White Heat Beast

by Steven Jennings

  She screamed, “Craig I have nothing to say to you, because you lied to me and abused me for years, and I’m not having you back!” He suddenly switched his whole attitude and became very calm. “Baby listen, I’m sorry for what I did. Let’s just start over, I have some new things that I’m into now, you know baby, legal things and I want to move you and the kids out of this damn ghetto! You guys deserve it.”

  He came closer to her and whispered, “I love you Linda! I love you with every breath in my tired body!” My mother started to cry uncontrollably. As he walked toward her, his arms opened up like a father welcoming home a long lost child. When he approached her I realized how much of a large man he was. He towered over her like a skulking building that you see in an old classic vampire film. His shadow covered her until the only thing you could see was the fear in the whites of her eyes. She had been in this place before, and she was afraid to return there. He welcomed her with a melancholy embrace, but his words were much more loving than his body language. She turned her head in disgust, as if his breath released a harsh and pungent odor. Craig appeared to have just come off a drinking binge. Sometimes alcoholic’s experience what is called, “a moment of sobriety.”

  That’s when they think clearly for one or two moments in their sorry ass life. I think he may have been experiencing one at this time. He turned away from her and clasped his hands together, rubbing them feverishly as if he was ready to embark on a long day’s work. “Okay Linda, I have a lot of things to unpack. I have my stuff outside. You boys get out there and get my shit!”

  My mother began to cry with a helpless expression on her face. She looked as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and the fear of death in her heart. She shook her head and walked back in her room, closing the door behind her. I suppose she wondered if she was making the wrong decision. I stood in the hallway wondering how long this arrangement would last before he went crazy again. The next morning I woke up to the smell of burning Maple bacon. I wondered if my mom was cooking for us or for Dad. As I peeked through the crack in my bedroom door, I was shocked to see my father in the kitchen by himself. He was cooking away, scrambling eggs and singing some old love song to himself. I walked out into the kitchen with a cautious soft step. He immediately focused on me as if he was waiting for me to wake up.

  In a real evil voice, he slowly turned around and looked at me and said, “Hey Shawndre, I hope ya hungry boy, cause we eatin good today!” Then he looked me over and rubbed his scruffy chin and said, “Hey you never speak to me son. I wonder about you a lot! So umm, how is school treatin ya?” I was shocked his words were nice, even though they still sounded mean. So I replied, “Oh it’s okay, I’m happy to be going to the second grade, Mrs. Amicker was mean!” He looked at me with a nonchalant smirk on his face, “Second grade? Damn son, you growin up pretty fast. You need a man around here to keep your little ass in line right about now.”

  I just looked at him and thought, “Where did that come from? He’s only been here one night and he’s figuring out who needs to have their ass whipped!” My mother and Barry were still in bed. That was normal for Barry, he was a teenager. But my mother was normally up and out the bed at the break of day. I started wondering if he beat her up last night.

  I looked over in the living room and saw a sheet on the couch and an old Chicago Bulls jacket balled up like a pillow. On the coffee table there were some empty potato chip bags, an astray overflowing with crushed up cigarettes and a half empty forty ounce of beer.

  Barry and his buddies were always drinking those same old 40 ounce Jugs of Kings Malt Liquor. My father caught me looking, “That’s my room over there. So do you like it?” He smiled as if he was inviting me to laugh. I said, “Dad you can sleep in my bed if you want.” “No, Uh Uh! I’m okay, but thanks anyway Shawn. Hey come here real quick.” I walked over to him slowly with my eyes bucked open so hard that my forehead folded up and created a crease.

  I wasn’t sure if I was in trouble for something or not? “Let me look at your face son, you are a handsome boy, do you know that? Do you know that I love you Shawn?” I felt tears welling up in my eyes as he said those things. I really didn’t know him, and I was scared. “Can I go to my room Daddy? I’m not feeling too good.” He glared at me with disgust, “Boy! Yeah Shawn go back to bed you little shit, just like everybody else in this house!” I ran to my room as fast as I could.

  I thought he was going to snatch me by the neck for a minute. I remember feeling my heart pounding through my chest and my ears, it was intense. My dad could get mad as easy as the wind could change direction. He hadn’t changed at all. It was all a front. I fell asleep again for about an hour. When I awoke again, I heard laughing and vibrant conversation radiating from the living room.

  Once again, I peeked through the crack in my door and saw Barry and my father having what appeared to be a grown up conversation. Barry was using curse words and my father was using them too. I walked out in the living room. This time my father did not acknowledge my presence. Barry looked over at me and cracked a sideways smile, “Hey Dad is a cool dude Shawn. You should get to know him better.”

  I asked, “Barry, where is Mommy at?” My father interrupted, “She had to take care of some business!” Then he focused his eyes on me and said, “While you’re up boy, you need to start cleaning that damn kitchen up!” I rushed to straighten up the kitchen as fast as I could. But it was nasty, with cigarette butts everywhere. I walked in the living room and stood with my hands down at my sides and my head bowed down as I asked Barry, “Can I go outside?” My father jumped off the couch and grabbed me by the back of my shirt snatching me at least 6 inches of the ground. “Boy you see me sitting right here and you gonna ask Barry can you go out? I’m your damn father boy!”

  He growled, “Are you trying to disrespect me boy?” I began crying uncontrollably. The tears rushed from my eyes with so much force that my vision instantly became blurred. My nose started running and my heart was beating so hard that I thought my chest was going to burst! I felt so afraid of this man.

  I never really knew him, and the few times I did see him he was cursing my mother out. Now I’m in the house with him, the house he was never welcomed in, and he is holding me by the back of my shirt like a puppet. You know, that’s exactly what I felt like, a puppet being pulled by its strings. As he released me, my body went limp. I couldn’t feel the sensation of my legs.

  I also didn’t feel the sensation of the corner of my head crashing against the coffee table. As I lay on the floor of the living room, I felt a warm fluid enveloping my face. It was as comforting as my mother’s hands when she caresses my face after church on Sunday morning. The comfort was taking me to sleep, slowly to sleep. In my enchanting slumber, I could barely see the silhouette of Barry trying to hold my head up, screaming and crying out, “Don’t go to sleep Shawn!” But I couldn’t resist the comfort of the warmth caressing my face.

  I wasn’t aware that the warmth on my face was coming from the blood seeping from my skull.

  And I guess at that moment I didn’t care! I felt no pain while sprawled out on that floor, so I fell sound asleep. However, when I woke up in the hospital I had a much different feeling.

  My head was pulsating like an African drummer in some ceremonial dance. I could hear the throbbing sensation playing out its drumbeat tune in my eardrums as I was resting in the hospital bed. The stitches on the side of my forehead were pulling the skin over my temple so tight that I was afraid to move my jaws; for fear that my facial muscles would rip the stitches loose.

  But with all of the strength I had in my young body, I looked over to the side of my bed, hoping to see my mother. But I didn’t see her, or my father. I only saw my brother, Barry. He told me that Dad stayed home and cleaned up the mess I made and that Dad and Mom were having a family meeting at the house, whatever that meant. Suddenly as he was speaking, a young Asian looking nurse appeared in my room smiling with her hands behind her back. She was slim and
short, and had long black hair, pulled up in a bun in the back.

  Her face was thin with light freckles, which was weird to me, because it just didn’t look natural. But most of all, I will never forget her eyes, they were very sinister. I couldn’t tell if she was good or evil, happy or sad. But her voice was slow and sweet, she seemed like she was trying to be nice.

  She asked Barry to step out for a moment. He reluctantly went away, saying he would be standing right outside the door. She walked over to the door as Barry left, and locked it behind him. She then turned around and said, “So you are the infamous little Shawndre Allen Brown. That sounds like a Black boy’s name.”

  Then she approached me and rubbed my face softly saying, “The Committee has been waiting for you; As a matter of fact, as soon as you arrived, I was beeped. It appears you haven’t been here lately. But no worries, because today I have something for you that will help you become healthy and strong, like we need you to be for the program.” I sat still, and quiet.

  I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, and she was kind of creepy to me. Then she showed me a silver case, the size of a small purse and looked around slowly, before asking me to lie on my side and close my eyes. I was so scared; I did exactly what she asked and turned my back to her. I heard the case pop open.

  Then I felt her quickly expose my rear end, and suddenly I heard the sound of a short burst of air from an air hose or something, and I felt a quick sharp pain in my ass cheek, then my whole butt went numb. I quickly realized she was giving me some kind of shot!

  But before I could scream, she covered my mouth and said, “Shhh! It’s almost done; you are a special little boy, and the future of our program.”

  Then the room started spinning and I immediately fell back asleep. When I awoke two hours later, I was in pain again. My head was throbbing, and I was wondering if that whole Nurse visit was a dream. In the midst of all the pain I was feeling, one thought protruded in my mind like my ugly and noticeable scar. I kept thinking about my father. I thought aloud by accident, “I hope Mom kicks his ass out!” To my surprise, Barry replied, “She might.” I wasn’t aware that Barry was back in the room. Then he said, “Damn that Chinese bitch had some nice legs. What did that Nurse give you; because that shit knocked you out! Shit I want some too!”

  I said, “I don’t know, but she said I’m special, does that mean I gotta be in that special education program at school?” He looked confused and hunched his shoulders. Then a female Doctor walked in, looking very upset and told Barry that I may have fractured my skull.

  She also wanted to know why my parents hadn’t shown up at the hospital yet.

  She seemed very confused about my whole situation. Initially I refused to say anything to her. But after the Doctor gave me some more pain medication; for some reason, I felt better about talking to her or anyone else who would listen. I told her a jumbled up and confusing barrage of stories, which were somewhat influenced by the medication’s effect.

  My thinking was somewhat cloudy. I told the old lady how my father, who doesn’t live with us, but now he actually does, had accidentally dropped me on the table. I remember the look of horror on that lady’s face. The next thing I know, she was telling the story to the nurses and a police officer.

  The police and the Doctor knew one another; they appeared to be on a first name bases. But when I asked about the Asian nurse, nobody knew who I was talking about. After a few hours, some more people who knew the Doctor came to get me and told me that I would be staying in a group home for a little while. I felt like I had gotten myself in some type of trouble, because the Social Workers came in my room and started asking me a bunch of questions.

  These same people broke up in two groups and were in a room questioning Barry about what happened too. I remember how hostile he got when they told him I couldn’t leave with him. It took three security guards to restrain him as I was rushed from the hospital to an emergency children’s shelter. I began to feel that limp and numb sensation that I felt when my father grabbed me. I didn’t even have the energy to cry at this point.

  I was taken to some old dilapidated building on the East side of The City. As soon as I was walked in the door, I saw a little gang of snotty nosed nasty little kids hanging out. They gave me the evil eye as I walked past them. I don’t know why they decided not to like me without even knowing me? There were some teenagers walking around the living room area of the home yelling curse words at the adults. This place seemed out of control! All of the kids in the shelter appeared to be aggressive and angry! I was taken to my room, by a short stocky built black man. He mumbled, “Put all your shit in the drawer and go to bed you little fucker!”

  So that’s what I did. This guy looked like he was pissed off at the world. I slept for about 12 hours or so that night. I swear when I went to sleep it was night time and when I woke up it was the end of the next day. A Social Worker from the hospital came to visit me. She said that I would be going home soon. I asked her why they took me from the hospital. Her only reply was, “We have to see if you are in an unsafe environment sweetheart.”

  She was a nice lady, kind of like my own mother was, when Dad wasn’t around. Sometimes I would just call my dad “Craig” in my mind. He wasn’t any type of father figure to me. For the rest of that day I hung out near my room with my head wrapped like the Mummy. Everything seemed to be moving so fast that I couldn’t keep up with the pace. I remember trying to avoid this gay acting kid who kept walking past my room and blowing me kisses. I didn’t know this kid’s name, but I saw him playing with his penis in the boy’s bathroom and every sense then he had been walking past my room staring at me like a pervert. If I didn’t have those stitches I probably would have socked him in his nose!

  I remember being so incredibly hungry, that my stomach was growling and whistling. My mother made sure we ate well every day. So I was not use to skipping three meals. She would work double and triple shifts to make sure Barry and I had some food in the house. It’s funny when a person realizes how good they had it growing up.

  The things they despise in life don’t seem to be so bad after all. But I really wanted things to be the way they were, before Dad came back. I felt like my father being around was the beginning of my new and horrible life. If things were this bad the first couple days, I couldn’t imagine the next couple years. I went back in my room and rested on the bed. I was wondering what story my father would tell my mother when she got home. He probably told her I fell, or I was playing with Barry or something and bumped my head. Whatever he told her, I’m sure he wouldn’t jeopardize his chance to stay in our house and eat all our food and live in an apartment for free.

  I was broken from my deep thought by a pretty little black girl. She was dark skinned with shining long hair like a Spanish kid. She spoke with a French accent and was very courteous as she invited me to dinner in the cafeteria area. “Sak Pase? Would you like to have dinner?” “Well sure I would like to come; I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!” She giggled and took off running down the hallway. I gave chase, and followed her to a large and metallic dining area. At the dinner table, they had burnt chicken patties, rice and green beans.

  It kind of looked like hot school lunch, and it smelled like it to. But I was hungry so I wasn’t complaining. I just wanted to put something in my stomach to stop the growling. I sat down next to a kid with a cast on his arm. He asked me, “So what did your parents do to you?” I said, “Well, my parents didn’t do anything; this guy who says he’s my dad dropped my ass on a table.” The kid looked at me in disbelief, “You mean he picked you up and did a WWF table slam on you?” I laughed, “No silly, he just pulled me up by my shirt and when he let me go I fell and hit my head on the table. So what happened to your arm?” I asked him.

  He looked at me shamefully, “My mother bent my arm behind my back and sat on it until it broke.” I looked at him in total shock, “well, well, why would she do that?” He replied, “Because she was mad that I
pissed on the toilet seat.” I turned away and put my head down in my plate. What kind of person would do that to their own child?

  I started having terrible thoughts of being punished by my father. I was imagining him getting mad at me and breaking my arm too. I started feeling sick to my stomach, plus the food was starting to really stink. So I asked the staff if I could be excused from the table.

  I thought about how much I missed my mother. I knew she would never do anything like that to me. I sat in my room and looked out the window thinking to myself. I wondered if this place, where I felt so very uncomfortable and alone, was going to be my new home. I wasn’t sure at this point, but I hoped not. The next morning a caseworker came to the Shelter and told me I was coming home. I had to shower and wash my clothes before leaving the facility. I was kind of worried about how my mom would react when she saw me.

  I wondered if she would be happy. Would she be relieved? Or would she feel like I caused all this trouble? As these questions raced through my mind I moved about in a mechanical manner. I felt like I was in a movie or something. I was oblivious to my surroundings and in my own world as the rest of my body was acting on its own. This was the first time I actually realized that I could be locked away in my thoughts without being asleep. When I finally broke out of my deep concentration, we had driven across town in the case workers car, and I was walking toward the front door of my mom’s house.

  I was praying that my dad wouldn’t answer the door! As the caseworker and I knocked on the door, I felt a surge of fear pulsate throughout my body.

  However, to my pleasure my mother opened the door and embraced me like she thought she would never see me again. I cried for the first time since my dad caused me to bust my head. My mother cried out, “Baby I didn’t know what happened to you until it was too late, you don’t have to worry baby; he’s not here anymore.”