Imperfect

O N E - L A W R E N C E M U L L I N S

  Foggy mornings make you want to stay in bed all day, but I wasn't.

  Instead, I was getting out of my car to meet a woman at a packed coffee shop, Morning Fix.

  Right away, as I entered inside, I saw the lady who I was supposed to be meeting, Cynthia Russell.

  Abigale's cousin was sitting at a table that was right by the store's glass window.

  "Glad you could show up this morning." Cynthia Russell said smiling to me as I sought down at her table across from her.

  "Why did you want to meet up?" I asked her, really not interested in staying at the coffee shop any longer than a couple of minutes.

  "Why the rush," she asked still smiling, "Can I ask my cousin-in-law to come meet up with me in the morning?"

  I crossed my arms, not interested in staying, waiting for Cynthia to give me a true reason why she asked me to come at the coffee shop.

  "I just," she began to say and then drink some of her coffee; "I just wanted to get to know my cousin-in-law a little better."

  "Please, call me Lawrence," I said impatiently, "nothing less, nothing more."

  Getting the idea that I didn't want to be there, she cut to the point very quickly, "Why do you want Abigale? Why do you want to be with 'Abby the Labby'? Why do you want HER?"

  "Because," I smiled while explaining to Abigale's nosey cousin, "she's just like me. We both are equal, the same."

  Laughing at my statement, Cynthia went on, "You have a lot in common with Abigale? How's that?"

  Holding a tight grip on the air, trying to compose myself in the right manner, I politely said, "We have a lot I'm common."

  Not taking anything serious and continuing to laugh, the nosey cousin went on, "So, you're black too?"

  Outraged and disappointed in the woman's behavior, I got up from the seat and threw her cup of coffee on the floor, quickly alarming the other customers and workers.

  "Hey buddy," an employee called from behind the counter, "you're going to have to clean that up."

  Ignoring the responsive employee, I left out of the packed coffee shop, energized with boiling anger.

  Shortly after, Cynthia followed right behind me, begging me to come back inside.

  The craziest part about all of this was that Cynthia continued to laugh after getting me angered, as if it was a joke to her.

  "Why do you laugh," I asked her with steam coming from me, "what's so funny that has you laughing so damn much?"

  "Who wants a girl like 'Abigale Russell'? A girl that has cuts and burns on her body; who would want a girl that was abused and beaten on by her own uncle, abused by his kids too?"

  All of the information that Cynthia had told me didn't overwhelm me; didn't overwhelm me one bit. I've been known about Abigale's past, a year after we met.

  Before the years of Abigale's sister leaving, years before they were even in high school, one year in the summer, Abigale's parents decided to take a "couple vacation" to Florida.

  Darrell and Terri left their two daughters with their uncle, Michael Stevens, Terri's brother.

  During my fiance's stay, Abigale was abused physically by her uncle and his children, who were a few years older than her.

  Not only was she abused physically by the family, she was also mistreated. She was told to do stuff every second, with no break.

  The physical abuse only went far as beating harshly with belts, paddles, and extension cords. They caused permanent bruises on her leg.

  Michael's children had no remorse for what they did to their little cousin.

  When little Abigale was sleep, her own cousins would burn her with small pieces of metal that were laid on the stove or from fire burning all through the night outside. They placed the metals on her stomach.

  To make it worse, if Abigale cried during the burning procedure, they would cut her also with a pocket knife to keep her mouth shut.

  Torture, she went through pure torture from her own family.

  After Darrell and Terri found out about the horrible situation, they didn't let their two kids go over there anymore.

  Darrell wanted to press charges, but being her family, Terri denied him to do so.

  Although they didn't press charges against Michael and his children, they never had anything to do with them again.

  After that, Terri and Darrell decided to move to Atlanta, where Darrell's family lived.

  Although I was not there, I could still picture the horrible situations that my fiance had went through back when she was a child.

  At that moment, I was picturing. I was... kissed; my "picturing" stage was interrupted by a kiss.

  At that moment, picturing my fiance's abuse was far from my memory now.

  Both hands rested on the cheeks of my face as her lips pressed against mine.

  As her spit was going into my mouth, I regurgitated the spit back into her mouth with disgust, pushing her far away from me.

  "What are you doing, Cynthia?" I asked her more angrily than before.

  "You know you want this; you know you want me over 'Abby the Labby'."

  "You are not family," I went on with an angry tone, "family don't do this to each other. You are a nosey, jealous, and bitter woman who doesn't want to see your own blood happy!"

  Although she was speechless, Cynthia still had a smile on her face as if she accomplished something.

  Right then and there, Abigale's cousin showed her true colors not only to me, but to her own family.