Out of the Box

I feel the need for another disclaimer here. Ray told me decades ago that he knew I was gonna write a book one day, and he gave me permission to write whatever I wanted about him as long as I share the proceeds with him — pffff. With that permission, I’ve felt as free as I have to share openly about our relationship, especially since my purpose is not to make money, or to trash him, but to spread hope.

I can’t claim to know a whole bunch about his family, nor do I want to offend anyone. But Ray told me some horrific stories about his childhood. He was born with one leg deformed, so the doctors amputated just below the knee to give him the chance to walk with a prosthetic. He had to have surgeries his entire childhood to cut off the bone that kept growing. His mother had a really hard time being a single mom of 4 boys, dated some really abusive men who also abused Ray. He also told me stories of not having any food in the house and eating raw onions off the road that had fallen off the harvesting trucks.

Rays mom put them into a children’s home when she felt she could no longer care for them properly. Ray told me he ran away all the time and would go home to her, but she would take him back. She would go visit every Saturday, and he looked forward to those visits with all of his being. He always told me his mom was his best friend & he spoke fondly of memories of them singing “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” together.

One Saturday when he was 12, he was waiting for her to arrive when he received the news that she had been killed in a drunk driving accident on New Year’s Eve. He spoke of the agonizing heartbreak he felt that morning all the time.

He went to live with his dad in California after that. From all my understanding, his dad was extremely abusive, had mental health issues and did drugs. So Ray learned how to do drugs when he was 12 years old. He was super smart though, and made it through high school doing everything all the other kids did—even played sports. He was super handsome and charming and was popular with the ladies. When he wasn’t yelling, he was always laughing— and that laugh was infectious. I can only imagine that when he was younger, he was even more vibrant.

He married young to the most beautiful young lady & they had 3 beautiful kids. But the emotional & spiritual parts of him never developed. He had no role models and he did a lot of drugs. That can’t be used as an excuse, but it definitely led to them having the same issues that we had. They divorced and he back moved out to Texas to live with his step dad. I guess I met him just a couple weeks after he arrived. His step dad was extremely abusive when I met him, and from what I understand, even more so when Ray was young.

That’s the gist of his life, without going into too many details. He told me these details in a matter-of-fact way… as one would tell any mundane detail of their story. He was never asking for sympathy… not for his leg or for any of the situations he had found himself in. He was talking, like he thought it was all normal. To me, it was no wonder that he was in the condition he was in now, at 29 years old. During the good moments we were together, he told me even more stories that rendered me incapable of giving up on him. I just wanted to love him through it.

One of the amazing families at church had a little studio apartment that they rented to us in September of that year. I was excited because I felt like we could spend the next two months of my pregnancy getting ready for the baby. Instead, once we were out of Gramma’s house, he just felt more free to stay gone all the time and yell at me when he was home.

Around this time, I really started talking to my dad a lot more. He was living in Colorado, but he came to visit us a lot. By then, I had a little sister in addition to my brother. He introduced me to them and I got to know them, as well as my dad’s precious wife. He also sent me money a bunch of times that got us through the times Ray was jobless or spent all his paychecks on drugs.

November came upon us. The doctors had already told me I was going to have to have a C-section so the surgery was planned for November 3. I spent all of November 2 watching the OJ Simpson verdict on TV, writing Bible verses down for Ray to read while I was gone. I myself had been doing a lot of reading the Bible. There’s nothing like the anticipation of bringing a child into the world! I wanted to understand and do everything right—even though I still really didn’t understand what I was reading. I was reading through the lens of my upbringing, but I was absorbing scriptures at least. I was praying that seeing his baby would be the catalyst Ray needed to snap out of his funk. I was hopeful he would turn his life to God & then we could spend the rest of our lives doing whatever it was that God wanted us to do.

My car had finally given out so the next morning Mom gave us a ride to the hospital before dawn. I got prepped for surgery & opted for an epidural so I could be awake when the baby was born. Finally it was time & Ray was seated by my head. After what seemed like forever of being yanked around, I heard tiny little cries. I heard the doctors say “it’s a girl!” Ray was super excited & said, “There she is Les! There’s our little girl!” Tears began rolling down my face & my heart was so full it almost exploded. Ray left to be with the baby & the doctors stitched me up. After that, he said he needed to get home … and I didn’t see him for the rest of the time I was in the hospital.

That night they wheeled my sweet little Jordyn into my room. I’m not sure why it took all day for them to bring her to me, but it did. I couldn’t get up due to the surgery but I sat there staring at that little face in awe. I couldn’t believe I was a mother!!!! I was determined to make sure she had everything that she deserved. Just as a side note …. Ray and I had had multiple discussions about what we were going to name her. After many, many, many rounds of going back and forth, he finally agreed that Jordyn was a cool name. He knew I was choosing it because of my all-time most giant celebrity crush ever, Jordan Knight. But he said he would pretend it was for Michael Jordan, as long as he got to choose the middle name.

When I was finally discharged from the hospital 3 days later, Mom gave us a ride home. I was super emotional already – glaring at the other cars on the freeway, making sure they weren’t even thinking about crashing into us with my baby in the car. We stopped at the store & “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You” was playing on the intercom. I looked at my Jordyn’s little face & started sobbing. I was just so overcome by it all. We got home & I laid my precious baby on the bed & stared at her some more, excited about our new life.

The hopeful excitement didn’t last even a day. I had spent the beginning of the month in the hospital & that’s when our food stamps were issued. The day after I got home, I came to find out that Ray had sold them all while I was in there. I didn’t know what we were going to do. When I confronted him, he blew up. He said, “Why did you do this to me, Les? I told you I didn’t want to be a dad again. I told you I couldn’t do it.” He flew into a rage that was even worse than his usual fits. I didn’t know what to do. We didn’t have a car or a phone. There was a store with a pay phone not too far away, but it was starting to get dark, so it was too late to call Mom without setting Fred off. And I couldn’t let Gramma or my Aunt Leila know how he was acting. I didn’t want them to hate him. So I put my baby in the harness carrier I had gotten as a gift, grabbed a diaper bag and a blanket, and started walking.

I didn’t know where I was going to go, but I walked. I finally headed in the direction of the church. There was a parsonage on campus where the pastors lived. We had gotten a new pastor and I didn’t know him or his wife as well as I had the ones who left. In fact, I can’t even remember their names now— but I didn’t know where else to go. Thankfully, it was only about a mile from our apartment — but at 4 days post-op carrying a baby, every step was excruciating.

I got to their house and knocked on the door, sobbing. Needless to say, they were shocked and didn’t really know what to say. The pastor offered to go talk to Ray to pray with him and try to talk some sense in him. I was hopeful that Ray would listen to him —but he came back looking very defeated and said that Ray had slammed the door in his face. I wanted to go back home, but the pastor & his wife insisted I sleep in their spare room for the night.

The spare room and the bed were really, really cozy. My heart was broken, but it did feel really nice to be somewhere safe, warm & calm. I cuddled up with my Jordyn and we actually slept really good.

My aging brain fails me again because I don’t remember the next day. I’m not sure how we made up, but we did— just to go back to the same dysfunctional chaos.

I do remember one day, I went outside and sat down on the step in front of our apartment. Ray was MIA & I was stuck there, watching traffic go by. I was thinking about each car that passed. I wondered where those people were going … what special activities they had planned for the day. It was so unbelievable to me that other people had actual lives and this was mine now. I looked down at my precious baby and wondered what was going to happen to her. Like…Seriously, how was this our life?

Just as full hopelessness was setting in, a familiar car was coming down the driveway. It was Stanley McCarty. He parked the car, walked over to me, didn’t say a word. He sat down next to me, took the baby out of my lap and held her in his. He was staring at her & then she smiled a little baby smile. He chuckled & put his arm around me and squeezed me tight. He surely knew my life was a disaster… but he didn’t have to say anything & neither did I. Yet again, just for a moment, I didn’t feel so alone. After a while he told me he was on his way to get a haircut and saw us there so he decided to stop by.

I could say more about this time period, but it would all sound so repetitive. Just a bunch of yelling, name calling, spending all the money, borrowing money from everyone I knew, loneliness & sadness. My dad did wind up getting us a car. It was in rough shape but it got us around for a while.

In late January/early February, I started feeling weird again and I told my mom about it. She sent my sister Lisa over with a pregnancy test. I went into the bathroom and … sure enough. When Ray got home I told him I needed to tell him something. He said, “you’re pregnant aren’t you?” I was terrified but confirmed. He just shook his head, laughed in disbelief, & went to sleep.