Chapter 1

The first chapter of my book focuses on the two main characters, Henry James Jr. and Henry James Sr.

I, Henry Lewis James Jr., remember the day of March 9, 2009 as good as the last four digits of Social Security number because it was the day in which I served half a day for eating some damn ice cream. Yep. That’s right. Ya boy spent half a day in his room for enjoying some vanilla flavored ice cream. Not the kind that come from Breyers or Mayfield. I’m talking about the cheap kind that come from the IGA. The brand that came in that ugly a*s blue and black box.

            Now, I may not have worn an orange jumpsuit during my stint in jail, but I did have the pleasure of wearing a comfortable white T that matched my light gray jogging pants. I also decided to complete my distinct ensemble with a great of pair of white Hanes socks that stopped halfway on my calf muscle along with a pair of Nike sandals. I’m talking about the kind that cost five dollars at your local discount store. I was in true jail spirit.

            At first, serving time didn’t feel so bad because I got the chance to complete some homework while enjoying the sun’s ability to break through my window as it revealed the hue of the walls that delimited me. To me, the sun’s light was very important because I was jailed in the facility that was located with the vicinity of tall, hideous pine trees that had the funniest odor. Having the chance to see the mahogany toned walls and almond color carpet for just a little while would make me smile a little for a just a little while.

            However, when the night arrived, being an inmate became a little difficult because I hated the dark. Darkness on the outside meant darkness on the inside. It was pitch black in my room due to the thick, ebony curtains that were placed on every window of the confinement. What once felt like a six by nine was now starting to feel more like a four by two. The walls were caving in on me as my little bed that was covered my grandmother’s pink quilt commenced to feeling cold. I needed to find to a way to escape.

            So, I mustered up the strength to break free by simply getting up and walking out of my jail. After the swift escape, I entered the living room. From there on, I discovered that my father, Henry James Sr. was sitting in the living room on his sofa in pitch black darkness, watching an episode of Wheel of Fortune. Man, I was about to face the judge, the jury, the prosecutor, and the warden.

            Even though I couldn’t stand the dark, there were two things that I adored the most; light and good nightly television. It was time for me to enjoy some TV, but convincing my father to give me just a tad bit of freedom wasn’t anyone’s walk in the park. Henry Sr. was one of those strict, “old school” type. He was the totalitarian type. Whatever he said went. Once my father made up his mind, there was no convincing him otherwise. So, I had to play this game to the tee to get my freedom back.

            “Da!” I said softly as I stood with such straight posture in the hallway of our small, blue trailer that was accompanied by raggedy white tiles on the floor. Since incorrect posture was my father’s pet peeve; I figured that standing with great posture was one of the ways that I convince Henry Sr. to say yes to give me my freedom.

            “What?” my father retorted as his eyes turned away from TV to focus me. I must say that the light from the television did a great of revealing my father’s smooth, caramel complexion along with his gray polo and black pants; however, I wished that it didn’t show the cold and stern expression that sat itself on his face because it was messing up my ploy for escape. I became slightly afraid, but I pressed on.

            “Can I get off of punishment?” I asked softly, purposely reducing the tone of voice so that I can sound as innocent of one of the Jacksons.

            Without any hesitation, my father replied by saying no. No, I thought to myself. How could father say no? Damn. It was just some ice cream. How could a parent keep their fifteen year old son in their room for eating some cheap ice cream?

            Despite the fact that I didn’t like my father’s answer, I still had to continue my mission. So, I decided to go on by using the old, “I learned my lesson”, thinking that I would win him, but within that moment, I must’ve forgotten who my father was.

            “That’s what you said the last time and look what you done. You turned around and did the opposite of what you were supposed to do.” My father explained as he continued to keep this cold, stern look.

            Wow. This is a game that I have started and lost, I wondered. It seemed like the same routine that most kids could work on most parents wasn’t working with mine. Why couldn’t father just give in and accept my insincere apology? It wasn’t like I was going to eat some more ice cream the next day. Well, maybe in the next three months, but you get the point. It was time to let go of this trivial situation.

            I may have been losing by at least three touchdowns and a field going, but I still had to attempt going. I was going to get my freedom back.

            “I’m sorry dad”

            “I don’t care,” my father responded. “That’s what you said the last time and look what you done. You turned around and did the opposite of what you were supposed to do.” By this time, Henry Sr. was becoming a little irritated by my ongoing attempt to gain freedom due the increase in his slightly light and kinda deep voice.

            Now, even though I obeyed my dad ninety-six percent off of the time, something within me told me to revolt. I didn’t know where it came from. Maybe it was in the peanut butter sandwich they ate for lunch earlier at school. I don’t know, but whatever it was made me get mad enough to turn and stomp to my room like a little seven year old who couldn’t get a piece of a Popsicle. I was going to show my father that wasn’t going to take this unfair treatment any longer.

            Well, all of that courage and anger kinda backfired on me because I as soon as I was to enter my jail cell, the judge, the jury, the prosecutor, and the warden was right behind me to reprimand me.

            “Boy what did I tell you about that stomping?” he asked his so much power within his voice, suggesting that played this song and dance one too many times.

            “I wasn’t even stomping”. I responded, allowing my head to go down so that my father wouldn’t see my facial expression as I was telling a lie.

            “Oh so I’m a liar now?” my father asked with his cold and stern face facing towards my body, “I saw you turn around and stomp from my living room to your room and you want to call me a liar?

            There may have been many things that Henry Sr. couldn’t stand, but one thing that made him absolutely livid is when someone called him a liar. That was definitely a feather that could break a camel’s back with him. My father was the kind of man who took pride in being a very honest gentleman.

            So with that being said, before I could even respond, I felt the weight of five bricks and an ax come across my face. My father, had slapped the living s**t out of me. Damn. How could a person hit someone that hard? The only thing that I could do was simply fall on the floor. Man, I felt the same way Rochelle Aytes did when Blair Underwood slapped heron Madea’s Family Reunion. Ooh! The pain was so unbearable, all I could do was cry. Literally

            After a quick thirty second of getting the s**t slapped out of, dad bent down and put his fingers under my face to pull it up to his.

            “Little boy, you betta get yo a*s up and get in that room before I do worse.” he demanded as his tone got more little bit lower and little bit more vicious.

            “Yes sir.”

            Instead of arguing with him or getting my a*s whooped even worse, I just swallowed and pride and tears and just entered my jail cell with much dignity. The beat down was too real for me. How could someone get fucked over some ice cream? I didn’t know and at that point, I was too scared to find out. 

Author's Note

Read it and give me your true opinion.

Reviews

[nastassia]

I really enjoy it by far and sorry for such a late response. I have not been on but you write very well.