The Three Books: The Fall

“A man gotta have a code.”

-Omar Little (a character on HBO’s iconic series The Wire)

Note: Some of the names and identities have been changed to protect innocent, guilty, and neutral.

The Sabbatical

The first batch of us who completed their mock proposals were waiting with anticipation and excitement. We were being told who our dissertation chairs were going to be. One by one, the four [or five] of us who completed their mock proposals received their news with subdued excitement and a dash of nervousness. I was last. I am often nonchalant, typical of many of us Cali Dudes. “It’s just, like, whatever bro. It’s whatever,” would likely be the motto of any city I incorporate.

“Chris, your chair is Dr. Thompson,” my professor somewhat whispers to me. This seems normal. Except for the fact that Dr. Thompson was on sabbatical. The very next day, some of the others who did their mock proposal met with their chairs. Meanwhile, I did not meet with my chair until three months later. Of no fault of my own, I am already three months behind schedule when I planned to finish as soon as possible to join my then girlfriend, Linda, in Texas.

Dr. Thompson being assigned as my chair set off a chain reaction that ultimately help doom my brief time in Texas (more on that soon). I was subsequently late getting my research site approved. Furthermore, the research site cancelled their meeting in which my study was supposed to be reviewed and they failed to tell me. I was finally approved in December 2018, when students were no longer on-campus to participate in my study. So, I lost seven months before I actually collected data. And by time I got all the data I could get, it was not nearly enough.

The Colony

During the early long-distance phase of our relationship, I traveled to Texas a couple times a year while she lived in Carrollton, Texas. I remember seeing a water tower with the name “The Colony.” I thought, “that’s an interesting name for a section of a city.” Well, my assumption failed me because The Colony, Texas, an actual city, and would be my home a couple years later.

But before we get back to The Colony, it is July 2018, and I am finished with the class portion of my program (and for those of you keeping score, four months after my mock proposal). Before working on my study again, I could see my future through the eye of the storm. It had been five years, and it was about time I slide a ring on her finger. For reconnaissance, I recruited my homegirl Catherine (her government) and Linda’s B.F.F. Tasha. I received feedback from the eyes of women. They were the only two people in the entire world who knew what I was up to.

I had the engagement ring designed from scratch, which was probably about a month-long process. I purchased the ring in October 2018, and had to sit on this secret for another two months until I proposed on Christmas. But then December 8, 2018 happened.

I am running errands on a typical Saturday in Long Beach, CA when I get successive phone calls from family. I often ignored calls while driving, but I had to answer with so many calls coming back-to-back. It was my aunt.

“Hey auntie! What’s up.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just out and about, running errands.”

“Well, Cheryl died last night.”

…

I shrieked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

My aunt composed herself to reiterate her words after I calmed down. “She died last night…”

I immediately pulled over and sobbed for about 15 minutes before I could see straight and compose myself to safely drive home. When I arrived at Cheryl’s house, there was obvious grief accompanied by a peculiar buzz. Unbeknownst to me, Cheryl wanted me to be directly involved in taking care of her legacy. But the family knew. The people who raised me now look at me as a contemporary. As a leader. “What a mixture of emotions,” is how I described it later to my therapist.

Oh yeah, I was going to propose a week after Cheryl’s funeral and begin planning to move to Texas, leaving my grieving family, my friend, my networks, and my job all behind. Never mind my dissertation struggles. The proposal came and went and in July 2019, I was now a Texas resident. The Colony, Texas, that is.

The “Wait, What?”

I reconnected with someone recently. While catching up, I told them why I moved to Texas. I explained how I am a very logical, cogent person. However, I also added that there was no way I could logic my way through deciding to give up my stable California life that I worked very hard to attain after countless times falling on my face. I had to take a leap of faith. We analytical types often loathe faith probably because we have to let go of the steering wheel. But there I was. In Texas jobless for the first time since the age of 19. A virtually empty social and professional network. Working with my cousin to ensure Cheryl’s estate and two daughters are taken care of. Working on my dissertation and having to find a way to complete while being two time zones away. I would add planning a wedding, but sadly it was stereotypical planning: [the man] really had no say and whatever he chose for himself was deemed unsatisfactory under the guise of “I mean, if that’s what you want.” (Mini rant: This woman was under the impression what I would wear suspenders and Chuck’s because that was so “Cali.” This is what the rest of the nation thinks of all us Californians, y’all. Granted, some are like that, but The Homies ain’t rocking Chuck’s at our Chaining Day.)

I have unshakable perseverance. I just kept at it. I lost 35 pounds. I found a job, albeit seven months later, I found a new data source and was coasting through the final two chapters of my dissertation, and the wedding planning was heating up. Then The Panoramic. The Panny. The Panda Express. The Pan-Hellenic.

But no! Perseverance! I successfully defended my dissertation. Despite the odds. But only four days later, 10 days after our original wedding date, Linda no longer wants kids. Just like that, after all that effort, stress, and sacrifice, dead. Seven years in the making. The planning. The pressure placed on me out of concern I would shirk our plan and stay in California. After years of persuasion that Texas would be better for us. For our future family. After the ring. After leaving my job, networks, family, and taking a huge pay cut. All for nothing without as much as a thank you or apology. Oops.

To be continued…