Chapter two
And I also believed I could see that life one day, maybe when I become like Roy Jones, one of world's greatest boxers.
Noah always told me how possible that was… and how he was going to be my very own coach.
Speaking of Noah, my big brother was finally back and had taken a seat right by my side. After sending a short, reassuring, big-brother smile, we both glanced up at Uncle Brad who placed two small plates of organised left overs for us.
I always wondered if smile was his middle name.
Flashing me a grin, he ruffled my hair and used his eyes to point at the food. "Eat something boy," he winked his good eye, "then you two get some rest before the storm's over. "
Behind a bald, African American man, his intimidating form had put Uncle Tim away on several occasions. But most times, he wasn't there…and we were left in the mercy of brutal hands.
After Uncle Brad had left us to eat, I suddenly found myself gawking at the food without touching it. A strange emotion was bubbling through me. One formed by wondering if mom was alright.
Noah must have felt it too; because he suddenly sighed and glanced at me. "She'll be fine. Don't worry about it Jeff, eat something."
When all I did was turn to him with a pair of moistured eyes, he came closer and put an arm around me.
His other hand searched through my plate and picked up a piece of boiled potatoes, lifting it up to my lips afterwards.
I was hesitant of course, even with the grumbling sounds of hunger in my stomach. When I thought he was going to give up, he looked up at the screen and continued. "You don't go into boxing with the body of a child Jeffery. You eat and grow to be like Roy Jones, don't you?"
Smiling at the question, I accepted the piece of food.
If everyone could be like my older brother, life would be heaven on earth.
***
All their eyes watched me intently, pitifully, almost like I was that poor little kid again in the story I told them.
But of course, I avoided their gazes, preferring to look at the notepad in my hand instead. "We'd eventually dozed off over at his restaurant in wait for the storm to be over," I ended with an indifferent shrug.
The man at the end of our circle nodded slowly. Having swallowed it in hard, he sighed and asked. "Your mother. She sounds like a good soul. What happened to her?"
All eyes glanced towards me again; but not out of pity this time. They wanted the story as well.
A sudden pain hit my throat, one borne from the sadness of the memories that flew in. With my eyes still on my notepad, I managed to keep my voice still as I continued.
***
The storm hadn't ended until past midnight. Noah had me hugged upon his back with his arms bracing me supportivegly.
The darkness remained; but this time, the crescent moon peeped out from beneath the clearing clouds, casting a beautiful glow to the cold sand under our bare feet.
And there I was with a childlike grin on my face as my brother listed the countries he'd always wanted us to visit when we grow up. And how possible it'll become for us after I became a boxer.
"From Spain…then Brazil," he twirled around in one tight circle, me laughing excitedly on his back. "To even England!"
Home was a few meters away and the rows of trees were finally coming to an end. Our mirth continued on and on…even when deep down, we knew Uncle would be there to spoil it again.
The door was ajar when we arrived and the faint light from a flickering bulb spilled out. But proper scrutiny after we'd stepped in told us no one was in our small tavern of a home. And at that moment, I saw something like fear paint Noah's face.
"Mom…mom!" He called out severally, receiving silence and nothing more. Then slowly, he lowered me unto the floor and held my hand in his.
My heart began to thump louder in my chest; and although uncertain of anything at the moment, I also began to call out worriedly to our mother. Together, we strode through the house and towards the back door.
That was when we saw something we knew would change our lives forever.
Blood marred the wooden steps leading down to the backyard; blood in such an amount that made Noah place his hand over my eyes and lift me into his arms again.
The beating of my heart just doubled when I felt tears sting my eyes mildly. Noah stalked over the threshold carefully, down the stairs and unto the muddy floor. I could almost hear his heart beating too.
He finally took his hands from over my eyes and the sight I met made me wish he hadn't.
Just at the bend turning to the side of the house, Uncle Tim was fiddling with a shovel, whooping sand unto it and chipping it in to fill up a pit that was never there before.
With the speed he did it and his gasps and curses, it was obvious he was nervous.
The blood followed in trails from the stairs to the pit. The first image that popped into my mind was hard to swallow and before I knew it, I started having the sharp pain in my throat again while the tears finally spilled down my cheeks.
But as much as I was successful in biting down the scream climbing up my gut, Noah wasn't.
"Mom!!" He suddenly screamed with tears drowning his words.
That was when Uncle recognised our presence. He faced us and it seemed like the first time ever I saw fear on his face. Sweat bathed his forehead and collar. But the sight of my mother's blood in dots upon his dirty clothes hit differently.
"I swear it wasn't on purpose," he began but stopped when Noah continued to scream.
"Mother!" My brother shrieked again and stifled his cries unsuccessfully. "You…killed our mother! You murderer! Mom!"
Uncle's anger immediately returned and he picked up a bloody knife from his feet. "Get into the house now!" He barked and threatened with the blade.
Quietly, I stood and watched the drama unfold. There was my mother's body in a pit half covered with sand. Just in front of it, my hot tempered "new father" threatened us with a blade so we could swallow his crime.
Noah was still wailing at him sadly…angrily. Helplessly.
And me, since I never had the courage to challenge Uncle like my brother did, I just stood there, shivering and thinking of how life was going to be henceforth.
The noise continued until Uncle blurted. "Say a word about this to anyone and you'll end up in the streets!"
Then Noah Thompson quieted down suddenly. That was how it was; the feeling of helplessness. Our transition from single parented kids to orphans was one thing I never saw coming.