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I didn’t want my mama to die.
When I shook my head, he jerked the gun from me as he backhanded me, and I stumbled across the kitchen. Landing on my butt with a thud, I sniffled.
“Fucking pussy. See what you’re raising?” He advanced on my Mama and held the gun to her head. My breath caught, and I froze.
“Giles, please,” my mama begged.
Suddenly, he started laughing loud. He pulled the trigger, and it clicked but nothing happened. “Boom,” he whispered, and a tear slipped from my eye.
“My boy is going to be a man, not a pussy like yourbastardof a father,” he said to her before he walked out the door and we heard his motorcycle start up and drive off.
Mama dropped to her knees and walked on them to me. She gathered me in her arms, and I cried like a baby.
“I’m so sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry,” I said over and over.
“Shh, don’t. It’s okay, Ogun. It wasn’t your fault. Go to your room. Okay?” She smoothed my hair and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. I nodded and got up on shaky legs to do as she said. As I got to my door, she called down the hall, “I love you, Ogun.”
“Love you too, Mama.” I spent the rest of the day curled up on my bed with my ratty bear that I kept hidden between my bed and the wall. Papa said it was for babies, so I didn’t let him see it. Mama had gotten it out of the trash the last time he threw it away and told me to keep him safe.
That next night, as my father was at his clubhouse doing God knew what, my grandfather who I’d seen very little of in my six years came to our home. He was a huge man, with a thick dark beard streaked with gray.
“Ogun, you’re going to go far away with your mama. You’ll be safe, but I need you to promise me you’ll take good care of your mama, you hear?” he said as he crouched in front of me.
Nodding, I looked up at him through my long bangs. “Yes, sir,” I said softly.
“Good boy.” He stood and patted my head.
We got in the back seat of my grandmother’s car. Mama lay on the seat, and I crouched on the floor.
“Mama? You’re not bleeding,” I said, confused. She sucked in a breath at the same time my grandmother did.
“Not everything you see will come to pass, sweet boy,” my grandmother said, looking in the rearview mirror at me as I peeked over the seat. “Some things can be changed if you make the right choices. Never forget—Love always wins. Remember that, my boy. Over it all, love wins.”
At the time, I had no idea what that meant.
It would be years before I understood.
