CHAPTER VI

RETRIBUTION

Sleep did not come easy in Mr. Henry’s house. Most foster children who have lived in an abusive situation will attest to this statement. The events of the day had taken its toll on my tired, sore, and bruised body. Therefore, it wasn’t hard for me to fall into a deep sleep. Most children were changing out of their school clothes and preparing to go outside to play after their first day of school but not me. My little mind was in dreamland. I dreamed my usual dream. My mother, father, little brother, and I were happy living in a little white house with flowers and a white picket fence. Only this time, my father kicked Mr. Old White Man’s ass, Mr. Henry’s ass, and the Mack Hoods ass. He kicked so many asses he had to get the soles on his shoes replaced. But, it was all just a dream. When I woke up, I would still have the same problems.

Suddenly, I heard my name being called; I thought I was still dreaming. I felt a hand rubbing my head, soft and gently, while rubbing and massaging the side of my temple. I opened my eyes and saw my guardian angel, Mrs. Henry smiling at me.

“Hey, baby, how are you doing?” She asked. I jumped up from the bed and threw my arms around her neck and buried my face into the other side.

“Hey! Hey! What’s wrong baby?” Mrs. Henry said.

“He’s gone!” I screamed! “He’s gone!”

“Who’s gone?”

“My brother, he’s gone! They took him away and adopted him!”

“What did you say?” She pulled my face out of her neck. She looked at me with shock. “Henry!” She screamed. “Henry!” She screamed louder.

Mr. Henry stumbled into my room. “What? What’s wrong with you, woman?”

“Henry, what is this boy talking about? Where is his brother?” She demanded.

Mr. Henry just stood there with a look on his face beyond description. Mrs. Henry angrily pointed a finger at her husband. “I thought we were going to talk about when he was supposed to leave?” She said. “Who made the decision for them to come and pick him up? I thought we agreed not to make a decision until after his birthday.”

Mr. Henry just stood there with his head down.

“You bastard!” She shrieked. “You no good lying, cheating, drunken bastard! All I ever asked of you was to let me have children in the house. It’s your fault you black bastard that I can’t have children, or have you forgotten you fucker? Look! Look at me, you sorry son of a bitch!” Mrs. Henry pulled up her blouse to reveal a long scar.

“You see this! This is because of you! I lost my only child because of you! You and your damn whores! You see what you did to me? You look, you motherfucker. My baby died, and I almost died too because of you. I was a good wife, but you weren’t a good husband! I stayed with you, and Lord only knows why! Now you’re gonna to take another one of my babies from me? Nigga, you must be crazy to think I’m going to sit back and let you fuck over me again!” Throughout the entire tirade Mrs. Henry continued to hold me close to her side. With her hand on my right shoulder, she nervously rubbed my shoulder and back. I let out a slight moan and pulled away from her. She looked down at me and then back to Mr. Henry. She pulled my shirt up and a look of horror came across her face, and then, I heard a scream. The next thing I knew, Mrs. Henry had a straight razor in her hand. The first swing caught Mr. Henry on his hand as he threw it up to block the blow aimed for his throat. The second blow sliced his leg as Mrs. Henry tried to cut his dick off.

Mrs. Henry swung the straight razor with the grace of a ballerina. It was obvious she had mastered its use previously. The third blow hit Mr. Henry on his right shoulder blade as he turned and tried to run out of the bedroom. My little heart was racing. I was scared, yet excited. Mr. Henry was finally going to get what he deserved. Then, it dawned on me if Mrs. Henry killed him what would happen to me? She’d go to jail, and I’d have to go to another foster home. Mr. Henry managed to grab a pillow off of the bed and was defending each blow with it. Feathers were flying all over the place and blood could be seen on some of them. Mrs. Henry had pushed me behind her and managed to keep the position between him and me throughout the entire fight. She had a look on her face that said somebody was going to die tonight. She fought like a mother bear protecting her cub. It was all happening so fast; Mrs. Henry wasn’t screaming or talking anymore. She was focused, determined, and committed to achieving her objective. I ran and grabbed her around her waist and hugged her tight.

“Please! Please!” I begged. “Please don’t kill him! I don’t want to go to another foster home!” I cried.

My words must have hit her like a ton of bricks because she stopped her next swing in mid air. I held on to her for dear life with my face pressed against the warm flesh of her stomach. I could feel the scar against my face. She was breathing hard, but in a controlled manner, and then she spoke.

“You listen, and you listen well, Mr. Henry,” she said, “just because I’m not in the streets anymore don’t mean the streets ain’t still in me. If you ever put your hands on this child again, I’ll cut you from your asshole to your appetite. Do you understand?”

Mr. Henry shook his head rapidly behind the pillow.

“And if I were you,” she continued, “I’d sleep with one eye open, one hand on my dick, and the other hand on the bible because if I even dream about you touching me or this child it’s going to be sad singing, flower bringing, a whole lot of crying, and casket buying. You hear me Mr. Henry?”

Mr. Henry continued to breathe hard and shake his head. Then, Mrs. Henry turned to me.

“Are you hungry?” She said calmly. “And, how was your first day of school?”

“Mrs. Henry, gal, are you alright in here? What’s all that commotion going on?” It was Ms. Bernice from next door. Ms. Bernice stood at the bottom of the steps yelling upstairs. Just as she began to yell again, Mr. Henry came running down the steps bleeding all over the place.

“Oh my Lord!” Ms. Bernice exclaimed. “Gal, what you done gone and did? You done cut Mr. Henry something bad.”

Mrs. Henry responded, “It ain’t nothing but a few scratches; he done got worst out there in them streets.” I was still holding on to her as we walked down the steps.

“Mrs. Henry, you know that ain’t no way for a God fearing woman to be acting.” Ms. Bernice scolded. “You done almost killed that man.”

“It doesn’t matter, she replied, he killed me a long time ago.”

“Hush, child,” Ms. Bernice said softly, “Don’t go talking like that in front of this child.”

“Why? He done tried to kill him too.”

I could see that a crowd was beginning to gather outside in front of our house.

“Nosey ass neighbors,” Ms. Bernice mumbled under her breath. Mr. Henry had wrapped his bloody hand in a t-shirt, put on his work jacket, and ran out the door. The word throughout the neighborhood was that somebody tried to rob Mr. Henry, and he fought back and got cut up pretty bad. At least that’s the story that was told to the police who came to the house and the white folks in the emergency room at Receiving Hospital, but I knew different.

That night Mrs. Henry made me the best hobo steak sandwich (bologna) with cheese and mayo, French fries, and a Faygo fruit punch pop. After feeding me, she ran me a warm bath with Epsom salt in it. As she bathed me, she asked me to forgive her for bringing me into such a wretched home. Her eyes began to swell with tears as she tenderly rubbed each welt on my little body. Then, she put her hand on my forehead and began to pray.

“God, bless this child and keep him safe and protect him from all future harm,” she said. “For it’s Only by Grace that he’s going to make it in this world…Amen.”

Something inside of me told me that everything was going to be alright. I didn’t tell her about the rest of my day. After I saw what she did to Mr. Henry, I didn’t know what she might do, but I did know I didn’t want to go to school the next day.

Mr. Henry didn’t come home that night. It wasn’t uncommon for him to stay out all night long, but that was usually on the weekends. I looked forward to the nights he didn’t come home. I slept really well on those nights. Today was a weekday, and I knew I would sleep well. I slept really well, but the morning brought a new fear, the fear of going to school.