"You're not my real father." My voice was not harsh but my intent was to cut him. His eyes stared into me. I had seen grown men turned into stuttering idiots in the gaze of his icy blue eyes. I now stood nearly as tall and I no longer feared him. I was still too young to know better. My older brother came up from behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He took me out the front door and tossed me in the truck. I was getting too old to be in his shadow. We all were; I was just the only one to say it.
I blamed him for the break up. He could have tried harder to make it work and keep our family together. My mother had remained single for a year hoping they would reconcile. She never stopped loving him. Separated from half of my family, I felt like a visiting stranger in my own life. I was no longer a child and no longer holding my anger inside. My younger brother was the only one still in school while my older brother and I seemed to be in a horse race toward our graves. When they finally ended it, my father told me, "You are not pretending to be my son. And I don't pretend to be your father. Nothing that happens in this world is going to change what you are to me."
My parents still kept in touch and the sons switched often between the two houses. My mom took a job behind the counter of a convenience store. I tried to keep my activities as secret as possible. Things were as normal as they seemed they would ever get. I had come in late with my older brother and saw our father sitting at the table with my mother. We had given up hope that these talks would ever result in our family being whole again. We were bitter at them still. We walked by without a word to either of them and went to our room but eavesdropped through the wall.
A man approached my mother at her job. We heard fear in her voice as she explained what had happened. He said he wanted money from her and if she didn't give it to him he would take her son. My eyes widened and my older brother stared at me. I was fifteen and often carrying a weapon. No one was going to take me anywhere I didn't want to go. Even the police brought back up when they had issues with the brothers. Our father stepped in and warned us about coming home late. We asked about what we had heard. His eyes went stone cold as he pointed at our beds. Since we both were not in school we had backbreaking work to do everyday on our father's property. Our father raised and sold horses and we did everything else. My older brother and I were too stubborn to admit school was much easier.
We had come in late again and expected to be reprimanded but mom was easier to handle than our father. When we entered our mom was crying at the table. A letter had come in the mail from the court. My older brother rushed over and took the letter. He read it aloud and then looked at me. "It's your real dad. He's trying to get custody of you by claiming mom is unfit."
I thought of the argument I had with my father now. I had said he wasn't my real father. I felt that somehow I was being punished for saying those words. I didn't mean what I had said. I shook my head as my brother and I drove to deliver the letter to our father. How could a judge let the man take me? I literally had never seen him. I had been so angry at my parents for splitting our family between two houses. Now I felt somehow responsible for this. I could lose everything unless my mom gave him money to go away.
When we arrived at our father's house there were more cars in the drive than we recognized. We had to park on the roadside. We live in a region of the county designated for farming and livestock so we had no close neighbors out here. Friends and family visited often but never this late at night. When we walked toward the house our younger brother met us. His eyes were wide and scared.
Our younger brother took us to where he had been spying on the events inside. From a cracked window in the living room we could see into the kitchen. Our father was sitting at the table facing our direction. Several large men were standing in the kitchen as well. A man sat across from our father facing away from us. There was a glass of bourbon beside him. When he reached for it we could see his hand shaking. A drop of blood fell from the man's brow on the table beside his drink. He turned his head and we could see more of his features. He had been beaten about his face and head so badly he didn't look human. I felt my older brother grasping my arm tightly.
"I understand what you think you are trying to do. But she doesn't have the kind of money you want from her. As for this threat, you aren't the man you need to be. And no judge will ever hear your case." Our father's eyes were again like ice blue stones and his face without expression. It was difficult to conceive he was speaking so casually with a man so badly beaten. We stared into the window frozen like deer in headlights. Our father calmly spoke again. "Trust me. You are not strong enough to be his father. Don't ever come near my son again."
We took our younger brother and drove back to our mother's house. It was near daylight but she was still awake. The three of us entered the living room pale as ghosts. Her eyes seemed to know what we had seen. She outstretched her arms and we went to her. She embraced us tightly. It was the first time we had let her hold us since the separation.
Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com
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