As I Am

by David B. Jai

  After Robbie and I finished with the tree, we had a cup of hot chocolate and went back outside to finish decorating the yard. We started to stream the fourth window with lights, but this time we were going to use all green lights.

  “Robbie and Darnell, come into the living room and tell your dad what you want for Christmas,” Mom shouted.

  Again, my brother and I were excited, jumping up and down and running around the front-yard like a wild dog chasing its tail. Mom and Dad were located in the dining room. Sitting in a big chair, Dad was smiling as if he was enjoying the moment. However, I could smell alcohol on his breath, and typically when he drank bad things happened. This time was different, though; it was Christmas and usually a time of peace and relaxation in the household all season long.

  “Robert, since you’re twelve years old and the oldest, you get to go first. Son, hop on your dad’s lap and tell him what you want for Christmas,” Mom said.

  Taking a deep breath, Robbie said, “Dad, I would love to have a new bike, a BB gun, and can I please have a dog? I promise to take care of it.”

  “Wow, a dog, we will have to see about that,” Dad said in his deep baritone voice. “Just be on your best behavior for the remainder of the year, and we will see what happens.”

  Robert gave Dad a kiss on his jaw and jumped out of his lap.

  Jumping up and down with excitement, it was finally my turn. I got a chance to jump in my dad’s lap and tell him what I wanted for Christmas. “My turn, my turn,” I yelled with excitement.

  “Darnell, get on your dads’ lap and tell him what you want for Christmas,” Mom said.

  I began smiling from ear to ear. This was my big chance to tell Dad what I wanted. I know Robbie probably has his apprehensions about asking Dad for girly items; however, it’s my gift, and I’m sure Dad won’t mind purchasing it for me. He’s my father; he probably already knows what I am going to ask for even before I ask it. I leaped into my dad’s lap and took a deep breath saying, “Dad, can I have a pair of high heels, some make-up and a poster of the Village People?”

  I looked at my dad’s face. He smiled and dropped his head. Suddenly, when he raised his head, I noticed his eyes were bloodshot red, his facial expression was strained, and I could see him clinching his fists.

  “Darnell, why do you want me to purchase high-heels and make-up? Are you going to give it to the little girl at church or something?” he asked trying to forge a smile.

  “No, Dad, I want them for myself. I can wear my high-heel shoes and put on make-up when I am bored and, in my room, since I don’t have any friends, I can talk to the Village People. They would love me.”

  Suddenly, without warning, Dad pushed me from his lap onto the floor, kicking and yelling at me. I couldn’t hear what he was saying because I was trying to protect myself, but I was wondering What did I do to get a whipping; Dad has never beat me like this, what did I do? I felt a blow to my stomach and then to my head. In the background, I could faintly hear my mom and Robbie screaming, but I couldn’t comprehend what they were saying. I wanted this to end but didn’t know how to stop it. I said to myself, Dad, please stop you’re hurting me, but couldn’t muster the strength to get the words out. I started feeling light-headed as if I was going to faint, but I could still feel the blows to my head and stomach. Then swiftly, it stopped.

  “Robert, stop! What are you doing?” Mom yelled.

  “That boy is a fucking faggot, and I’m not raising any fags in my household. Do you understand me?” he said, shouting forcefully.

  Dad picked me up from the floor by my collar. My face was bloody and my body bruised.

  “You better not ever disrespect me like that again, or I will kill you. Do you understand me?” Dad growled.

  “Yes, sir!” I said, tears running down my face.

  “Robert, let him go!” Mom screamed.

  “This fag has spoiled Christmas,” Dad shouted. ”There is no celebration this year, so don’t ask me for a motherfucking thing!”

  Dad released his hold on me, and I fell to the floor, gasping for breath like a rag doll being tossed like a pit-bull.

  “Candace, it’s your fault he’s a damn faggot. You always got that boy with you. I should beat your ass too,” Dad said, walking to the bedroom.

  Suddenly, Dad turned around and walked back into the living room. I thought he was coming for me again, so I froze in place. He walked by but slapped me on the back of my head. “Move faggot!” he said angrily. I got out of his way. He made a loud groaning noise, picked up the Christmas tree, which was still plugged in the wall along with all the trimmings, and threw it out of the front door onto the snow-covered lawn. I watched Dad come back into the house. I thought he was going to do something to me, but he walked to the bedroom, slamming the door shut. The nightmare was over for now.

  I continued to cry as mom gently wiped the blood from my face with her shirt.

  “Robert, go get a towel, wet it, and bring it to me?” Mom said with authority. She began to look over my body to see if I needed to go to the hospital but decided my wounds were not severe enough.

  “Oh my, Darnell, look at you? It’s going to be all right, you just have to watch what you say to your Dad. You know he has a short fuse right? Especially when he’s been drinking.”

  Wiping the tears from my face with the palms of my hand, I went to the bedroom to lie down. Robert walked into the bedroom with me but didn’t say a word. I think it was because he didn’t know what to say. He climbed into my bed, touching me on my shoulders. I glanced up at him, and a tear running down his face gently fell onto mine. Why is my brother crying? I observed him biting his bottom lip and shaking. I believe he was mad at me, too, because he warned me what would happen if Dad knew I was playing in Mom’s clothes and makeup. Now he was mad at me for spoiling Christmas and for being a faggot. I couldn’t verbalize his true feelings, as my pain was unbearable. I felt stupid because all I had to do was listen, and I chose not too.

  I learned a valuable lesson that day, that I need to hide my true feelings, regardless of how I feel or how free I want to be, because those people who are closest to you can and often do hurt you.

  Chapter Two

  Growing up on the west side of Louisville, Kentucky certainly had its challenges. Our neighborhood was composed of typical lower-middle-class families. There were a few white folk who lived in our community but were quickly moving out. Rumors soared that the main reason people were leaving the community was due to low-income black people moving in. However, Ms. Estelle, a ninety-two-year-old lady, said the neighborhood was getting “too dark.” Mom said she always spoke her mind, but most of her thoughts were irrational statements that didn’t make sense. Mom said Ms. Estelle had dementia and told my brother and I to not talk to her. Ms. Estelle may have been a little senile, but indeed spoke the truth. I saw fights, auto thefts and shootings were escalating, and our neighborhood was deteriorating fast.

  I resided in Bexley Court, which is about the size of two football fields and about nine houses lined perfectly on each side. Neighbors took great pride in manicuring their lawns, and it seems like or neighbors, the Virginia’s and Buttons, were always trying to get the best-manicured yard. Our lawn was beautiful, with a rose bush, several mums, and twelve-foot evergreen trees and of course, a huge backyard. My Aunt Norma lived just down the street with her six sons.

  Aunt Norma was a heavyset brown skin lady who consistently wore the Hawaiian-styled muumuu dresses; the big dress that came down to the ankles. It looked like a glorified house gown. One day I overheard Aunt Norma and Mom talking, and Aunt Norma revealed to Mom that she does not wear a bra or panties; she just lets it all hang out. I could picture how that would look, and it made me frown like tasting a tart glass of cherry Kool-Aid. Then I heard Mom tell Aunt Norma about dad bringing home strangers just to have sex. Mom said she didn’t like it, but Aunt Norma said she should do as
her husband pleases. Nonetheless, I loved Aunt Norma, and at times she was like a second mother to me.

  One evening, I decided to visit my aunt. I would not have to call her to tell her that I was coming, but just go down for a visit and maybe have lunch with her. As I walked out the door, I informed Mom where I was going, and she approved.

  I saw Aunt Norma from afar standing in the yard, pruning her ­lilies. She wore an oversized T-shirt and a pair of tight shorts that came slightly above her knees. Aunt Norma was bent over, and her shorts rose-up in the back, exposing her massive inner thighs as well as millions upon millions of cellulite cells that reminded me of the moon with thousands of craters on its surface. Her appearance didn’t impact my decision to visit her, and in spite of how she looked, I loved her more than anything. At times, I believe Aunt Norma knew my secret, as she was always saying, “God made you perfect, Darnell, and I love you just the way you are!” Having talks with Aunt Norma made me smile. I felt like I could tell her anything, and she would always have my back.

  “Hi, Aunt Norma,” I said, walking up to her.

  “How’s my favorite nephew doing?” she said, smiling.

  “I’m doing good, I just came down for a visit and maybe have lunch with you,” I said with a flare in my eye, as I was extremely happy to be in her presence.

  “You’re just in time! I’ve got some beans and cornbread on the stove and it should be ready. Let’s go try some,” Aunt Norma said, inviting me into the house.

  As I walked in, I noticed a massive couch with plastic wrap on it. If I did not know better, I would say it was new, straight from the manufacturer. We made a right turn entering into the kitchen.

  “Darnell, have a seat at the table. I’m going to make you a plate.”

  I sat down while Aunt Norma went to the gas-powered stove. There was a big soup pot filled with brown beans. She opened the oven and pulled out an iron skillet full of cornbread.

  “The cornbread is sweet, just like you like it,” Aunt Norma said, gazing up at me.

  My eyes got big, and suddenly my stomach started to growl with anticipation of eating beans and cornbread. Aunt Norma prepared our plates, and then she sat down to eat.

  During lunch, we began to talk about superficial things like the weather and TV shows. Aunt Norma asked what did I want to be when I get older, and I informed her that my dream and aspirations were to become a firefighter. I would like to save people from burning buildings. Aunt Norma believed the idea was quite noble; however, it could be somewhat restricted because there are not many black firefighters in Louisville. After we finished eating, I noticed Aunt Norma’s conversation started to become non-existent, then suddenly, she yawned. This was my hidden cue to leave as she’s going to lay down.

  “Well, Darnell, I’m getting ready to lay down and take a nap, your Aunt Norma is getting old. You can let yourself out,” she said as she wobbled to the bedroom.

  I got up from the table and walked around the corner back to the living room. I decided to be risky and have a seat on the big couch with the plastic on it. When I sat down, I could hear the plastic making a crunch sound. It was so loud, I thought Aunt Norma would hear me. I was going to take a nap too. However, the plastic was sticking to my skin, and in just a few moments, I began to sweat. It was time for me to go home and get in my own bed for a nap. As I got up, the couch made even more noise. I knew for sure Aunt Norma would hear me.

  “Darnell, is that you?” a deep male voice questioned from a room upstairs.

  The voice startled me because I was supposed to have gone home, and it was a voice that I did not recognize.

  “Come up here and see me,” the voice said in a whisper from upstairs.

  Being inquisitive, I climbed thirteen stairs to the top floor. There I saw a well-fit, muscular guy, standing about six feet two inches tall, with a low haircut, caramel complexion, lifting weights in his tank top and boxers. I hastily covered my eyes as I thought he was changing clothes.

  “Darnell, wow, you’ve got big! Do you remember me?” said the man.

  I thought about it for a second. “No, who are you?” I asked while uncovering my eyes.

  “I am your cousin Cedric. Aunt Norma’s oldest son?”

  I stood confused for a little while.

  “No, you’re not because Aunt Norma’s oldest son is in prison.”

  Cedric put down the weights and started laughing. “So, you know I’ve been to jail?”

  “Yeah, we use to talk about it. Aunt Norma said she was mad at you for going to prison.”

  “Well, I am Cedric, and I just got home from jail two days ago.”

  “Oh, ok! Hi Cedric, I’m Darnell!” I said with enthusiasm, stretching forth my hand to shake his.

  Unexpectedly, Cedric grabbed my hand and moved it toward his crotch. Before I could realize what he was doing, my hand was touching his penis through his boxers. I didn’t think to move my hand because I wanted to investigate what I was feeling more closely. My curiosity had gotten the best of me as I felt stunned and mesmerized.

  “What is that?” I asked with curiosity.

  “It’s nothing, but let’s play a game,” Cedric said.

  “What type of game?” I asked with my hand still holding his crotch tightly.

  Cedric led me to his bedroom, where there were posters of white women on the wall wearing bikinis and one completely nude. Cedric proceeded to sit on the edge of his bed. I started to become apprehensive because the moment wasn’t feeling right.

  “I better go,” I said, breaking away.

  “Go where? You just got here, plus I want to play a game. You just can’t tell anyone.”

  “OK, we can play a game.”

  Quickly, Cedric stood up, took off his tank top, revealing his massive pecks, biceps and abs. Then he took his boxer underwear and pulled them down to his knees, exposing his rock hard penis. Smiling, as if he’d won a prize. He hastily sat back down on the bed and told me to come closer.

  “Touch it, Darnell,” Cedric asked in a calm whisper.

  Deep down inside, a part of me wanted to touch Cedric’s penis, mainly because I had never seen one in person, plus he was extra-large, and I wanted to see what it felt like. I reached over my hand and grabbed it. It felt like a bumpy, hard tree branch, except it was warm, and the more I touched it, the bigger it got. His scrotum hung like nuts on a bull.

  “Darnell, go up and down on it?” Cedric asked.

  I didn’t know what he was talking about, so he took my hand, affixed it to his penis, and started making it go up and down.

  “Yeah, just like that,” Cedric moaned.

  After about three minutes, my hands were getting tired.

  “Let’s play another game,” I said.

  Cedric grabbed me, bringing me within inches from his lips.

  “Pull down your pants, Darnell,” Cedric said.

  He began unbuttoning my pants and exposing my underwear and then my flesh. My thoughts became confused.

  “Damn, Darnell, you got a fat ass,” Cedric said, as he pulled me closer to him, grabbing my butt cheeks. “Can I have some?”

  “I think so,” I responded, as I didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “Relax, this is what we do in jail,” Cedric said as he turned me around with my butt facing him and my face toward the wall. “Bend over for a second, Darnell?”

  There was a slight pause, then I slightly bent over looking at the wall, thinking about this game and feeling scared. I begin to feel the warmth of Cedric’s penis touch my anus. Although the feeling was very different, somehow it felt good, and I liked the way his penis felt against my butthole.

  I saw Cedric reaching for a bottle of lotion and putting it on his penis. I wondered what he was doing that for. But actually, I wanted him to put his warm penis back on my hole again.

  “Now, Darnell
, this is going to hurt a little bit!” Cedric said. “Take a deep breath.”

  I took in a deep breath, and he began to gently insert his large penis into my little hole. The pain became unbearable, as if my entire body was hurting.

  “Ouch!” I yelled and pulled away.

  “Relax!” Cedric said as he was trying to comfort me. “I’m almost there.”

  Although the pain was unbearable, I wanted him to keep going because I didn’t want him to think that I was a sissy or punk.

  Cedric put more of his penis in me, and I yelled, “Stop, it’s hurting too bad!”

  Cedric covered my mouth and began to thrust even more of his penis inside me. I tried to tell him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. I started crying, as he was trying to get his pleasure. His hand managed to slip away from my mouth as I hollered, “Auntie!”

  Downstairs we could hear Aunt Norma moving around. Coming to the edge of the stairs, she asked, “Darnell, are you up there?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, shaking.

  “Come down here where I am, I thought you went home. Are you up there alone?”

  Cedric shook his head from left and right, signifying that no one was up here with me.

  “No, ma’am,” I said.

  “Come down here to where I am. You don’t have any business being up there in the boys’ room.”

  I broke free from Cedric’s arms, pulled up my pants, and started downstairs. Cedric, realizing that his sexual fantasy was over, turned to me, saying, “You better not tell anyone else, or I’m going to kill you.”

  “Yes sir,” I said, trembling and frightened.

  I left, heading back down the stairs. Aunt Norma greeted me at the bottom stair, asking if I was OK, as if she knew that something was not quite right.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied feeling defeated and with my head tilted down toward the floor.

  “Well, it’s time for you to go home because Aunt Norma is going to take a nap.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, making my way to the front door.