The smell of beer and whiskey woke-up eight-year-old, Maximus Dalton, an African-American child who loved football, video games, and his mother dearly. At ten-thirty every night Max had to sleep with one eye opened due to disturbs of his mother Allison’s horrific cries for help as if a demon was harming her. Rummaging and crashing could be heard from the master bedroom, where she begged for mercy. He sprung from his twin-sized bed into action. He swung opened his bedroom door and looked down the dark hallway with a lit door. Max was just a kid; what could he do. That dark hallway looked like a scene right out of Poltergeist. He scrambled down the corridor and thrust the door opened. His mother, Allison, pretty, thin female, cringed in the corner with blood covering her face.
“Mom!” Max cried.
‘Get the fuck out of here, boy!”, Isaiah cursed at his son and tossing him out into the hallway. The bedroom door slammed shut.
Max, hopeless at this point, he had no cellphone, and the family didn’t have a landline phone. He didn’t want his father to go to jail. Max loved his father even though he drinks and does terrible things. The eight-year-old ran into his bedroom, closing the door and jumping in bed. Max held his pillow tight and prayed.
“God, please make it stop. Please, God, make it stop,” Max cried. He wept in his pillow as the chaos continued.
Every morning at breakfast, Max greeted his mother with a kiss before he hurried off to school. She cooked him waffles with a smile as if nothing ever happened. While he waited at the kitchen table for his food, Allison strutted over, placing the plate right before him. Max loved waffles and was about devoured the meal until he noticed the black and blue bruises on her neck and blackened eye. “What happened to her? Who did this to my Mom?” Max asked himself. He knew not to ask his mother because she wouldn’t tell him because he’s just a child and child should stay in their place. Heavy footsteps marched into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Isaiah,” Allison greeted her so-called loving husband.
Isiah, a husky gentleman, mid-forties, good-looking, who always had a frown on his face like the night before, still had the aroma of beer emerging from his body. Max’s father slid the wooden chair along the floor, making a screeching sound and sat down at the table. Isaiah glared directly at Max as he ate his breakfast. It felt as if this monster hovering over him was ready to devour him whole. Max trembled to afraid to look his father in the eye.
“Max!” his father hollered to him.
“Yes,”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir!”
“And what else!”
“Good morning, Dad,” Max answered timidly.
Isaiah wasn’t in the armed forces, but he certainly did act like a drill sergeant. He worked construction which was only seasonal and then when he couldn’t find employment; he turned to the bottle like there was no hope for him and his family.
That morning, in a classroom of third-graders Max sat right behind, pretty, brunette, tan- complexioned, African-American, girly LaTeisha who had the most beautiful head of hair, thick, long, wavy and curly. She and Max kept their attention on the day’s lesson’s, but on the contrary, they were past loved notes to each other. LaTeisha tossed the folded paper on max’s desk. Max opened it cautiously and read it:
“Roses are red; violets are blue.
Max, I’ve got eyes for you,” LeTeisha wrote.
The love note meant the world to Max being in love with your first crush. And, of course, he wrote back to LaTeisha. During recess, the students clamored on the playground as Max and LaTeisha strolled around as if they were older and didn’t have time for child’s play. LaTeisha spoke about how she loved his name and the meaning of Maximus. He told that was the name of the character in the Gladiator movie with Russell Crowe that came out the year 2000. His name meant ” the great one.” Max didn’t feel great; he was a regular kid going to school, plays football, and video games. LaTeisha kissed Max on the cheek because she believed he’d be great someday.
In the backyard of Max’s house that afternoon, Max and his father played football in the lawn. Purposely, Isaiah threw the football hard, hitting his son in the face. Luckily, max didn’t have a bloodied nose or mouth bump on his forehead. Of course, max felt the pain of being hit in the head with the ball. He wept like a baby.
“You better toughen up, boy!” Isaiah screamed.
“I think I’ve got a bump on my head,” Max cried. Isaiah grabbed his son by collar and pinned him against the wall, giving some manly advice.
“Shut the fuck up. I’ve got no time for babies! Grow-up! Your mother got more guts than you. She endures my fist all the time,” Isaiah waving his fist in the air and admitting his abuse. Max rushed into the house in tears, he grabbed some ice from the freezer and ran to the bathroom. The knot on Max’s forehead made him looked like Frankenstein. His self-esteem dropped as he thought of LaTeisha. She would never talk to him again after seeing his large bump. Then his father stood in the doorway of the bathroom, continuing to bitch at Max about manhood.
“You’re a man, Max. So act like it. That’s why I named you Maximus,” Isaiah said.
“Like the movie?”
“Kind of,” his father embarrassed to say, but explained the real for his name.
“The greatest one! And that’s what you are! Whatever you want in life, take it and dominate it like I do your mother because I love her,” Isaiah said as he stormed away from the bathroom doorway. Max shook his head because he knew his father beat his mother up all the time. As a child fearful for his mother’s safety, what could he do to protect her from this hell?
That night, Max watched the Movie “Gladiator” starring Russell Crowe. This film was epic and exciting due to the main character’s courage. And then the scene, where Russell Crowe embraced his wife and son in loving fashioned. Max squinted his eyes, confused on his father’s ideas of what love is. As seen in the film, a man can be strong and loving to his father at the same time.
“My father’s got the meaning of love all wrong,” Max said in his head proceeding to watch the movie.
Short Stories
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Well narrated.Good flow,well connected.true to title. Theme is appealing! I lIke it.
Thank you, Kranand