard and a wad of chewing gum and placed it inside of his shoe, and around the flap on the other shoe. Prom night, Jake had to slow dance with his feet dragging, making sure no one could see the bottom of his shoes.

During the month of March, a cold briskly evening, Jake was walking home from school, wearing his Letterman jacket and carrying his books across his shoulder, when he thought he heard someone yelling out his name.

Jake’s grandfather was cutting hair when he saw Jake passing the shop. He stopped cutting hair, grabbed his newspaper and ran outside, not wanting Jake to get away, knowing he wanted to show Jake off to his co-workers and clients.

Billy Homer! Come here boy, he yelled. Jake stopped, slightly turning around and saw it was his granddaddy, standing outside of the Barber Shop with newspapers in his hand, waving it at Jake to come back. Jake’s grandfather was a nice looking tall, thin framed Black man, standing tall, proudly wearing his white smock and a comb in one hand and paper in the other, grinning from ear to ear. Jake turned