Confusion is crippling.
I'm in my new daddy's tractor. He's showing me how to rake. It's Sawyer and Logan's job usually, but his wife has them in a summer camp this week that I am here. It's just me and my new daddy. She went to cook for all the campers, and Jo Dee was sent to my new grandparents while she is away.
Blood makes me related to this tall man. But all my memories have mama's husband as my daddy. It's so confusing. New daddy treats me better, but old daddy treats me better than mama. Neither of them say they love me like mama does.
I see new daddy and his wife having a drink every now and then, but they don't go wild like mama and daddy do. They work hard, too. I never see them laying on the couch or sitting idly with beer in their hands and joints between their fingers.
"Get your head outta the clouds, Junior." The Clydesdale man smiles and laughs. He ruffles my hair with his large hand, pushing my head around slightly. I beam at him, a sheepish look on my face and turn to look at the way his feet work the clutch and gas pedals, and his left hand steers while his right hand presses some nozzles or buttons or whatever he said they were.
It hasn't been just us two before and I'm loving every second of it. He heats up what his wife froze for us for the week, so we're still eating like kings. My new daddy even tucks me in at night after we visit about this or that, mainly me talking and him listening. But the smile on his face can't shut me up. No one has ever smiled at me like that.
The best part, though, is when he calls me Junior. I can't explain how gooey and mushy it makes my heart feel to have someone be proud of me, who wants me to be like them in all the good ways. Around mama's family, I'm just plain ole Mo. Around his family, I'm Desmond.
"Come sit down, Junior." My new daddy motions to his lap. The saliva in my throat dries as I look at him with wide eyes. He's too busy clutching down and lifting the rake to notice. I gulp, feeling a canker sore suddenly appear on the roof of my mouth, and sit on the edge of his knee.
"Watch my feet," new daddy says. His usually hard voice has a soft tinge to it. I duck my head and look at the way his feet seem to dance on the pedals, urging us forward in the loud machine. He grips my wrists and slaps one on the steering wheel, the other on the levers controlling the hydraulics to the rake.
"Up." He moves my hand forward, then backwards. "Down."
I repeat what he did, smiling at the fact that I'm controlling the big tractor. I watch out the window, looking at the rake tines lifting up and down.
"Left foot clutch, right foot gas and brake." He informs me. This time, when he shifts gears, he moves slowly so I can understand the movement. The less pressure I put on the clutch, the more I put on the gas.
My driving is jerky, and we often stall. The first few times my new daddy laughs and ruffles my hair. By the fifth time, he warns me to quit fooling around because it is expensive machinery. That's when I can finally drive forward with both feet, steer with my left hand and move levers with my right hand. It tires my brain out, controlling each limb separately, but it is the best I've ever felt.
"You're doing me proud, Junior." New daddy ruffles my hair. Surprisingly, his voice is hoarse and tears he won't let fall well in his eyes. He pulls me in for a hug. "I love you, son. I'm sorry I didn't know about you sooner and I promise you I'm gonna do my best to keep you."
"I love you, too... dad." I dig my nose into his chest, rubbing at the tears that leak out of my eyes. He is still a stranger I have to get to know, but being around him is the most whole I've ever felt.
"Another warm day like today and we'll be baling in no time." He says, clearing his throat. I take the hint to dry my tears and move back to sitting on the wheel well. "Always look at the weather, Junior. It tells you in advance what to expect. You can smell rain coming, even if there aren't any clouds in sight."
I tap the beat to the song I made up at mamas, bopping my head and humming. Daddy tunes me out as he listens to the revving of the tractor motor and the occasionally squeal of the hydraulics. It's a bumpy ride and I hold on to a bar going across the door for stability, watching swathes of alfalfa disappear under us. We pass two rows, and when I look back, into the dust covered field, one bigger row is behind us.
"What you singing, Junior?" Daddy asks. My face heats up in embarrassment and I duck away from him, hunching my shoulders in.
My hair used to be long, flowing down my back in dark brown auburn curls, but he chopped it off. My head doesn't itch as much, and those big black bugs crawling through it have disappeared. I hated being bald, but I'm glad the lice are gone. Now, they check through my inch long hair before they let me in the house.
"Desmond?" Daddy asks. It's a warning, a tougher prodding to tell him what's on my mind. A strange, strangling emotions claws at my heart. I lick my lips and clear my throat, unable to look at him.
"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."
Silence, save for the revving of the tractor, greets me. I hunch my shoulders deeper, swiping at a stupid stray teardrop. With a jolt, the tractor comes to a stop. A few clicks of the engine and blows of exhaust are the last trickling sounds until daddy jerks me into his chest.
YOU ARE READING
Two Name
Short Story"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."
