Breaking the Cycle

I was 13 when my old man and old lady split up. My mother lit out with some other guy to the city, and my old man was always trying to find her. He searched for her a bunch of times, and the last time I was in the city, he lost it and smashed everything up. Then he yanked my sisters out and told them, "Your mother's dead. Don't you ever mention her again. If you do, I'll kill ya."

That night, I was crying my eyes out in bed, hugging my little brother. My sister was sitting up in bed, and she asked me, "Bro, is Mom really dead?" And I told her, "No, she ain't dead. She's in the city. She'll be back."

And that night, my old man got loaded and bawled his eyes out. After that, he started hitin' the sauce every single night. He'd get so drunk, he'd just collapse on the floor, and there wasn't nothin' I could do to get him into bed. I'd throw a blanket over him and watch him sob. When he wasn't drinkin' at home, he'd go down to the market and get lit there. Nights like that, I'd turn on the lights and wait up for him. One time, he passed out in a tent at the market. That same year, I had to drop out of school, 'cause I had to take care of the laundry and cook for my old man and my little brother during the day. My old man worked all day, and when he came home at night, he'd scarf down dinner like there was no tomorrow. He barely ever talked to my sisters, and when he did, it was just a couple of words.

I was watchin' my old man drink one evenin', and I couldn't take it anymore. I yanked the bottle outta his hand and yelled, "C'mon, pops! You can't be drinkin' this stuff! It's killin' ya!" But my old man just stared at me, his finger pointed right at my nose, and said "You, you ruined my life! And now you're gonna tell me I can't have a drink?"

Next thing I know, he's up and grabbin' a broom, whackin' me with it while he's bawlin' his eyes out. I couldn't run, even though I wanted to. I just gritted my teeth and took it, knelt there on the floor. Late at night, when he passed out from all the drinkin', I sneaked around pickin' up all the broken bottles. It was a rough night.

That night, I had a dream about better days with my fam. Warm meals and my ma bringing grub for me and my bro. Then I dreamed that she came back from the city, with my old man picking her up at the outskirts. I saw her cryin' on his chest and I woke up. The house was dark, just my pop's snores breakin' the silence.

The next day, when I got home from work, my pop spotted the bruises on my arm and asked, "What the hell happened to your mitt?" I felt guilty, wanted to bawl and scream, "It's 'cause of you, Pop! You hit me!" But I saw the worry on his mug and instead, I told him I chopped some wood and a branch whacked me. "Be more careful next time," he said and went back to eatin' with his head down. That night, he started drinking again and I tucked my bro into bed. Once he was sound asleep, I cried into my pillow like a baby.

One day, my old lady, my mother, showed up while my old man was at work. Me and my sisters, we all hugged her and bawled our eyes out. I asked her when she was comin' back to live with us, but she said she wasn't comin' back. She was takin' us kids with her to the city to stay with her. My little brother asked what was gonna happen to my old man, and she said he was gonna stay here. Alone? I asked. She said he was gonna get hitched.

I didn't know what to say, so I just kept quiet. After a bit, I looked up at her and asked why she couldn't go home and live with my old man. She got real mad and said she couldn't be with him, that he'd kill her.

The mention of my old man sent shivers down my spine. All the nights of his drunk rages came flashing back. That day, my sis and I high-tailed it to the city, away from the old man and our mom. First night in the city, my bro was snoozin' like a baby, all tuckered out from the drive. But I couldn't sleep, thinkin' 'bout what the old man might do when he found out we ain't there when he gets home from work. And just when I finally dozed off, I had a nightmare where the old man was drunk and wailed on me with a broom. I screamed and woke up, and ma came out from her room, all worried, askin':

"How're you doin', son? Your father...did he hit you?"

I quickly replied, "Nah, ma, the old man didn't lay a hand on me."

Ma sighed and sat with me fer a bit, then she went into the other room with Pa. I could hear 'em talkin', with Pa askin', 'When we sendin' 'em back?' And Ma, she whispers, 'I beg ya, let 'em stay here. I want 'em to get an education.'

But Pa's all like, 'Nah, I don't need the kids. I need you, but not 'em.'

And Ma, she's beggin', 'I understand, I'll do more.'

And Pa's like, 'Look, if ya wanna stay with 'em, go to yer own place. I'll give ya a few more days with 'em, but then you gotta bring 'em back.'

"I heard Ma cryin' and I was bawlin' too. Spent a few days at my Ma's new hubby's place, didn't say much. Sis is still young, don't know nothin'. The guy was always playin' with his toys all day.

Then one day, Pa shows up. I holler at him, but he don't say nothin'. He just looks at Sis fer a long time, then asks, 'Where's yer Ma?'

Before I could answer, Ma comes down from upstairs. As soon as she sees Pa, she freezes.

'What ya doin' here?' Ma asks him.

'I'm takin' my kids home,' says Pa. 'They ain't your kids? You ain't fit to be their Ma.'

'Don't go sayin' who's fit or not,' Ma says back. 'Ask 'em who they want to be with. That's their right.'

Pa's face went pale all of a sudden. I could see him pantin' heavy. 'Come on? Who ya want to stay with? Ma or Pa? Speak up!'

Ma asks me and I lower my head, didn't dare look at 'em. I could hear Pa coughin' and in my mind, I see all them evenings with Pa passed out on the floor from drinkin'. And I hear Pa's voice in my head, 'What's the matter with your hand?’ I bit my lip to stop from cryin'. I look at my bro and ask, 'Who ya want to be with?'

'I wanna stay with you!' my bro says, steppin' back and hidin' behind me. Pa's lookin' at me expectant-like and Ma's givin' Pa the stink-eye. 'With whom, tell me?' Ma asks, cryin'. I look at Ma, 'Let us go home.'

Didn't get back to the city 'til late at night. When I reached the alley, my bro hollered, 'Here's my house!' The joint stunk of booze and mold. Spent the night cleanin' and fixin' up Pa's place 'til it was late. And Pa, he wasn't drunk that night.

My old man's biz was gettin' tougher by the day. His oxcart couldn't keep up with the rickshaws and wagons roammin' around the small town. Then, things took a turn for the worse. The oxen got sick and croaked, and my old man slipped back into his drunken stupor. When he was drunk, he'd cry and yell at ma. But every mornin', he'd still get up bright and early and beg to be a porter at the bus station on the edge of town. With only a couple trains comin' through each day, he had to do whatever it took to keep us fed.

At night, Pa gets drunk and beats Ma and me with a broomstick. I don't run away when he hits me. I just hold my head and take it. And then, come mornin', Pa's out the door to the bus station. And when he gets back, it's almost dusk. I cook Pa some grub and he takes a gander at my arm. 'What's the matter with your hand?' he asks again. I just shrug it off.

In the evening, my old man was sauced and he started giving my ma the business, then he took a broomstick to me. I stood there like a chump and took it, held my head steady for him to whack. Afterwards, he stumbled outta the house at dawn, headed to the bus station to be a lug. When the sun started setting, he stumbled back home. I cooked him some grub, and he eyeballed my arm, slurring: "What's wrong with ya mitt, huh?"

I used to spin lies like a top for my old man. Couldn't tell him 'bout the purple marks on my mitts he gave me with his beatings. But one day, he popped the question and I was too chicken to spill the truth, so I mumbled "John hit me." My old man, he slammed the rice bowl on the table and let out a yell "Why ya let John belt ya like that?! Who washes ya? Who cooks for ya? Who tucks ya in at beddy-bye?" My bro took the heat and started blubbering. I couldn't even shut-eye 'cause I could still hear his sobs ringing in my ears.

But one time, he whacked me with that broomstick so hard that my wrist swole up like a balloon. Couldn't hide it from him no more. Dinner time came and I couldn't even lift a spoon to stir my rice. My old man, he took one look at me and asked "What's the matter with your hand?" And that's when I just started bawlin' like a baby.

I was in a mess, I couldn't bear it: "Old man! I'm hurtin' like hell."

"What's the deal?" My father freaked out: "Who slammed ya? Who slammed ya?"

"Old man didn't slam me" – I bawled: "Old man didn't slam me."

"Who slammed?" My father yelled: "Gimme the name, I'll whack 'em to death.

When my old man said that, I cried like a baby. I cried not 'cause of the pain. I cried 'cause I felt sorry for myself. I cried 'cause of my old man's sad voice: "If you don't spill the beans, I'll beat it outta ya."

"Please, pops," I begged, "Don't hit me no more. Don't hit me no more."

My old man was shakin' like a leaf. My old man's peepers was red as a beet. Old man hugged me. My old man's warm huff and squeeze made me feel even worse. I blubbered and mumbled: "Every night when you're juiced, ya belt me with that broomstick. But I couldn't spill it 'cause I was scared you'd upset me more. Sorry, Pop, you keep belting me, but don't juice no more." I watched my old man shudder. And my old man cried. My old man's cry was like a "waa, waa" that stretched over my noggin' endlessly.

Early in the mornin', I woke up. The joint was still lit up. I spotted my old man sittin' still as a statue. I climbed outta bed and went to my old man. I hugged my old man's neck: "Did ya run outta hooch, Pop?"

My old man shook his noggin', he closed his peepers slow. Two tears welled up. "Don't be sad, Pop."

My old man spun around, holdin' me in his arms. I heard my old man whisper: "From now on, I ain't gonna be sad no more. With a kid like you, the old man'll never be sad again." I rubbed my peepers on my old man's chest. The night was warm and breezy. I found my old man closer and more trustworthy than ever.