I kept seeing Odell and that woman and those children in my head. What I’d heard him say was ringing in my ears over and over. At one point I covered my ears and closed my eyes. But I could still see and hear him in my mind. They looked like the perfect American family. That woman was living the life I’d been cheated out of. She’d been blessed with three children, and I hadn’t had one. What could I have done for God to let this happen to me? I regretted that last thought immediately. One thing I didn’t need to do was blame God for Odell’s actions. I still had enough faith left to believe that something positive would come out of this nightmare.

My mind played tricks on me as I wandered up and down streets I’d never been on before. My head was spinning, I was seeing dots in front of my eyes, and my insides felt like somebody had tied them in knots. If all that wasn’t bad enough, I felt like I had fallen into a black hole that didn’t have a bottom. With so much going on, I was still determined not to let Odell’s behavior destroy me. I had to pull myself out of that hole now. That thought was enough to jolt me back to reality. I suddenly felt stronger.

However, despite the fact that I was feeling better, I still roamed around until my legs started cramping.

When I finally came to another restaurant with colored people going in, I went in, too. It was a dreary-looking rib joint with dingy windows, a gummy floor, and mismatched tablecloths. There was a small Christmas tree loaded down with ornaments and tinsel sitting on a table in a corner. With all the satisfied-looking patrons gobbling up their ribs so fast, I knew I couldn’t have picked a better place to hole up in until I felt relaxed enough to make my next move. “Merry Christmas, ma’am,” a cute young waitress greeted at the door.

“Um . . . the same to you.” I was in such a daze, I almost tripped over my feet. Christmas—and no other day—would ever be “merry” for me again.

“Sit wherever you want. I’ll get you a menu.”

“I don’t need a menu. I just want a glass of water.” I dropped down into a metal chair at a table with squeaky legs a few feet away from the door.

“I’m sorry. You have to order something if you want to sit at this table. Otherwise, I can give you some water, but you’ll have to take it to go.”

“I’d like a rib sandwich.”

“You want potato salad or coleslaw? And mild, medium, or hot sauce?”

“Mild. And I don’t need any salad or coleslaw.”

“You have to pay for it anyway so you might as well take it.”