Never Shed A Tear

Prologue Waking up in a 2-bedroom row house to nothing but screams of mercy and help, I assumed I was having another nightmare. But from the continuation of my mother’s pleading voice, I came to grips with the fact that it was more so reality. I quickly climbed from under my Transformers blanket and rushed to see where all of the commotion was coming from; only to see my father beating on my mother as if she was a bum on the streets that stole from him. I ran over towards them and jumped on my father’s back in an attempt to help my mother, but as always it was useless. Again, I was slung from one side of the living room to the other. When I landed, I just sat there on the floor and stared at my father furiously. Seconds later, he must’ve realized my emotions were cold when we made eye contact because that’s when he finished up his brutal boxing match with my mother. Instantly, I ran over and jumped into her arms. I was filled with hatred towards my father, as if it was me who had received every blow my mother felt from his oversized fist. My father, born Veto Lee Styles, stood six feet, four inches tall and weighed every bit of two hundred and ninety pounds of fat and muscle. He had a razor cut from his left ear to the right ear that connected under his chin. In the hood, that’s what we considered a buck fifty. Wearing wheat-colored construction boots, blue jeans, with no shirt on, sweating, pacing back and forth, Veto broke his silence, “what the fuck are y’all looking at?” My mother just sniffled and stared in silence. She was teary eyed and emotionally disturbed. I looked up at her seriously wondering what she was thinking. And how much more of this physical punishment can her slim, one hundred and thirty-five pound frame take. She gazed down directly into my eyes as if to say, “not much longer son….not much longer…” Chapter One – “I’m Having Nightmares” “Daddy stop, you killing her, you killing her,” I shouted. My mother was on the floor with two bear size claws around her windpipe. I watched in awe as my mother slowly faded away from life, and for that one second, I wished for God to grant me the strength to knock him from over top of her helpless figure. Instead, all I could do was yell to the top of my lungs, “mommmm”. Growing weaker and breathless, she just faded, unconsciously as her body went limp. “Mommmm!” I yelled once again. The sound of my voice must’ve had power because it reached her in demand of a response. Her eyes popped open and were bloodshot red like a blood clog. She looked me in my eye briefly then again her twenty-three year old frame went completely limp and her body fell flat out. Cursing, raging, and shouting in deep belief that was the end of my mother’s precious life, my father picked me up off of my mother’s body to calm me down. At the same time this crazy motherfucker was actually laughing like the incident which just occurred was extremely hilarious and entertaining. So my only reaction to his reaction was to react in more of a painful rage. “Get the fuck off me!” I cursed at my father. He just laughed more and picked me up off of my feet while collaring me up by my t-shirt. “Taheed, calm your ass down and shut the fuck up,” he demanded. But it was useless. “No, you killed my mom. Let me go!” I squirmed in attempts to break free of his handle. “Boy shut up, calm your little ass down…she gone be alright,” Veto barked. I wasn’t trying to hear that shit though. So I kept kicking and trying to pull his hands from my shirt. He just stared at me then dropped me. I ran over to my mom and tried to wake her up, but she wouldn’t come to. Veto stood in the doorway smoking a joint still smiling while chasing his every drag of the spliff with a shot of some knotty head rum. “Come on son, you going next door to Channelle’s house for a little while until your mom wake up. Me and her need to talk.” I stubbornly shook my head in disagreement not wanting to comply, but that only made Veto roughly grab my seven year old frame away from my mother’s body. He literally had to carry me out of the house and over to our neighbor’s house. I resisted by biting, kicking, and shouting every step of the way. Unfortunately, none of it worked. He dropped me off like it was nothing. Ms. Channelle took me to a family cookout that day. It was a lot of kids there my age, so eventually I loosened up and began to mingle amongst the people. It wasn’t until nightfall when Ms. Channelle decided to take me home. For the entire time I was with her, never did I once mention the fight my parents had. “Here, give this bag to your mother and tell her and your father that I said you’re welcome anytime, alright?” she spoke as I exited her car. “O.k. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye Ms. Channelle,” I shouted joyously, happy to be returning home. Greeted by a smiling mother in the front doorway, I quickly lit up like a 150-watt light bulb in a dark, secluded area then jumped in my mother’s arms. I was happy like never before as I observed my mother’s smiling face in front of me, after what took place earlier today. “Did you have fun with Ms. Channelle?” my mother asked while reaching for the plastic bag in my hand. “What’s that Boop? Ooh she gave you some clothes.” “Yeah mom, can I try them on?” I asked. “Yeah go ahead,” she insisted. Out of curiosity, due to the quietness in our home, I asked my mother, “where dad at?” Sitting back on the couch in a relaxed and stress-free zone, my mom just hunched her shoulders slightly as if to say “don’t know, don’t care”. Acceptable answer I thought. “I hope he never come back,” I mumbled. “Me too,” my mother replied. “Can I wear this one tomorrow mom?” “If that’s what you wanna wear,” she responded. I playfully walked through the living room as if I was on a male runway, modeling new school clothes for juniors. I’m laughing while homeboy strutting, making my mother smile happily as she enjoyed the moment. Then suddenly a car door slammed. We paused for a minute and just that quick the happy mood changed. Moments later, the front door of our freshly rented row house swung open, only for us to see who else walk through the doorway, Veto. He carried a Chiquita fruit box in with him. He was a union worker at the Port of Wilmington, earning every bit of seventeen to twenty-seven dollars an hour, five to seven days a week. “Here, take this box in the kitchen,” he demanded after dropping the box in front of me. Smiling at my mother, Veto walked over to kiss her then he took a seat next to her. Some big Italian guy was with him also. He took a seat on the recliner then opened a can of beer he pulled out of the brown paper bag that he carried on him. “How you feel baby?” Veto asked my mother. “I’m alright. How was work?” she responded while acting concerned just to ease the tension she felt wanting to rise. Veto’s days must’ve been hard at work because when he came home from work his attitude was normally in the mode of a ticking time bomb. He just couldn’t wait to find something to fuss about. “Dad I went to a cookout today with Ms. Channelle, and she gave me some new school clothes,” I spoke as if he cared. “Oh yeah,” he spit back looking like he hated me. I felt the vibe so I grabbed my outfits then headed up to my bedroom. “Are you ready for your bath?” my mother asked after sneaking up behind me. She tickled me then fell with me on the bed, the whole time laughing and expressing her motherly love. “Yes mommmeeeee, yes,” I blurted loudly, smothered in laughter. As she went to go run my bath water, I drifted off into a daze while sitting on the foot of my bed. Staring around the tiny, wood paneled back room, I wondered deeply and wished for a home sweet home…. * * * * “Bitch what the fuck did I tell you?”