Beloved
Jaikayo-Javon Brown
The sun rays focused themselves on my face as the sour smell of freshly cut grass filled my nostrils. It was punishment to do yard work. I did yard work a lot.
I always felt that my dad resented me. Fifteen years of resentment had tired me out. With resentment came fifteen years of yard work. He started sending me to do yard work as soon as I could walk. I was happy if he sent me to the yard because the other punishment was worse. The other punishment was a beating; not a normal beating but one that would leave the bulging lines on the body. There was no escaping his wrath. It was just us in our two-bedroom house. I’ve never known any of my other family members, maybe he resents them too.
After my daily yard work, I stormed into his musty room looking for answers. He was nowhere to be found; As I turned around, I caught a glimpse of a door I had never seen before. It was my first time in my dad’s room, usually he beat me in my room. As I came closer to the door it opened, as if it were controlled by my brain. To my surprise, my dad exited the door. He walked out of the secret domain backwards, locking it behind him.
“What’s that?” I asked sternly.
“Nothing boy! Go outside and mow the grass!” he shouted.
“But I already did.”
“Well do it again, and again, until I say stop!” As he said this, he grabbed the nearest object and heaved it at my head. Luckily, he missed because it was his steal toed boot he uses for work. I hurried out of the room before he killed me.
There was no way I was going mow the lawn again. On the other hand, my dad freaked me out. I had to muster the courage to ask why he hated me so much. I quickly turned around after taking a couple of steps out of the door. I stood tall and tried to speak. It was like eating a spoonful of peanut butter, my mouth was dry, and I couldn’t talk. The words would just not come out of my mouth; it became obvious that I looked weird trying to get the words out by the look on my dad’s face. I couldn’t stop. Finally, the words flung out, almost incomprehensible.
“Why do you hate me!” I yelled as a tear rolled down my cheek.
“I don’t hate you son.”
“What have I ever done to you?”
“I hate that your face looks like your mom’s.”
I was utterly speechless. I had never thought I looked like my dad; also, I never had anyone else to compare my face to. It answered all my questions at once, but also brought so many more up. Where is my mother, why I have I not met her family, why doesn’t anyone love me? Tears started to flood my face. I turn and ran. I planned on running away to find her. There was no need for me to be in a place that I wasn’t welcomed. I don’t remember having a mother. There was nothing but silence in the house that night. The next morning when I started packing my duffle bag, my dad entered.
“Boy, I’m sorry. I know that I’ve done wrong by you.” He said in a shaky tone.
“What did I do… where is mom?”
“She died giving birth to you. I hated having to see the cause of her death every day. It wasn’t your fault boy. It only took me fifteen years to realize it. If it’s okay with you boy, I would like another chance to be better.”
“I would love that, Dad.” I said as a storm of tears rans down my face.
We started getting weekly ice cream, and in the parlor is where we would discuss our problems. I only had to do yard week two times a week. This must be what its like to be a regulate kid, and I’m loving it. My dad also started letting me in his room. Although I could go into his room he never would let me near the secret door. I figured out a way into the room without him knowing. My father works until nine o clock, but I get to the house at seven. This gave me more than enough time to break into the room. Later that night I watched Crazy Franks Guide to Open Any Door, it was awesome. The next morning, after I got back to the house I got to work on the door cracking it in twenty six minutes. Faster than Frank could do. As I opened the door, the small room was only occupied by a box labeled “Beloved.” Inside the big box was everything that belonged to my mother. I reached into the box and grabbed a picture of a young women, twenty-six, kissing a young-looking version of my Dad. As I dug deeper, I found her I.D. Her name was Kathryn Moore, she was beautiful, and I looked just like her.
I must have lost track of time because I heard the familiar sound of the front door opening. I hurried to shove the armfuls of items I grabbed. It was too late as I closed the box and turned around my father, dusty from work, was staring intensely at me. I dropped my head ready to get beaten, but instead he did nothing.
“I meant to show this to you, but I wanted to wait till I knew you were ready.”
I sat quietly on the floor next to the box. My Dad joined me, but not before dumping the box to reveal everything inside. We sat for hours as he told me the story behind all the pictures, and how the young fellow as actually him. After that day, my father allowed me to come and go from the room as I wanted. He even let me keep a couple photos. Every night from then on my father would say, “Oh my beloved boy, you have the qualities of your mother with the heart of an angel.” I always fall fast asleep by those soothing words.
I always felt that my dad resented me. Fifteen years of resentment had tired me out. With resentment came fifteen years of yard work. He started sending me to do yard work as soon as I could walk. I was happy if he sent me to the yard because the other punishment was worse. The other punishment was a beating; not a normal beating but one that would leave the bulging lines on the body. There was no escaping his wrath. It was just us in our two-bedroom house. I’ve never known any of my other family members, maybe he resents them too.
After my daily yard work, I stormed into his musty room looking for answers. He was nowhere to be found; As I turned around, I caught a glimpse of a door I had never seen before. It was my first time in my dad’s room, usually he beat me in my room. As I came closer to the door it opened, as if it were controlled by my brain. To my surprise, my dad exited the door. He walked out of the secret domain backwards, locking it behind him.
“What’s that?” I asked sternly.
“Nothing boy! Go outside and mow the grass!” he shouted.
“But I already did.”
“Well do it again, and again, until I say stop!” As he said this, he grabbed the nearest object and heaved it at my head. Luckily, he missed because it was his steal toed boot he uses for work. I hurried out of the room before he killed me.
There was no way I was going mow the lawn again. On the other hand, my dad freaked me out. I had to muster the courage to ask why he hated me so much. I quickly turned around after taking a couple of steps out of the door. I stood tall and tried to speak. It was like eating a spoonful of peanut butter, my mouth was dry, and I couldn’t talk. The words would just not come out of my mouth; it became obvious that I looked weird trying to get the words out by the look on my dad’s face. I couldn’t stop. Finally, the words flung out, almost incomprehensible.
“Why do you hate me!” I yelled as a tear rolled down my cheek.
“I don’t hate you son.”
“What have I ever done to you?”
“I hate that your face looks like your mom’s.”
I was utterly speechless. I had never thought I looked like my dad; also, I never had anyone else to compare my face to. It answered all my questions at once, but also brought so many more up. Where is my mother, why I have I not met her family, why doesn’t anyone love me? Tears started to flood my face. I turn and ran. I planned on running away to find her. There was no need for me to be in a place that I wasn’t welcomed. I don’t remember having a mother. There was nothing but silence in the house that night. The next morning when I started packing my duffle bag, my dad entered.
“Boy, I’m sorry. I know that I’ve done wrong by you.” He said in a shaky tone.
“What did I do… where is mom?”
“She died giving birth to you. I hated having to see the cause of her death every day. It wasn’t your fault boy. It only took me fifteen years to realize it. If it’s okay with you boy, I would like another chance to be better.”
“I would love that, Dad.” I said as a storm of tears rans down my face.
We started getting weekly ice cream, and in the parlor is where we would discuss our problems. I only had to do yard week two times a week. This must be what its like to be a regulate kid, and I’m loving it. My dad also started letting me in his room. Although I could go into his room he never would let me near the secret door. I figured out a way into the room without him knowing. My father works until nine o clock, but I get to the house at seven. This gave me more than enough time to break into the room. Later that night I watched Crazy Franks Guide to Open Any Door, it was awesome. The next morning, after I got back to the house I got to work on the door cracking it in twenty six minutes. Faster than Frank could do. As I opened the door, the small room was only occupied by a box labeled “Beloved.” Inside the big box was everything that belonged to my mother. I reached into the box and grabbed a picture of a young women, twenty-six, kissing a young-looking version of my Dad. As I dug deeper, I found her I.D. Her name was Kathryn Moore, she was beautiful, and I looked just like her.
I must have lost track of time because I heard the familiar sound of the front door opening. I hurried to shove the armfuls of items I grabbed. It was too late as I closed the box and turned around my father, dusty from work, was staring intensely at me. I dropped my head ready to get beaten, but instead he did nothing.
“I meant to show this to you, but I wanted to wait till I knew you were ready.”
I sat quietly on the floor next to the box. My Dad joined me, but not before dumping the box to reveal everything inside. We sat for hours as he told me the story behind all the pictures, and how the young fellow as actually him. After that day, my father allowed me to come and go from the room as I wanted. He even let me keep a couple photos. Every night from then on my father would say, “Oh my beloved boy, you have the qualities of your mother with the heart of an angel.” I always fall fast asleep by those soothing words.
Jaikayo-Javon H. Brown enjoys long walks on the beach and mac &cheese. He loves warm cuddles and ice cream.
He lives with a single mom and one brother, and, currently, is class representative. Not only is he accomplishing in the classroom, but is also an outstanding athlete. Jaikayo's favorite sport is track and basketball. When he gets older he wants to either become an orthodontist or maxillofacial surgeon.
He lives with a single mom and one brother, and, currently, is class representative. Not only is he accomplishing in the classroom, but is also an outstanding athlete. Jaikayo's favorite sport is track and basketball. When he gets older he wants to either become an orthodontist or maxillofacial surgeon.