sister desperately needs to talk to her brother; it has been months since they have last spoken or seen each other. Starting with their mother, Elana has called everyone she could think of who might know the whereabouts of her brother Eric. She does not care that they have not spoken, or seen each other in a while. She loves him dearly, and now frantically searches for him. She knows her time is running out.
It is only a matter of days before it will be too late. On the third day of her search, her mother gave Elana a number to call. It is for an old female acquaintance of her brothers; that their mother recently ran into. Elana calls the number that this friend gave her, it is the last number she had for her brother Eric. When she calls the number, she is pleased and relieved to hear his voice.
“Hello Eric speaking.”
“Eric this is Elana, how have you been big brother? I’ve been trying for days to contact you. Why haven’t you called me, Eric?” she says excitedly
“Hey sis how have you been? It’s good to hear your voice. I’ve been doing ok; I just started a new job at a warehouse in Forestville. So I’ve been busy with that.”
“Eric, you need to call me. I’ve missed you”. She smiles as she says those words.
“I’ve missed you too baby girl, my friend told me she saw Ma. You of all people know how my life has been. I’m really trying to get my life together this time Lana. I am forty-eight and too old for the dumb shit I use to get myself into. I’ve got my own place now, and I’m working a good job.”
“Eric that’s wonderful and I’m glad to hear it, but you know if you ever needed help with anything I’m always here for you.”
“I know Lana, but when do I stop leaning on my baby sister and her husband? I appreciate everything you’ve ever done for me Lana. I really do, and I’m man enough to admit that. I do plan to pay you back for everything you’ve done to help me. This new job is working out really well for me.”
“You know it’s not about that. I don’t care about you paying me back anything. You’re my brother and I love you. There are only two of us now, and we need to stick together.”
“I know Lana; I just didn’t want to come around you, until I was sure I had everything where it needs to be. I want you and Ma to be proud of me, as a brother and a son. I just want to clean up my act, because I don’t see too many more chances coming for me.”
“We’ve always been proud of you Eric, none of us had it easy growing up. It would have been a hell of a lot harder if we didn’t have you to protect us. Even in the hardest times we never forgot or stopped loving you.”
“Thank you Lana, that really means a lot to me. Now I feel bad for not having called you or Ma before now.”
“Please don’t feel that way Eric, I understand and it’s not a problem. I know you’ve spoken to Ma on occasion, but you’re a hard man to find when you don’t want to be found, even for her.”
“I never could keep much from you, not even when we were kids. You always knew when something was up with me. I knew it wasn’t much, but I would call Ma every now and then. Just to talk for a minute, I’d ask her not to tell you we’d spoken, until I was ready to call you. I wanted it to be a surprise when we did hook up. Now that we have, I want to take you and Ma to dinner this weekend.” Eric feels great joy now as he speaks with his little sister.
“That would be great Eric, I know Ma would love that, and so would I. Eric, now that we have re-connected let me tell you why it was so urgent for me to find you.”
“Sure Lana; whatever you need just say the word; and I’ll take care of it.”
“Good Eric, because what I have to say may be difficult for you to hear.”
“Go right ahead Lana, I’m all ears.”
“Eric, Sherman is dying, and he wants to see you before it’s too late, before he dies.” There is a long pause between the siblings. For a long while, Eric says nothing. He heard what his sister said, but he does not know exactly what his response should be. He lets her words sink in as he considers his response to her inquiry. “Eric are you still there? Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah, Lana I heard what you said; I honestly don’t know what to say to that. You know exactly how I feel about that motherfucker.” His temporary joy turns to anger.
“I know Eric but he’s dying and in a lot of pain. He’s been asking to see you for days. It seems he can’t stop asking about you.”
“Fuck him! His pain is nothing compared to what we went through. Lana you know I love you, and I’d do anything in the world for you, you know that. But as far as I’m concerned we never had a father, and I don’t give a fuck if that sorry piece of shit nigga dies today or tomorrow!”
“Eric please, hear me out. I know hearing that must have been hard for you. But can’t we let the past go. I used to feel the same way you do, but over the years, I’ve learned to let those feelings go. I don’t forgive him anything; there was a time when I hated him as you do. There was a time when I would have liked to hurt him for leaving us too. But I can’t live with hate in my heart for the rest of my life. The man is dying Eric, can’t we put our bad feelings aside in this case.”
“Have you gone to see him already?” Her brother asks.
“Yes, I’ve been to the hospital two times. I’ve even met three of his other children.”
“He has other children! That motherfucker has at least three other kids? Hell, I don’t know why I’m surprised. To be honest with you Lana, I really don’t want to hear any more about his ass or his other kids.”
“I know I’m asking you a lot Eric, but can you find it in your heart to go see him. Eric, just go see him one time, for only a few minutes?”
“Lana, I really can’t understand why this is so important to you. Has that bastard ever tried to contact any of us? What the fuck did he ever do for any of us including Ma? So what he’s dying, and now he wants to see his kids. What the fuck kind of bullshit is that? When he could have been with us our whole damn lives, he chose not to be. Now the motherfucker is dying and daddy wants to see his kids.”
“Eric trust me. I do know how you feel, and I can’t make you do this. Just hear me out one last time, don’t do it for him, Ma, or yourself. Like you said, the hell with him, I do understand that.
Eric I have always depended on you our whole lives. You have always been my hero of a big brother. You have always come to my rescue when I needed you. Even when you’re not around, we are always connected. We have always been close after everything that’s happened in our lives, and I cherish that. Please do this one thing for me, and for the family that we’ve lost. You’re the oldest, and you represent us, so for Paul, Deborah, and Dolores please do this and I will never ask you for anything again.”
“Lana this is that important to you?”
“Yes Eric it is, because I have accepted things the way they are, and I can forgive the past.”
“Lana you always had a way of getting to me like no one else could. I guess you always will sis. If this means so much to you, I’ll go see his dying ass, not for me, but for our family.”
“Thank you Eric, this means a lot to me, I love you Eric.”
“I love you too Lana.”
“Do you want me to take you where he is?”
“No just tell me where he’s at, and give me the room number. I’ll make my way there tomorrow.”
“Ok, call me at home if you want to talk afterwards. Even if you don’t want to talk about him please call me.”
“I will Lana. Talk to you later.”
Elana gives her brother the name of the hospital, and his room number. She also tells him the hospital enforces visiting hours, because there are many terminal patients in the ward he will be visiting.
That night as he lies in bed, Eric thinks long and hard about the conversation he had with his sister. He cannot sleep even though he has been drinking since he hung up with her hours ago. Eric swore he would never touch alcohol again after the last incident he was involved in, but the news his sister gave him has taken a toll on him. In spite of all he has been through and all the shit, he knows he has put her through. She loves him without condition. He has conflicting feelings about what she asked him to do. Although he hates it, he knows he will do as she asked, only because he loves her. He eventually goes to sleep, once he justifies in his own mind, a more personal reason for paying Sherman a visit.
The next evening at 8:00 p.m., Eric finds himself standing outside the hospital where his father is dying. A friend at the warehouse gave him a ride after work. He decides to walk in before he changes his mind. He intentionally chose to come late in the evening just before visiting hours terminate at 9:00 p.m. He doesn’t want to be in that man’s presence any longer than he has to be. Eric tells himself that no matter how long he stays, he kept the promise that he made to his sister. He walks in without checking in at the front desk, and goes straight to the elevator. He takes it up to the eighth floor, and follows the numbered signs to room 821. Eric approaches the hall leading to his father’s room. It is located at the end of the corridor. He notices four people leaving that same room. He sits down in a chair across from the empty nurse’s station. Eric discreetly watches the four individuals as they approach him, sign out on the visitor’s log, and quietly pass him on their way to the elevator. The four do not speak to each other, as they walk together, holding hands, but Eric notices the profound sadness they each show on their faces. Tears falling from both the women’s eyes as they try to control the sadness they feel. The men with them try to appear stoic, but the sadness easily shows through.
After they get on the elevator, and the doors close, Eric walks over to the visitor’s log, and reads the names of the four people who just left Sherman’s room. He notes that all four signed the log as Sherman’s children, and they didn’t stay very long according to the log times. Walking down the corridor, Eric notices that there is an un-nerving smell in the air on this floor. For some reason a voice in his mind tells him it’s the smell of death. That thought does not bother him; in fact, it almost gives him a sense of comfort. That maybe Sherman is dead, and he won’t have to deal with him.
What the fuck, Eric thinks to himself. The motherfucker got to see his other kids before he died. Eric stops at the closed door, not sure, if he wants to walk in or not. His heart is beating slightly faster than it should, and he even feels himself tremble a little. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and walks in the room. The first thing he notices in the dimly lit room is the smell; a sickly combination of antiseptic and the death smell he noticed earlier. He looks past the empty bed closest to him, and stares at the occupied bed. Eric stares at the sleeping figure, and decides that at one time he was a good-sized man in his youth. The man now appears quite frail, IVs and monitors hooked up to his body. The monitors make no sound, but Eric can see the electronic pulses and other activity on the screens that monitor the man’s vital signs. Indicating that he is not dead yet. Eric looks from one monitor to the next; one in particular catches his attention. It says Morphine Drip Control Unit. All three monitors though show some signs of life in the now frail man lying in the bed. He stares at the old man lying there and thinks, he himself, looks nothing like that old bastard. Eric thinks that their only similarity is their height and size. Eric slowly walks over to the bed, takes away one of the two chairs on the right side and sits down. Eric stares at the two remaining chairs on the far side of the bed. No doubt, his other children sat in a circle around him as they visited him. Eric sits beside the bed and stares at the man lying there. Hundreds of questions race through his mind. Years of questions, he needs answers to. He wonders if even a fraction of them can be answered here tonight, before this motherfucker checks out. He decides that it doesn’t really matter. Nothing this old man can say to him is going to matter or change a damn thing. He decides to leave after only a few seconds of looking at the dying old man. Having kept his promise to his sister, Eric wants to leave. He tells himself he saw the motherfucker before he checked out. Conversation is neither desired nor required. Eric stands, turns toward the door, and begins to walk away when his father speaks.
“Son, is that you? Eric, is that you son? Please sit down.” Eric turns toward the man’s voice, looks at him, and slowly returns to his seat. The elder man holds out both his hands, and begins to open his arms as if he wants to hug Eric. Eric sits down and does not move he is repulsed by the thought of touching him, and the smell that lingers over him. Ignoring the gesture, he simply stares at the man in the bed. “Son can you please give me a hug? I miss you son.”
Eric notices Sherman’s voice is still rather strong for a man in his condition, not broken or soft, but it seems to hurt him to speak louder than he is. As if, there is a problem with his throat. Then Eric notices the small bandage just below his Adams Apple. “I don’t want to hug you.” Eric says, as he looks in his father’s eyes. Sherman puts his arms down, obviously hurt that his son does not want to touch him. He continues speaking to his son.
“Son, you’re my oldest, there is so much I want to tell you, and talk to you about before it’s too late. Your sister was here a few days ago. We had a good visit, she really grew up into a good woman, and I only wish she had a grandson for me to hug as well.”
Sherman looks at his son, and continues speaking in a strained voice due to his pain.
“You see son, I’m dying of renal failure, and the doctors say I’m too old for a kidney transplant, so I can’t get on any of the donor lists. The best they can do for me is managing my pain. I only have one kidney with partial function, and son you wouldn’t believe the pain I have. Sometimes it’s so bad I can’t take it anymore. Son, I have a big favor to ask of you. Would you agree to be tested, to see if we would be a match for a kidney transplant? I need a kidney son, and the only way that’s gonna happen is if one of my male children donates a kidney to me. I don’t want to die son. Would you please help me, would you do this for your father?”
Eric stares at Sherman dumb founded, not sure what to say to him, if anything. Then Eric notices something in the old man’s aged eyes as he speaks; something that is very familiar. A look Eric has seen all his life but could never give it a name. It stirs very negative feelings in him, and it pisses him off. Looking at Sherman and listening to the bullshit he just ran down on him, Eric decides he will have the conversation with him he has always wanted to have.
“Old man just who the fuck do you think you are! My head is all kind of fucked up listening to you. What the fuck makes you think I give a damn about you dying of anything. I haven’t seen or heard from you in how long? My whole fuckin’ life and you have the balls to ask me for a fuckin’ kidney. I’m your oldest; there is so much you want to talk to me about, so much you need to say to me. Because you’re dying, you think that gives you that right, after all these fuckin’ years, to claim fatherhood for a son you abandoned years ago. After all this damn time, I’m supposed to embrace you as my father and help you. Give you one of my kidneys. Old man you must be delusional, or that shit they have you on has you tripping. To think I would be stupid enough, to agree to some shit like that, and believe me, I’m far from stupid. Now I totally understand why you wanted to see me so damn desperately. I know you didn’t tell Lana that bullshit about you needing me to donate a kidney to your ass. She would have told you to go straight to hell. I don’t know how long your ass has been here dying, but I would probably be right in guessing all your other male children, and who the fuck knows how many that is, told you to go straight to hell too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, well you can add my name to the list too motherfucker, fuck you! Before I leave here though, I have a hell of a lot to say to you.” Eric feels the anger within reaching the boiling point. “First of all, what the fuck do you know about my sister or me for that matter? Hell, what about the three of us who are gone, my brother and two sisters who aren’t here anymore? And don’t call me son again, I’m not your fuckin’ son and I never have been,” Eric responds.
Sherman starts to call Eric son again but catches himself. “Eric, please there is so much I want to tell you about my past. I know your upset with me and you have a right to be, but there are things you don’t know. I’m still your father whether you like it or not, and we need to talk. So would you please give me a chance and listen to me, please? I’m begging you son.”
“Hold the fuck up! You’re still my what? Did you say you’re my father, so I have to listen to you! Old man who the fuck do you think you’re talking to an idiot? Motherfucker you haven’t been shit to me, or any of my sisters or my brother in over forty years! The only reason I’m here is because now, after all these decades you need something from me.” Eric responds angrily. Eric at this moment is trying with all his might to contain the fury he feels. He now knows the only way to get rid of what he is feeling is to tell this man, who calls himself his father, exactly what’s on his mind, and what he feels in his heart.
“You know, I honestly don’t know where to start with you. Let me tell you something off the break. Before you get shit twisted, and all fucked up, you need to know that I feel exactly nothing for you old man. The only reason I brought my black ass here is because I promised my sister Lana I would. I love her with all I have in me, and I promised her I would come see your dying old ass.” Eric pauses briefly to allow himself to calm down.
“If that is how you feel then please leave Eric, I see we have nothing to talk about, and you’re not going to help me no matter what I say,” Sherman says as he looks away from Eric.
Eric stands and points at Sherman, then holds his fist inches away from Sherman’s face. “Oh hell nah, Old man! You don’t get rid of me that easy. I’m gonna be here now for a while. Everything in me that’s fucked up is about to be released on your dying ass tonight goddamnit! And you’re right. You can forget about the kidney thing.” Eric says to Sherman in a menacing voice. Sherman looks up at his son standing over him and speaks.
“I’m dying Eric, can’t we make peace, can we do that please.” Sherman pleads.
“Fuck no! I have a lifetime of fucked up experiences to tell you about old man, and you’re gonna listen if it takes all night.”
Sherman reaches for the intercom on his bed to call the duty nurse. He wants Eric removed from his room. Eric stops him and whispers something in Sherman’s ear. Sherman looks into his son’s eyes and puts the intercom down. At that moment, a very young looking nurse making her rounds enters the room. She informs Eric that visiting hours are over, and that all visitors are required to leave now. Eric walks to the foot of Sherman’s bed, stands there, and stares at him.
“Nurse this is a friend of my family, I haven’t seen him in a while, there is no one else in the room but us. Is there any way he can stay with me a while, my youngest daughter was allowed to stay overnight with me a few days ago. Please nurse, I don’t have much time?” asks Sherman.
“That would be ok as long as you feel up to it Mr. Sherman. I’m going off duty now so I tell you what; I just won’t let the duty nurse know you have a late visitor. Good night Mr. Sherman, I’ll see you in the morning.” Responds the nurse as she turns to walk away. Sherman replies that he will be fine and the nurse leaves the room. Eric returns to the seat he was in after the nurse leaves the room.
“Now old man, before we get this going, what exactly is it you want to say to me?” asks Eric
“Eric, I just want you to know that I love all my children. I’m sorry for not being there for you when you were growing up. Eric back then things were different. I was different, and I was young, and didn’t understand what it was to be a father. For that mistake, I have felt shame all my life. Can you understand what I’m saying son, can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
Eric says nothing at first as he stands and approaches the bed. He takes the beds control and raises the bed to almost ninety degrees, and he sits at the foot of the bed, looking at his father.
“That’s the best you can do, can I forgive you, and you’re sorry. I have a better question, why should I forgive your sorry ass? I don’t know, or even remember you, but I know this. I sure as hell remember every moment of my life without a father being there with us. I remember every night my mother went to bed crying, because it was such a struggle for her to take care of us on her own. I remember her not abandoning us when she could have done the same shit you did. I remember the pain she felt each time one of her children died. I remember her getting beat by a sorry ass boyfriend, and I was powerless to help her. She hung in there and sacrificed her whole life for us. So to ask me to forgive your ass for abandoning us is one more slap in the face to me, and my family. Before you die, I want you to know what it was like for us growing up. I’d like to be here when you breathe your last useless breath. I want the satisfaction of watching you die helpless and useless. The way vulnerable children are helpless, when they have no one there to protect and guide them. Before that happens though you need to know what our lives were like. I honestly don’t know where to begin old man, so we’ll start with my first memories of grade school. I’ll tell you this too old man; you will listen to every goddamn word I have to say to you, even if it takes all fuckin’ night.”
Sherman can say nothing, he can do nothing, and he is totally helpless. His son talks and his life sign monitors quietly track his vital functions. His heart monitor reacts occasionally, as he listens to his son. He simply sits in his bed; sitting up in the position his son put him in. The pain he feels in his back he keeps to himself. He wishes now that he had never asked to see his oldest child. He had not anticipated there would be so much fury, in the man who now sits at the foot of his bed. Sherman had hoped all his children would embrace him in his final hours, he was wrong. He has never been in any of their lives for any significant amount of time. He wanted to die knowing that they had forgiven him, and that they had some degree of love for him. He wanted so badly to be acknowledged as their father; to share some small part of lives he had nothing to do with cultivating, before death takes him. He also realizes that most, if not all, of the hatred directed at him now is partly his own fault. So he decides with his last bit of strength to listen to the story this man, who he cannot embrace as his son, has to tell.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to sit in a classroom full of kids your age? Kids that are not related to you, at a new school, say around six years old. The teacher asks each child to stand, and say their name. Then to tell the class what their father does for a living. Before the teacher got to me, all the kids proudly talked about what they knew of their fathers work. I remember it even being a little funny. Six year olds trying to describe an adult’s job they know nothing about, and the teacher playfully helping them along.
Well there wasn’t a damn thing funny about what I had to say when it was my turn to speak. I remember every word I said, and how I said it. Being six years old, I proudly stood up; put my hands at my side. Looked around the class as I said my name smiling, and said with a child’s innocence. I don’t know what my daddy do. He don’t live wit us, my mommy say he ain’t shit. All the children put their hands over their mouths and ears, and I didn’t know what to think. The teacher immediately stood up and shouted ‘Eric! Go to the back of the room and stand in the corner!’ That came with a smack across the ass, as the bitch escorted me to the corner. Where I was made to stand until lunch hour, and I had no idea what I had done to be punished, and humiliated like that. Then I had to eat by myself because the teacher wouldn’t let any of the other kids sit with me. Now, I don’t know how many babies you have in the world, or how many of them you actually had a hand in raising. But kids can be extremely cruel to each other. That’s something else I learned quickly after I started going to school. I remember telling my mother about that day in school after I got home; she hugged me and told me I had done nothing wrong. I clearly remember her saying to me. Baby it’s not your fault; I don’t want you to be ashamed of anything. Your daddy didn’t want to stay with us, but its ok, because we have each other, and I will take care of our family. I do remember her taking me to school the next day and going to that teacher’s ass. Ma didn’t go at her physically, but with words. I learned two very important lessons that day, that my mother was my protector, and never to talk about your sorry ass in public, if it could be avoided. You see old man, I learned at an early age how fucked up it was to not have a father around. There were other kids in my situation, and we learned to keep certain shit to ourselves. The strange thing about that is, we could look at each other, and somehow we knew that we were the fatherless children. We were the kids who were not good enough to be friends with children who had both parents. We were the fuckin’ outcasts, even in our own schools and neighborhoods.”
Sherman says nothing. He simply listens to his son, sadness showing all over his face, and the pain in his back growing more intense, and moving down his legs.
“Then motherfucker there were the times the school would have activities. Like fathers coming to lunch day. Father son activities day, bring your father to school day, father son dress alike day, father son field trips and shit that I wasn’t allowed to go on because of you. Back then, schools incorporated a lot of activities around the family. All that father son shit, and you’re sorry fuckin’ ass was nowhere to be found. We had to carry that shame. Now mom did her best to be with all of us when she could, for school functions, but she had to work. Since we lived with our grandparents, on occasion grandfather would come to a function, if he could. It was nice being with him. I’d walk next to him proudly holding his hand. My little chest full of pride, and it felt good because I had a man with me too, like everybody else, a real life grown man. But I would always see that fuckin’ look in every body’s eyes. The kids, the fathers, and the fuckin’ teachers all had that look in their eyes. That look that says you don’t have a father and I do. That look that said to me your old grandfather is not your real daddy. That you’re one of those fatherless kids, I’m not, and I’m better than you. I learned to spot that arrogant, conceited look in people’s eyes, that look that says I’m better than you and your nothing. But you know something; my grandfather gave me the key to get over all that bullshit. He explained to me in very simple terms, I didn’t have to try so hard to make people like me, or except me. Either they would, or they wouldn’t, so to hell with them. You just find something your good at, and be the best at it, and when you make real friends, you’ll know, because they’ll always be there for you and you for them. It broke my little heart when grandfather died a year later. I remember thinking another man, my grandfather left us all alone again, and it hurt like hell. But at least he was there for us my whole life up to that time. Shortly after he died though other things changed for us, and I didn’t know why until years later, but I’ll come back to that. But before grandfather died, I made him proud, because I quickly learned what it was I was good at, fighting and academics. Grandfather and I would spend hours watching boxing matches. I’d listen to him talk about the great fighters of his day. He would even show me a lot of different moves, and explain to me why they worked or didn’t. We would go to the local gym, and watch the fighters train. We would be there for hours on the weekends. I started training and working with the fighters and I loved it. I took that shit and I learned to fight the hard way, in the streets. After taking a few ass kicking’s I got good at it real fast. For every beating I took, I learned from the guys at the gym what I did wrong, and corrected it. This would cause me no end of trouble later in my life. But in time I became the defender of my family because we had no one else to protect us. I also learned quickly that grandfather was right about something else. After I learned I really had a talent for my schoolwork, I soon became a star pupil. And in time nobody cared, I didn’t have a father like they did, because I had something they didn’t. I could hold my head up high because I was smarter than them. I took great pride in the fact that many kids hated that about me, and my brother and sisters, but because I could also kick the shit out of many of them, nobody fucked with us. Mom was always so proud of the grades we brought home, our papers, and report cards always made her smile. But you know another thing we, the fatherless children learned. We were always among the smartest kids in any class throughout school. I never could figure that one out, my brother and sisters included were very talented students. As were most of the other fatherless children, I’ve ever met growing up. Many of us fucked up royally later in life. We did lack a serious component in our lives though, any fuckin’ idea what that could be old man? Eric directs that question at Sherman and he says nothing, only the deep sadness in his eye responds for him. Eric continues. Another thing that I’ve always had is one hell of a memory, which allows me to relive this shit over and over again. For instance, like how the holiday gatherings were occasions we use to look forward to. Suddenly all that shit changed after Grandfather died. You still with me old man? You need to listen to this shit, I’m about to tell you some real shit.” Eric states. Sherman responds by nodding his head, the pain in his back and legs getting worse.
“Eric would you please lower the bed just a little, my back is starting to hurt.” He pleads.
“Fuck you and your back; I’m not going to let your ass go to sleep on me. And the pain in your back is nothing compared to the pain we’ve suffered, so your just gonna have to man the fuck up and deal with the shit. The same way we were forced to deal with our pain. Hit that damn morphine drip button, you’ll be alright.” Eric tells his father. “As I was saying family gatherings used to be fun at first, because it gave us a sense of belonging within the family, that my family was accepted for who we were. I started out truly loving all the grown-ups as only a child could. I looked up to every adult in the family who would come to picnics, cookouts, and holiday dinners, until some shit kicked off at one particular Christmas dinner that I would never forget. I really thought those bastards cared about us, then after grandfather died, I learned that the only reason we were tolerated was because of him. Can you imagine what it’s like when a child enters a room full of his aunts, uncles, and adult cousins? And he is referred to as one of Donnas Little Bastards. The adults would smile and laugh when they’d say that shit, so I thought it was a good thing at first. Do you know what it’s like when you’re told to leave a room your other little cousins can enter? They are welcomed and not talked about like animals, especially when your mother is not there to see it or hear it? Of course, the child doesn’t know at first, their talking about him and his family in a fucked up way. Then you realize that you’re treated differently than other kids in the family, and you don’t know why. You’re given different foods from the other kids when your mother is not around. Certain family members don’t want you around their own kids. The presents we got at Christmas, if any, from those fuckers were a joke compared to other kids in the family. I remember one specific year; I was ten years old. It was time for the children to open gifts from family members. All the other children got really nice toys, and other presents. My mother gave very expensive toys and gifts to her sister’s and cousins children. Among the adults, it had been pre-planned who was going to buy what for whom. Now Ma only ever got one or two nice toys and clothes for each of us. That was fine. There were five of us. Well on this particular fuckin’ Christmas day. I clearly remember my family sitting at our mother’s feet, at my aunt’s house after we ate dinner. We watched as gifts were exchanged back and forth among all the adults, and kids in the family. There were a lot of children. I remember the excited looks, and smiles on all the kid’s faces as they opened their gifts, and screamed out with joy. I remember the gifts from my mother to those other little motherfuckers, and at that time those were damn nice toys and other gifts. I remember my brother and sisters sitting there waiting patiently for our gifts from the family. Waiting for our presents to come around, we watched for damn near an hour. As the pile of wrapped gifts got smaller and smaller, not one of our names was called to get one. My mother bought all that shit for other motherfuckers, and not one of them even got her a gift. I remember Uncle Butch had to go back to Grandmother’s house just to pick that shit up. Uncle Butch himself gave out four new bikes. We looked at Ma, and none of us could hold back the tears. My mother jumped up and said, ‘What the hell is going on here! Where are the things for my kids?’ Eric smiles as he recalls his mother saying that. You know what those rotten motherfuckers said to her. Her sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins, all them motherfuckers had the nerve to tell her that they were gonna take care of us later. My grandmother was in tears, and so were we. I watched my mother turn into the Incredible Hulk on those motherfuckers. Close your eyes old man while I describe what happened next. Picture my mother in action, defending her family, against a bunch of sorry ass no good no fuckers, who would purposely treat children that way. To do what you’re sorry ass wasn’t around to do. My mother stood there for a second, taking in what her own sister said about taking care of us later, and the look on her face turned menacing. When Ma spoke she was pissed. Oh, hell no!, you niggers must be out of your goddamn minds, if you think I’m gonna take this kind of shit from any of you motherfuckers. I do what we all agreed to do, and you motherfuckers think I’m gonna let you get away with this shit. I could have spent my money on my own kids if I had known you fuckers were gonna pull this shit. I’ll be damned if I let any of you treat my kids this way. She called the names of everyone she bought a gift or toy for. Ma told those little bastards, and the older teenagers to give her shit back. Those who didn’t respond she went to them; the fury in her eyes was like fire. No one said shit, or tried to stop her. Throughout the house she went and took her gifts back. She cursed every adult in that motherfucker out along the way. All except my Grandmother and Uncle Butch, who himself was disgusted by what they had done to us. I learned something else about my mother that day. How strong she could be, and that they were afraid of her. I had never heard my mother really curse, or even seen her angry, but when she went off on those fuckers, not one of them made a move to stop her, or even said shit back. Now uncle butch had her back because they were always close, and he was like a surrogate father to us. I don’t think that is what really kept their asses from getting stupid though. They realized how ugly they really were, and how fucked up it was to pull that shit on my mother and us. My grandmother told everyone there, that if grandfather were here they never would have pulled that stunt on Ma. The old dude was really feared and respected by everybody in the family. I later learned that growing up Grandfather favored my mother since she was the youngest of his daughters; I guess many in the family always resented that, so they took the shit out on us. My mother gathered us up; we got our coats, and got the fuck out of there. Uncle Butch walked Grandmother to the car, loaded all those toys, and shit in the car. Then when we were ready to go, he started, then turned off the car, and went back inside my aunt’s house. About five minutes later, he came out that motherfucker with two of the bikes he had brought over there. He tied them to the hood of his car and we got the fuck away from there. Did you know that the family predicted that we would all end up in jail, as prostitutes, or derelicts living on the streets? That’s what they thought of us, my own fuckin’ family. That was one of the last family functions we ever went to, our relationships with the entire sorry ass family changed after that. It would be years before I would even speak to any of those bastards again. Hey! Old man open your eyes, did you see that, was my description vivid enough for you to picture that shit? Did that give you even a small idea of the kind of shit we had to deal with growing up?”
Sherman looks at Eric and he has no idea what to say to him. He knows there is nothing that he can say that will erase away the pain of those early experiences. He looks at Eric, and then turns his head away in shame as he speaks.
“I don’t know what to say Eric, what would you have me do? I can’t change the past, and I can’t say I’m sorry enough about what you all went through.”
“You’re right about that old man but let me ask you a question, because what I told you is just the tip of the fuckin’ iceberg. I want you to answer me this, if you could change your life from what it was, and instead been with us our whole lives as a father should be, would you?”
Sherman closes his eyes and opens them; he looks at Eric and gives him his answer.
“I’m too old to lie to you Eric, and in too much pain. I had a good life, and I’ve made many mistakes, as much as it hurts me to say this to you, I wouldn’t change my life as it has been. Not even to be the father that you needed me to be. Or to the sixteen other children I have out in the world. Eric you don’t understand how things where back then, you don’t know how it was.”
“Motherfucker then make me understand why you abandoned us. Tell me why you’d have kids, and then just say the hell with them. We needed your sorry ass, and now death is knocking on your fuckin’ door. You show up now, and you need us for body parts. I can’t believe this, to top it all off, you want us to forgive you. Is the answer the same for all your other children motherfucker or just us? Have any or all of them forgiven you for abandoning them? Besides the four people I saw leave this room, how many of your other children have forgiven your sorry ass? Did any of them feel sorry enough for your ass to give you a kidney, because you’re dying?” There is a long pause between the two.
“Since you don’t have an answer for me, it must have been hell no.” Sherman says nothing and refuses to answer Eric’s questions; the shame he feels prevents him from even looking at Eric. Eric looks at Sherman, and he feels a rage build within him that he has felt many times in his life. There is an internal struggle building within him, and he tries with all his might to control the thoughts and feelings he is experiencing.
“You lay your sorry ass there and you ask me to forgive you, how the fuck can you possibly think that I would ever do that. You know something old man, even if you would have lied about changing your life. I wouldn’t have believed you. Obviously, your idea of being a man was to live your life as you pleased. Have goddamn babies everywhere, with absolutely no intention of taking care of them what so ever. Did you even know that two of my sisters and my baby brother are dead? Do you know how they died or when? I know your sorry ass wasn’t at their Funerals. Do you have any idea of the toll that took on Ma and the years it took her to get over their deaths? She had to watch three of her children die, no mother should have to deal with that, where the fuck were you when our lives unraveled? Let me tell you how they died, kids with so much potential trying their hardest to do the right thing. Living in the hood in Southeast D.C. Left to the mercy of the streets took a serious toll on all of us. I tried to protect us from a lot of that. I tried as hard as I could, but I wasn’t able to protect us the way we needed. And in some cases the wrong way, I ended up causing my family a lot of pain going to jail, trying to do what I thought was right. Paul died when he was 17. He and two friends were going out to celebrate their High School Graduation. Paul was always a good kid, not getting into trouble like his older brother. The Air Force recruited him as a Communications Specialist; he was looking forward to starting his military career. Paul also planned on going to college while serving in the Air Force. He and his friends went to a movie to celebrate, and where heading to a pizza place afterwards. A truck hit the car they were riding in head on, while they were stopped at a fucking traffic light. Paul and the driver where killed instantly they told us. The young man who was riding in the back seat is now crippled for life due to his injuries. Did you even know that my brother is dead? Paul had so much to live for, and he was taken from us like that. The driver of the truck that hit their car wasn’t even scratched. The fucker was a repeat offender with multiple drunken driving convictions. He had no insurance, and no compassion for the three young lives he ruined. In court, that bastard showed no remorse or regret, his lawyer portrayed the innocent victims as the guilty parties. They portrayed it like it was my brothers, and his friend’s fault they were stopped at a fuckin’ light when he smashed into them. That motherfucker got off with a slap on the wrist again, I said fuck that, I eventually caught up to him. I dealt with his ass my way. I made sure he’d never kill another young person because he got off on getting fucked up drunk, and getting behind the wheel of a car.”
Sherman looks at Eric and asks him what he did to the other driver.
Eric tells Sherman it’s none of his fuckin’ business. Like the number of children he has out in the world that he never cared about, but needs now. When Eric speaks, it is with a fury that sends Sherman’s heart into overdrive.
“What happened to the driver that killed my baby brother is none of your fuckin’ business.” Eric tells Sherman to shut up and listen to how his two younger sisters died.
“Deborah and Delores were crushed by Paul’s death, and so was I. We did our best to move forward with our lives the way Paul would have wanted. The girls were doing much better than me, for a while it looked like they would be fine. But it seemed that bad luck always found a way to fuck with us. Years later Deborah was diagnosed with, and died from ovarian cancer; she was a nurse and engaged to be married to a good man.
She was on a fast track to get her career going and start her own family. Then by the time we learned she had cancer, it had spread to the point that there was nothing that could be done for her. We were with her when she died; she went peacefully in her sleep at 27. Delores never really recovered from Deborah’s death, as much as we tried our best to help her. They were very close, and when Deborah died, it’s like a part of Delores died as well. What we didn’t know at the time was Delores had turned to drugs big time. I suspected it, but by the time we found out what really happened she died of a drug overdose at twenty-nine. I was in jail at the time, for beating her sorry ass boyfriend nearly to death, for beating on her. I always suspected him of turning her on to the shit that killed her. I was allowed to go to her funeral, and then I spent the next two years in jail for assaulting the man who beat my sister. When I got out that motherfucker he was the first person I went to go see. Let’s just say he’ll never put his hands on anyone else’s sister or daughter.” Eric looks at his father and smiles, but the smile doesn’t convey anything close to happiness.
Sherman looks at Eric and wishes that a nurse or a doctor would come into his room. This man who now sits at the foot of his bed terrifies him. There is a certain menace about him that is both frightening and foreboding. Sherman does not want to hear any more of these stories. These very tragic stories about people he never knew. Even if they are his kids, he can’t change what happened, and he can do nothing about their lives or deaths. This is not the reason he wanted to see his oldest son. He wishes that he would just leave and let him die in peace. All Sherman wanted before he died, was to hear his kids say that they loved him, even if it wasn’t true he just wanted to hear the words. Just maybe one of them would help him live a little longer. He sees something else in Eric’s eyes now, and it terrifies him. It has nothing to do with love.
“What do you think so far old man? Do you have anything to say? I use to always wonder what our lives may have been like if our father was with us. Not anymore, but that thought would creep into my mind from time to time. Now I will grant you this, I have met people who hated their father, and the motherfucker lived with the family. He was usually an alcoholic, a deadbeat who wouldn’t work. A junkie or women beater, because he wasn’t man enough to do, what he needed to as a man or father. Motherfuckers like that did nothing but bring shame to their families. In many cases when a sorry fucker like that up and left, died, or got locked up, it was a cause for celebration. I already told you a little about how our lives have been; let me tell you a little about the woman you left behind with her five children. My mother is kind, loving, and generous, just as my Grandmother was. She did the best she could with us, and I give her all the credit in the world. She protected us, fed us, clothed us, kept a roof over our heads, and sacrificed for us. I can’t say enough about her or praise her enough for the things she did for us. But I guess to someone like you that doesn’t mean Jack-shit right. She didn’t do anything more than what a mother is supposed to do for her children, right old man. Was that the secret to your plan? You would choose to fuck women who in your estimate would be fine raising children without your sorry ass, if they got pregnant? My mother got us all to adulthood and did a good job; fate is what fucked us over. Obviously, at least one of your other baby mama’s did the same thing since I saw four more of your grown children earlier. Did you ask one of the men in that group for a kidney as well? I would have loved to have been here, and seen the look on your face when one or both of them told you to go to hell. I’m happy as hell my mother is still here, after all the shit she had to go through, but it damn sure wasn’t easy. Old man my head is still fucked up about something though, I need to ask you a question, but first let me help you out with your lines.”
Eric walks over to where Sherman’s IVs are set up; he traces the power cords for the morphine drip, and the nurse station intercom and unplugs them. Sherman’s eyes go wide, and he opens his mouth to say something then stops. He knows his words would have no effect on this man; Eric sits back in his seat.
“I noticed you pushing that damn morphine button a little too much, that shit must knockout the pain fast, but it doesn’t last long does it. How does your back feel old man? I hope your pain won’t become too unbearable; we still have a long way to go. Now the question I want the answer to is, where does a sperm donor get off calling himself a father? Can you please answer that for me?” Do that and I promise I’ll get the fuck outta here, and let your old ass die in peace?” Sherman does not want to speak; the pain in his back is so intense now. He wants to scream out for someone to help him, any one, but he is afraid. He feels himself lose control of his bowels and he shits himself.
“Goddamn! Old man, did you shit on yourself? Damn you stink, but I’ll be leaving soon, and someone will come clean your sorry ass up. Being helpless is a fucked up feeling isn’t it old man? We still have more talking to do so deal with it.”
Sherman understands Eric wants him to suffer, to humiliate him, but he can’t understand what good his suffering will do to change anything; I’m dying Sherman thinks to himself
“Alright Eric I’ll try to answer your question, but first, could you please plug my pain medication back in, and let me call a nurse to help me?” Sherman pleads in a painful voice, his eyes starting to water, and the feel of sitting in excrement is beyond humiliating.
“This is not a negotiation old man, and after you shitted on yourself I don’t want to come anywhere near you. Answer my question, what makes a sperm donor think he’s a father?”
