For the Love of Peter Jones

by Adaeze Okoli

  Trinity does it again, surprises me. That was nowhere near the reaction I was expecting her to have when she saw my house. She sincerely seemed to adore my place.

  “You know, your street isn’t bad Peter, all the houses look different, but yours by far is the best on the street.”

  I smiled hearing her compliment, my mom would have loved to hear those words. It would have made all the effort my mom put into this house worth it. Ha, but if only Trinity could see the inside of my house, with the beat-up looking couch my dad has made his drunken bed. She most certainly wouldn’t think my home was so cute then.

  I pulled myself out of my thoughts and began to get out of her car. Trinity rolled down her window.

  “Remember I’m only a call or text away, it’s never too late for you to try and contact me.”

  I enjoy listening to every word she says. My mind processes each of her words as if they were crafted for only me. Her voice is so soothing. Before she began to drive off, I gave her my number.

  “You’re locked in my phone now,” she giggled.

  “And you’re locked in my, well, I guess the paper you gave your number on.” Trinity laughed at my awkward statement.

  “You goof, that doesn’t even make sense,” she said.

  “But I like it,” Trinity continued to laugh.

  I joined in on her laughter. Finally, she started up her truck again, waved goodbye, and like that she was gone.

  I stood outside for a while before heading in my house. I couldn’t help but reflect on my day. The events that took place were unexpected and mind-blowing, at least to me they were. My day started off as a horrible nightmare due to my mom no longer being here, thoughts of my dad, and of course Josh. But in the end, my day turned into being a peaceful day. Peaceful days don’t come around in my world often. So when they happen, I cherish them. This is all thanks to Trinity King. She has no idea how much she helped me today. This day should have been awful.

  Today should have been the second worst day of my life. My mom passed yesterday, my dad hit me yesterday, which lead to worse torment from Josh than usual today. Trinity stopped Josh from inflicting more injuries on me, she protected me. Then instead of her letting me go home, she let me come over to her place. Her parents invited me in, no questions asked. I don’t know how I became so lucky. I wish my mom were here for this. I’ve made a friend and by the looks of it, a great one.

  I can’t believe this, my day was okay. I can even say I’m feeling a little joyous. Yet, at the same time, a wave of guilt overcame me for feeling happy. I’m not supposed to feel joyful, mom only passed away yesterday. Guilt is starting to eat away at me. Am I a bad person for feeling this way? Isn’t it wrong to be happy when the person who loved you the most is no longer on this earth? My mom will never get the chance to feel the happy feelings I had moments ago. As I pondered these thoughts that began to consume me, I heard my mom’s voice.

  “No baby, you’re a great person. You deserve to feel good emotions. To be happy. Don’t worry, I’m sharing the same joy as you are currently. I’m proud of you Peter.”

  I smiled at the thought of my mom’s relaxing words. I closed my eyes, hoping I would hear more of my mother’s sweet words. I opened my eyes when I realized I wasn’t going to hear them again. Mom’s words sounded so real to me, I looked around to see if she was standing next to me. My heart sunk when I realized she wasn’t anywhere near me. I started working my way up to my house front door. I put my hand on the doorknob to unlock it, but my phone buzzed. It was a text from someone.

  The text read: “Hi Peter, it’s me Trinity; I couldn’t wait to text you. I had fun today! Thanks again, see you at school on Monday.”

  Those simple words had the power to put the smile I was beginning to lose back on my face. Trinity always seems to be right on time when I need her. It’s as if she can sense when I’m feeling down or anxious. Which I was very anxious because the lights were on in the house. Meaning my father was back home. Open the door Peter, and walk past him, I thought to myself. I took a deep breath, and opened the door. As soon as I opened my front door, my smile faded, and everything came crashing down.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Immediately I dropped my backpack on the floor. I stood in the entrance of my house, looking at my dad. I was so hurt that I couldn’t move. I was so hurt I couldn’t say anything. I was hurt to the point that I couldn’t even cry. The longer I looked at my father, who looked like a deer caught in headlights, the angrier I became. All I could see were flashes of red flooding my vision. Without thinking, I ran into the kitchen. There were pots and pans everywhere, from the lack of cleaning. I searched through the dirty dishes and picked up the biggest knife I could find. My heart was pounding at an alarming rate. I walked back into the living room where my naked father and a random half undressed lady lay. The female was shaking her head frenziedly, while sitting on our little beat-up couch crying.

  “I’m so, so sorry; please don’t hurt us, please.”

  The woman’s face was deep red, her mascara had left streaks on her cheeks from crying. She looked a complete and utter mess. I was enraged by her words. Stepping closer to the lady I pressed the knife to her neck.

  “Us, who the hell is us?”

  The woman looked over at my father as if she was asking him to help her. Her eyes were big and desperate, searching for a way out of this situation. The woman’s lip quivered.

  When dad didn’t say anything, she tried to speak again, but I cut her off. I pushed the knife closer to her neck, I was close to breaking the skin the blade was pushing on. It would be so easy for me to slice her throat right now; the woman is so vulnerable.

  “Peter, listen…” I cut my father off too.

  “Shut the hell up! Both of you shut up!”

  I know I must have looked crazy because for the first time my father looked afraid. I felt powerful knowing that I had put as much fear in him, that he had caused me to feel. My dad’s small brown eye showed fear, and in a sick way, I loved it. I burst into hysterical laughter. I watched him look from me, and then to the only thing that stood in the way of him getting to me. The knife.

  I looked into the lady’s eyes. I bent down to her level and got close to her face, all while still holding the knife.

  “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?”

  The woman started to cry more and choked out, “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know anything. Please don’t hurt him or me, please,” the woman begged.

  She sounded as if she was gasping for air. At this point, I was sweating, and still laughing in between speaking.

  “Ha, you’re real bold dad,” I shouted out towards my father while keeping eye contact with the woman.

  “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Well, let me inform you a bit,” I growled at her.

  “I lost my mother yesterday, which in case you’re too slow to figure out, was his wife. The pig you’re sleeping with, on the couch, my mom worked hard to buy punched me in the face yesterday.”

  I turned my cheek to her, so she was forced to see the bruise.

  “Looks nice huh, well that’s not all though! Then today I got punched again by a piece of shit bully at my school. But despite all of that, by the grace of God managed to have a pretty decent day. Now I come home to see this! I’m forced to see my father having sex with some whore.”

  “So how does it feel, to be a slut sleeping with a man whose wife passed away yesterday? I mean you must feel pretty great?”

  The lady didn’t say anything, she continued to lay on the couch crying. My dad started to talk. I moved the knife from her neck and twirled the sharp object around and about before I held it in front of my dad’s face.

  “Peter, this is Jessica,” my father cleared his throat.

  “We’ve been dating for the past four months, and we’re getting married soon.”

  Jessica was about 5’7, somewhat overweight with blonde hair. She looked nothing like mom, this woman named Jessica could never compare.
She was basic, no wow factor like my mom had. Mom caught the attention of men and women. Every time we went out somewhere, she’d receive stares. I’m sure a lot of those stares were from people trying to figure out how I could be her child. I was in shock and trying to process my father’s words. How could you date someone while your wife of eighteen years lay dying in a hospital? What type of sick mid-life crisis must you be having? What kind of sick individual could even think to do something as horrible as this? I couldn’t fathom the mere thought. The more I continued to think, the angrier I got. I became enraged.

  All those times dad never went to see my mom, he was more then likely with Jessica. No, there’s no need for me to second guess myself. That’s exactly where my father was, with Jessica. Mom used to ask for my father every time she’d have a long stay in the hospital. She’d wonder where he was. And every time I was the one who would have to break her heart and say, “He’s not coming,” or, “I don’t know.” But there became a time when mom stopped asking for dad. I remember that day distinctly. It was their anniversary. Celebrating eighteen years together. My mom asked her nurses to help make up her face. The hospital staff loved my mom, so without hesitation, they dolled my mom up, her charge nurse Bethany even offered to paint her nails. I had arrived at the hospital from leaving school when they were finishing her up. Mom looked gorgeous, she reminded me of the woman who I knew before she became sick.

  “What do you think?” Bethany asked.

  My mom looked from me to Bethany, and back over at me. She was so excited.

  “You look stunning mom.”

  Her eyes welled up with tears, “Thank you, Peter.”

  My mom was beaming, she couldn’t help but smile. I sent dad a text earlier that morning before heading to school. I reminded him that today was their anniversary, and to meet us at the hospital around 5pm.

  Dad shot me a text back that read: “I know, I’ll be there.”

  Although he didn’t want me at the hospital, today was an exception.

  “Is he coming , did he say he’d show up for sure?”

  My mother was beaming at me, I showed her his text, and she almost squeezed my hand off reading his words. She looked at Bethany and the other two nurses who helped with her makeup.

  “My husband should be on his way now, he’s coming today.”

  The nurses squealed with joy and conversed with my mom.

  “You’re going to take his breath away sugar, I know it,” Bethany said.

  The other nurses shook their head in agreement. The time was 4:50pm, ten minutes before dad arrived. The nurses stepped out of the small hospital room. You could see nervousness written all over my mom’s face.

  “Honey, can you reach in my purse, and spray me with some of my perfume? I almost forgot.”

  I smiled at my mom, she seemed like a young teenage girl, getting ready for her first prom all over again.

  “Of course, I can mom.”

  I did as I was asked. Finally, the time was 5:00pm. My mom looked over at me with excitement in her eyes. Then the time rolled over to 5:10pm, and then 5:20pm. The disappointment on my mom’s face was apparent. But then, the door handle started to jiggle a bit. My mom’s eye started to light up with hope. The door opened.

  “Happy Anniversary!” the nurses exclaimed.

  They entered the room with a small cake that said: “Happy 18th Anniversary.” I saw confusion written on their faces, as their eyes bounced around searching for my father.

  “He’s not here yet,” my mom said with disappointment.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll be here,” one of the nurses chimed in.

  “We pitched in money, and bought you a cake,” Bethany added.

  The cake was gorgeous, they must have spent time talking to mom. The cake had her favorite flowers decorated on the sides. The cake took my mom’s breath away, she was speechless.

  “You girls did all of this for me? Thank you so much, you ladies have done so much.”

  They smiled at my mom, but by their facial expression, you could see the anger in their eyes. I knew they were angry at my father. The nurses stepped out of the room for a bit. I could hear Bethany’s voice faintly. It was low and sounded like it was coming from down the hall, but I could still hear her. Bethany was livid.

  “How could he do something like that to her! How dare he, of all days? He can’t keep disappointing her like this.”

  I stopped listening in on Bethany’s conversation, I pulled in my focus on mom. She lost the happiness she had earlier. I scooted my hospital chair over to her and laid my head on her lap. She ran her fingers through my hair for a while in complete silence. Her voice was shaky and sounded broken.

  I knew she was trying not to cry when she asked, “He’s not coming…is he?”

  The way she said the words, you knew she wasn’t asking a question. Mom was only stating something she already knew.

  “You look beautiful mom, and I’m sure he got caught up in work. Perhaps he’ll be here tomorrow.”

  I knew dad wouldn’t come tomorrow, I had nothing else to say. She wasn’t the only one heartbroken, I was too. By 7pm, the nurses who helped my mom get ready and who bought the cake shift was over. They entered the room where my mom and I were.

  “Hi, Miss. Jones, do you mind if we hang with you for a while? We could eat that delicious cake, and watch some T.V.?” My mom smiled at the nurses. Shortly after she began to cry.

  “Yes. That would be great girls.”

  The nurses all brought chairs in, and plates for the cake. They changed the channel on the T.V to AMC, a re-run of Walker, Texas Ranger was on.

  My mom and I loved that show, we use to watch it every morning when she was getting me ready for school in elementary. She gasped and looked over at me.

  “Peter, do you remember this?” she looked over at me excited.

  I looked over at her and said, “You know it.”

  The nurses were excited to see how happy she was over the show and cake.

  “Before we get to into the show and our dessert, let us take a photo of you two! You guys look great,” Bethany said.

  My mom shifted over, she wanted the photo of us taken with me on the hospital bed. I got on. They counted down to three and snapped the photo of us.

  “We’ll get the photo to you guys tomorrow, I’ll make copies,” Bethany said.

  “Now come on, let’s eat some cake, and watch these bad-ass reruns,” the other nurse said.

  I remember the photo from that day. My mom looked so happy in the photo the nurses took. But if you look closely into her eyes you could see the sadness. The sadness my father caused by not being there on their special day. April 4th, 2016 was the last day my mother asked for my father.

  I pulled myself out of my thoughts. I find myself thinking about that day often. The hurt my mom must have felt pierces me. Nurses who hardly even knew my mom did more than my father did on their anniversary. That’s the day I indeed found out my father’s true colors. He was a cold man. What makes the memory worse for me at this moment, is the fact that I now know why he didn’t show up at the hospital. He was with Jessica.

  I continued to hold the knife while looking at my father in disgust. I had completely zoned out, while remembering April 4th. Another thought bombarded my mind. Jessica. Why did dad feel so obligated to tell me her name? Did I ask for the woman who helped my dad break my mom’s heart name? He could have kept that load of bull to himself. My anger was calming down, and disbelief was coming in. How could this be happening to me?

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave this house, Peter.”

  My dad’s words rang throughout my ears. Did my own father ask me to leave my house? Whenever I assume he couldn’t become any viler, he does. My heart started pounding too fast, I thought I was about to blackout. How confident must he be feeling at this moment? You don’t tell someone something like that when they’re holding an object strong enough to kill you. More than likely that’s his real rea
soning in saying the words. I’m weak, and he knows it. Deep down he knows I won’t harm anyone.

  “Excuse me?”

  That’s the only thing I could manage to say back to him. My voice came out small and quiet.

  “You heard me, boy. Leave my house; you are no longer welcomed here. You’ve disrespected my home. And you’ve disrespected Jessica and me.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I didn’t want to believe what I was hearing. Mom, dad, and I have lived in this house since I was born. I’m sure they bought the house, long before I was even conceived. This is the only home I’ve known. This house holds all my memories, good and bad. This house still holds mom’s scent. I can walk in my mom’s room and still get a lingering whiff of her signature perfume. We’ve already lost the woman who kept up our home. But now the only person who would have kept this house the way mom would have wanted it is being kicked out. He can’t do this, dad doing this has to be illegal.

  Jessica still looked afraid and was lying on the couch. She didn’t even have the decency to try and grab her clothes to cover herself up a bit. I looked at them both, taking them in, trying to figure out how everything could end up so wrong. My eyes glanced around our living room. The paint on our walls was a faint yellow.

  Mom use to say, “Yellow makes everyone happy. Seeing the color helps bring up your mood.”

  Well, mom, the joke is on you. The color isn’t working. I stared at the pictures hanging up on our walls. There were a few family photos, but as I grew up, dad became less, and less in the pictures. We started off with dad in the photos. Then it was dad taking the images of mom and me. In due time, it was only mom taking the pictures of me. It’s almost as if you could see him slipping away, as he disappeared from the photos.

  Once again, I looked over at Jessica. Observing her. She was a weak woman. It was clear she was desperate for a man and would do anything to keep him. While of course, all affairs are awful. Usually, when a man who is cheating on his wife finds out she’s sick, he’ll drop the other woman for his wife. Without any questions asked, but no, not dad. Since my father didn’t have any common sense to do what most men would have done. I would have expected the woman to have some sort of compassion. If she didn’t have any sympathy, at least she could be disgusted by the fact a man would cheat on his wife while she’s dying. But Jessica wasn’t bothered at all, she wanted another woman’s sloppy seconds.