Two Name

1

Who is my daddy?

That question confuses me. Very recently, a strange man and his wife have taken my mama and daddy to court, saying he is my biological father and that he should have paternal rights to me. He is a scary man, with a hard looking face and stone-like exterior. His wife is a petite lady, a tired hue to her blue eyes and tiny shoulders that try hard to stand tall. At ten years old, I'm already as tall as her.

It makes sense. My daddy, the man who has raised me since I came out of my mama, isn't that tall. All of my brothers aren't that tall. I tower over my two younger brothers and fourteen year old sister, and I'm the same height as my sixteen year old sister.

The Clydesdale of a man that says he's my father is probably the reason. He's probably why I have light eyes and a lighter complexion than my siblings. He's probably why I have curly brown hair while all my siblings have straight, black hair.

My daddy can't look at me without walking away now. Ella and Cassie, my sisters, have taken to calling me a bastard and a mistake. Floyd and Dean, my older brothers, talk shit about the Clydesdale man, but disappear when he comes to see me. Mama practically shoves me out the door, as if she's happy to pawn me off on him.

I guess I don't really blame her. Daddy and her argue plenty now. There are a lot of cuss words and accusations, sometimes banging on the wall. Why didn't you just f—king tell me?! Only Sammy and Leo don't treat me any different, that is, until someone else comes around.

We're all confused around here. Who I am puzzles me. With daddy and mama, I'm Mo. I spend hours at the park, running on top of monkey bars and flying across gliders. The neighbours snitch on me for playing ding dong ditch. Leo, Sammy, and I race to pick up all the beer bottles for money.

With the Clydesdale man, I'm Desmond. I play in the mud and collect rocks. I gaze at stars and watch clouds float across the sky, changing shape and colour. Those are bad habits because my new daddy has a lot of chores for me to do. Driving tractors, hauling wood, mucking stalls are all some of the stuff I've had to do on his farm. The tall, gruff man often yells at me to get my head out of the clouds. It's not my fault I don't have anyone to play with there.

There is Jo Dee, but she is only six. Too slow, too whiny, too girly. I guess she's my younger sister. It's a little weird. I've never had a younger sister before. Still, she's as bossy as Ella and Cassie are.

Then, there are Sawyer and Logan, my two older brothers. They are as mean and unfriendly as Floyd and Dean have become. Their dad, I guess he's my dad too, made me with my mom, not their mom, and that gave them the right to hate me with a passion.

So, who's my daddy?

The Clydesdale man, who is apparently my father, knocks on my mama's duplex door. He steps back, clasps his hands behind his back, and stares impassively at the door. I mimic him, stuffing my chest out and stiffening my spine to appear taller. He doesn't even glance at me. This is my home, even though he takes me away from it sometimes.

Why do I have to knock to go in? This is one of the houses I grew up in! Why doesn't he bring his wife and his other kids to meet my other siblings? That would be so cool, to have all of them together. I just don't think they like each other. Why does he call this place dirty and despicable? His house doesn't look like this, but his barns and sheds are a little worse for wear.

The walls were stained before we got this house. Mama has painted and cleaned and scrubbed to no use. The windows were already broken. They're trying to save up to replace them. Tinfoil and newspaper don't look that bad. Doors didn't exist until daddy hung curtains up. The rug was sticky and hard until daddy ripped it out and put plank down.

The front door creaks open and mama stands there, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed at my new daddy. "Why don't you keep him already?" Mama hisses angrily.

The smile gracing my lips falls at her harsh words. Every time I come back, it's the same. Keep him, you selfish POS. She hates me when I first come home, but by the time I have to leave again, she is crying and wailing about missing her baby.

"I'm not ruining my chance of keeping him permanently." The tall, gruff man states, his voice hard. He lets a menacing smirk light up his face before he returns to the stoic expression he usually has.

"Hi, mama!" I wave excitedly, a large smile worming its way across my lips. She grabs my shoulder, making me wince in pain, and tugs me inside. The door slams right after I am in the house, scraping against the heel of my foot. "Ow!"

"Go to your room!" Mama orders. She stomps to the kitchen, refusing to look at me. My face falls again and my heart seems to crack. It's the same reaction, yet every time, I hope she'll be happy to see me.

It's not my room. It's me and my brothers' room. All five of us share the small bedroom and six dresser drawer. A triple bunk bed takes up most of the room, Dean and Floyd get the top and middle level. Leo and Sammy share the bottom one. I get a foldable cot they shove into a corner to make more space in the small room.

Leo and Sammy aren't here, probably playing in the park. I want to be there, but since my new daddy came into my life, I'm barely let out of the house. The girls are visiting in their room, the door (a row of purple curtains) shut to keep us out. Floyd and Dean, nineteen and seventeen years old, are out around the town.