Two Name

2

I'm a shadow now.

Daddy shakes his head when he sees me, and turns his back. I'm not his son anymore, even if he spent the past ten years raising me. It brings stinging tears to my eyes and an ache in my throat.

Mama has a tendency to throw things at me now. Plates, cups, books, shoes. Whatever she can get her hands on, really. Now that everyone knows the Clydesdale man is my father, she hates me with tenacity.

It breaks my heart, shreds it to pieces. I feel every tendril fraying at every beat of my heart, every pulse pounds through my skin. It's like flying ants are crawling through my veins.

When she hurts me and screams, it feels like I can't breathe. It makes me so confused. What's the big deal? I've never felt smaller and stupider.

Floyd and Dean ignore me. I guess that is sort of usual. But now, it's palpable. I can see it in their eyes when they look at me. They see the boy that only comes from their mama, and how upsetting it is to their daddy.

Cassie and Ella say mean things. Daddy-that-isn't-my-daddy won't defend me, but he yells at them to shut up. I don't blame him. Even if their words aren't hurtful, their voices sure are. And, it's like they can never stop talking.

Sammy and Leo avoid me whenever anyone else is around. But, in private, they still play marbles and tag. Our camaraderie is gone, though. We used to tease and taunt each other but now they talk amongst themselves and slap a hand over their mouths when they accidentally say something to me.

Daddy is at work. He doesn't make much as the garbage truck driver, and he often smells horrible when he comes home. He's always complaining about people overloading their garbage bins. He let me ride with him one time. I thought it was pretty cool sitting so high up, feeling the engine rumbling under my feet.

Used to be, I'd be running around outside. Maybe with some schoolmates. Now, I sit on my bedroom floor, bored out of my mind until I make up a song to the beat of the aggressive way mama cooks supper.

Two name, I go by
My mama, she lie
My eyes stay dry,
Even though I cry

Who my daddy?
That strange man, he
Ain't that crappy
His wife, she

Makes him and me
Real good beef patties
Good food make me
Really happy

New fam is shy
Daddy just sigh
Clydesdale man sly
Mama, she cut ties

Look in my eye
Please, just try
Don't make me pry
I wanna know why

Before I die
I'm gonna be scrappy
If you act sappy
You can be yappy

Anyone ask me
Mama can't see
The fact that she
Chose to have me

My name is Mo
I just wanna know
My name is Des
I must confess

I got stress
It's my guess
My daddy ain't know
My dad John Doe

Two name, I go by
My mama, she lie
My eyes stay dry,
Even though I cry

Anyone ask me
Mama can't see
The fact that she
Chose to have me

"Mo!" Mama hollers, a pot thumping on the counter punctuating her calling me. I scramble up off the floor, wiping at my eyes to dry any tears. Like in the song, my eyes are dry but I had felt them well up with tears. I hope they aren't red lined from stress. She'll accuse me of getting high again. Apparently, my new daddy teaches me bad habits.

I wanted to tell her that that isn't true, but I kept my mouth shut. It's one of the Clydesdale's mans rules: no talking back, speak when spoken to. Work hard. Eat all the food on your plate. Make your bed every morning. Thank his wife for the good food.

I've never eaten so many potatoes that weren't in fry form before. Everything at mama's house comes out of a box or a bag, and often makes my teeth a little yellow. At my new daddy's house, there are vegetables (which actually aren't too bad) and lots of meat and the best yet, dessert every evening.

"Mo!" Mama screams at me. I lift my hands up to cover my head, waiting for a spatula to slap against my skin. "Get your head outta your ass and go get your brothers!"

I take off before she says another word. The more I wait, the more she yells at me. She always yelled before, but since my new daddy started showing up, she screams and hits. Only once I'm down a block from the house do I slow down.

Leo and Sammy are playing at the park with a bunch of our friends. Everyone is scrambling to run away from the tagger, squealing and laughing. I want to join in on the fun but now that the truth has hit the streets, they don't talk to me. They are loyal to their dads, who are friends with my daddy — I mean, the man who raised me.

"Hey, look! It's the bastard!" One boy yells. I grind my teeth really hard to concentrate on not letting the tears out. He used to be my best friend. His dad is best friends with my old dad. I'd called him my uncle and his son my cousin.

"Leo! Sammy! Mama wants you home!" I turn on my heel and run. This is something else they do now: get me in trouble by being late and telling mama they didn't see me or hear me. They'd live at the park if they could.

My new daddy gave me a scrap piece of paper with his phone number written on it. The paper came from an envelope that was ripped open. I pull it out of my pocket and stare at the blue inked numbers on the white paper. He said I could call anytime, rain or shine, but he also tells me to cut the waterworks and be a man.

So, I stuff it back in my pocket and shuffle to my home. My hood is on and my head hunched down. The crackheads want money but I don't give them any. They could go pick up all the drunks' bottles if they're that desperate.