Dark Sheep

I always considered myself the unwilling beneficiary of a generational curse. My mother was a habitual adulterer and my father was never above not being treated like he was ever above any of my mother’s less-than antics. He was simple and complacent and my mother was malicious and narcissistic. The mix was toxic and bread an involuntary toxicity within me as their offspring.

I’ve been homeless since I was eighteen. I haven’t had a social security card or birth certificate since I was nineteen. My old drag queen roommate, who promised to look after me, stole it so that he could commit fraudulent crime with my personal information.

My mother was fifteen years old when she gave birth to me. I was a physical mistake and I was born indebted for that mistake. Niether of my parents were inclined to take accountability for their ignorance or shortcomings. Instead, they made a deal with the devil to pollute my soul in exchange for the expected salvation of their own.

When I was an adolescent, I would take showers that were so hot my bronze skin would tint a slight scarlet red from the singe of the water’s heat. I was purging- washing away the voices in my head that murmured through my pores.

“ What’s wrong wit you? I’m signing you up for therapy.” My mother would say.

I was the wierd kid. I was the son that fathers hoped they never had to raise. I was the reminiscent seed that my mother, with all intent, wanted to deny. I was an outlander of a tribe I never even chose. I only ever wanted a reason to exist, because my own volition wasn’t enough.

Teenagers from other families gave me vision, but also clarity. I would see the power of a mother’s true love through experiences that were not my own. I would internalize the strength of an adept father through interactions with men who were not my father and I understood these examples as righteous examples of how things could be.

One person, specifically, gave me hope. He was strong and confident and loved and supported. He was everything I wanted to be. His name was Darrius and our alliance was cloudy and vague because it had to be.

The early morning summer hours were the times where our bond compounded. I would wake to a light tap on my window. The tap was always just light enough to not wake my parents but present enough for me to respond to the one person who wanted me around.

The suburbs were quaint and quiet, but diverse. The countryside backdrop was simple, yet, still, completely enthralling. I would crawl through my window to answer Darrius’s tap and the fresh, cool, damp country air offered, every morning, a chance for things to be different for the short time that was allotted to Darrius and I.

The company of eachother was engaging, even within silence. I would open the window and Darrius would hand me his lit marijuana cigarette. I never imagined smoking before I met Darrius, but his angst to help me escape my woes was evident.

“Man this gon’ help you chill.” He would say.

He wanted me happy and settled when I was with him and I wanted nothing else.

After many meetings, things were understood. Our cautionary sexuality and steaming adolescent hormones always smoldered, but we never forced inevitability. We would follow the makeshift path through my parent’s backyard and slide the broken plank on my parents fence to the left so that we could cross into the woods on the other side.

There was another makeshift path on the other side of my parent’s fence that lead through a thicket of trees . The path lead to a dilapidated barn that had been abandoned for years. Parts of its roof had caved into its withered infrastructure and forest overgrowth had begun to infiltrate most of the barn’s inner parts.

There were, ofcourse, no animals, except for the wild ones that roamed the woods around us and the occasional barn mouse that scurried through the left behind barn straw. The constant “hoot” of the barn owl nesting in the tree just outside a worn down wall, reminded us of the ungodly hour and why we only, occasionally, heard mice scurrying.

The main atrium of the barn was partially exposed to the woods and the moonlight that glared down through where the roof would be. Darius and I, would lay on a set of old picnic tables that were centered in the atrium and smoke and talk. The view allowed us a stunning and direct gaze into the moon. The moonlight inspired our moods and thrust our conversation down into an endless rabbit hole filled with discoveries about one another far beyond what we had been able to share with anyone else up until that point.

Darrius was under an immense and building pressure, because he had two older brothers who were, constantly, raising the bar on their inadvertent sibling rivalry. However smart his brothers were at his age, he had to be smarter. However accomplished his brothers were at his age, he had to accomplish more. However many pubescent relations his brothers had formed with the opposite sex by the time they were his age, he had to have more relations with better girls.

I felt as though I was under extreme pressure as well and Darrius agreed, but his pressure was different and offered a different type of substantial risk that I’ve never had to consider. The risk of losing family. He could easily sever the strong ties that bound him and his family if they knew where he was during the hours when barn owls cry out into the night.

I had no true family ties. I explained to Darrius that, after I, accidentally, told my father, at eight years old, that my mother had been taking me to another man’s house, I became my mother’s enemy. If I would’ve known the dynamics of such a secret, at eight years old, I never would have allowed myself to be involved with such an adult situation.

I told my father that I would play in the living room while mommy and Mr.Ronny went in the back room to play. My father was lazy but cunning. He was able to get me to remember exactly where Mr.Ronny lived and, at eight years old, I guided him as he drove.

My father went to jail for the first time in his life that night. It was the first time I saw that side of him- a violent, primitive side- feral even. His anger and the passion behind his actions was undeniable and harnessed. Ronny ended that night with a broken jaw. My parents stayed together.

That night changed my life forever and altered the dynamics of our family dichotomy indefinitely. My mother became bolder with her infidelities and my father diminished in his ability to play the offense, but, still, he couldn’t leave. My alliance switched from “mama’s boy” to “daddy’s reckoning “. Even at only eight, I endured the blame from my mother for betraying her confidence and trust. That blame would burden me and, over many years, that burden would manifest itself in various ways.

The relationship my father and I shared was also changed in the most peculiar of ways. To my father, I became the wedge that divided my mother and him. He began to believe I was the reason she didn’t love him anymore. I began to believe this too.

The night that my father met Mr.Ronny and I became “the snitch”, was also the night I was thrust into the label of “black sheep” of my family. I mentally dove into such a dark space that I began to think of myself as the “dark sheep”- worse than black. Something like nothing.

The summer weeks would breeze by as I poured out my soul to Darrius and, in the “in between” times, Darrius would graciously offer me parts of his soul as well. I offered an unbiased set of male ears that understood his perspective and didn’t judge him for what he really thought.

He was being trained as an alpha male. The men in his family were taught the techniques of womanizing. This was very different from what I was taught. My father couldn’t handle or keep the one woman he wanted. Darrius and his brothers were encouraged to juggle multiple women at a time.

Darrius wanted what I wanted- a reason to exist. We both agreed that one’s own willingness to survive was not enough of a driving force to make an individual want to live. We, both, believed you could survive without truly living.

Darrius explained that, though he wanted, so bad, to live in his truth, he couldn’t, because he felt the innate obligations to please his family. He survived for their approval. They were his support system and he wasn’t sure what life would be like without that support. I knew, all too well, and would have never wished such circumstances on him.

The summer bliss provided by our morning encounters continued for many weeks, until my bad fortune reared its inevitable ugly head. The last morning started like any other. I responded to the light tap on my window and Darrius greeted me with a marijuana cigarette. We slipped through the fence and trotted the path towards our sanctuary.

The familiar barn owl “hooted” at our arrival and directed our attention towards a star lit sky. We entered the barn and, amidst random conversation, sat, side by side, on the top of one of the picnic tables. In five weeks, Darrius would be leaving for Alabama A&M. He was on a full academic scholarship and had been bred for this moment his entire life.

Though he may have felt sexually cornered and frustrated, the, seemingly, more important parts of his life were, scrupulously, handled by his family. They, indeed, wanted what they thought was best for him and this was multitudes more than I could say about my family.

I would be graduating with a 3.7 grade point average, which, by most standards, qualified me for many types of scholarships, grants, and financial aide, but my parents would have never knew. I applied for The University of Alabama and had been accepted. I had already applied for and was awarded financial aide. I just needed a parent to sign off on it. I also entered a scholarship competition for writers and won a partial scholarship. School was paid for, but my parents knew none of this and hadn’t asked. I did everything on my own and had become accustomed to doing so. Darrius compared our situations in awe.

“So you just gonna wait til the last minute… ask them to sign the papers and then just leave?” He asked in a shocked tone with concern.

He sounded extremely surprised by the disconnect within my family, even though he had heard all my wild stories. The premise of me disappearing, suddenly, out of my parents lives wasn’t a shocker to me at all.

“ I mean… yeah. They’re gonna probably try to just put me out at the end of the summer anyway. I would just sign the papers myself but the parent has to be present for a meeting with the financial advisor.” I replied unbothered.

Darrius looked serious and helplessly concerned for me. It was alluring and charming and heightened my level of attraction for him.

“ You’re not scared… that you may need them… or need somebody?” He asked.

“ Honestly… I’ve been alone for as long as I can remember. So nah… I’m not scared. It feels like freedom. A different environment with new experiences. I’ll meet new people.” I replied

“ Would you ever come back? Will I see you again? Or you gonna be good with those new people?” Darrius countered with emotional intent.

For the first time all summer, I looked into Darrius’ eyes and saw his confidence fade just a little. I figured that our connection meant more to him than I knew and I realized that it meant more to me as well. Darrius slid his hand onto my knee and gripped it strong.

“Not to sound gay… but I like being with you.” He stated through a half smile.

When he said what he said and touched me the way he did, my body started to tremble lightly. I instantly became nervous and flustered and overwhelmed with feeling. I had never had such an expression directed towards me. Nobody had ever made me feel like they never wanted me to leave their company.

Darrius locked eyes with me and our trains of thought raced towards the same tunnel until, subconsciously, our lips touched. When our lips made contact, we both froze in the kiss. I was astounded by how comfortable I was with his lips on mine. The moment felt like a vision that I had dreamt before.

As we kissed, the the barn owl began to cry out with a series of “hoots” that echoed an alert across the dark sky and our immersive kiss was forced to a violent halt.

“ Zachary! What the hell are you doin?!”

My mother’s voice was a scary, loud, and unforgiving interruption. Darrius and I, instantly jumped off the table top and away from eachother’s contact. My mother pointed her finger at me and continued yelling.

“ I knew I heard something in the house. So you a fag?! I told yo daddy somethin’ wasn’t right with you.”

She redirected her attention towards Darrius. She had never met him, but her aggression was present all the same.

“ … and who are you? Yo parent’s know you out here kissin on’ boys?”

She didn’t give either of us time to respond, before she continued her verbal assault.

“ No wonder yo ass ain’t said nothin bout college or none of that… cause you out here kissin boys in the woods! That’s why you ain’t never never gonna get God’s blessings! Tried to tell yo daddy that you wasn’t right. Talkin bout you gonna grow out of it. Wait til he hear bout this”

Darrius was paralyzed with nervousness. I wanted him to, somehow, fade into the shadows of the barn so that he wouldn’t have to endure my mother’s wrath. I had been forged by her wrath- hardened like Teflon. He, on the contrary, was not prepared to see any mother act like mine.

My mother smeared a maniacal grin across her face.

“You need to get out my house. I don’t care where you go or what you do in them streets but you not bout to bring the devil into my house with all this gay stuff. Hell no! You wanna be gay… be gay in them streets.” She ranted.

I turned back to look at how Darrius was coping. He was gone. He had found the shadows, like I had hoped, and disappeared into the woods. His departure was so elusive that my mother didn’t even notice. I was, both, relieved and, deeply, saddened. My mother continued in a rant, but I only heard distorted mumbles as I imagined I would never see Darrius again.

That night, I saw the coward in my father as he buckled under the pressure of my mother’s tumultuous tantrums. She went on and on about how I had been sneaking out the house for weeks and experimenting with boys. She proclaimed I had been possessed by a sex demon and that I should be considered for excorcism. In the end, the premise was that my soul was cursed and that I was too corrupt to continue to live in their house. My father listened and complied in silence.

The culmination of my “dark sheep” status was realized after my mother’s encounter with Darrius and I and I was, essentially, emancipated from the family. My mother had given me one day to plan my exit. She didn’t care where I went. She didn’t care what happened to me. So, I disappeared.

I went to stay with a cousin that I barely talked to, but she was willing to let me stay with her because I was family and, in a nonchalant way, she empathized with me. Everything was spinning in my head. I only wanted to feel wanted again.

I was nostalgic over my innocent summer nights and the barn owl that serenaded those nights. I longed for a feeling similar to the vibrations that Darrius’ body released. So, I did what all millennials do when they’re searching for acceptance. I searched online.

My cousin had a whole life set up before I bombarded her space with my problems and I knew, through experience, that it wouldn’t be long before, she too, grew tired of my company. I searched through social media and discovered an application that was intended for down-low, gay, and bisexual men and I made a profile. I was hoping to find Darrius or someone like him. Instead, I was introduced to Jermaine. Jermaine sometimes preferred the name Jackee, but I wouldn’t find that out until many weeks after meeting him for the first time.

Jermaine sent me many messages, over the course of a few weeks, before I responded. He wasn’t what I was looking for and, certainly, nothing like Darrius. The reason for my decision to respond was not a sudden experience of attraction, but, rather, an offer made that was hard for me to refuse.

When I graduated from high school, I received almost two- thousand dollars in graduation money from various extended family members. In these moments, still, I wished I would have saved more of the money than I did. At the time my parents decided to no longer let me live in their house, I only had two-hundred and thirty-six dollars. This amount quickly began to dwindle within the first few days of me being on my own.

Jermaine was lonely and socially deprived and, borderline, desperate and the profile I posted online made him wish he could experience me in whatever capacity. A simple way I looked in a picture made him want to know me intimately and plutonic. He lusted for me, but I didn’t really know what that lust meant for me. I didn’t know the power I held over that lust.

The first time we met in person, I introduced myself to Jermaine as “Sheep”. I had decided to adopt the nickname as a way to represent starting over, but not, yet, being able to forget or forgive. Over the course of a few weeks, I began to find financial support through Jermaine. He would feed me at lavish restaurants and keep enough money in my pocket for me to survive day to day. He even activated an old cellphone of his and let me use it so that I could contact him easier. Eventually, my days were spent less and less at my cousin’s house and more and more at Jermaine’s. Then, he popped the question.

“ You wanna just move in with me?” Jermaine asked with the intent of a kid opening gifts on Christmas morning.

When he asked the question, I paused in a pensive stare and he continued.

“ … no rent or utilities… til you can get on your feet… just keep me company and I’ll help you find a job… and become independent…”

The offer was tantalizing and seemed like a lifting of weight off my shoulders, but there was also a peculiar glare in Jermaine’s eyes. The gaze made me feel a little uneasy. It was a gaze of hunger and thirst and of longing and manipulative intent. I felt and recognized the feelings. Still, I felt like I couldn’t refuse, so I didn’t.

“ Are you sure? I’m not tryna keep burdening people and you’ve been helping me out a lot as it is.” I asked with genuine concern.

I was content with dinner and hanging out with Jermaine and then returning to my own space, but Jermaine replied.

“ I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure. I want you as close around me as you’re willing to be for as long as you willing to stay.”

Jermaine’s sentiments were intended as gestures of endearment, but I didn’t receive them the way I had when Darrius relinquished the same sentiments towards me. Never the less, I decided to make the move.

The first few months were filled with things I had become accustomed to. We had great lunches and dinners and hung out. Jermaine would show me the city. On some nights, I wouldn’t see Jermaine at all. I would sit in his apartment alone and reminisce about the few good things about my life that I could remember.

One of the nights Jermaine was gone, he left his laptop at the house. He usually took it with him, but I assumed he was in a rush. I was ecstatic, because I had been wanting to access some websites that I couldn’t on the phone he gave me.

When I opened the computer, a flyer popped up on an edit page. The flyer had, what appeared to be, four women on it. This was at first glance. As I looked closer, I could see that the women were, actually, men impersonating women. I was intrigued in a rather indifferent way.

I examined the flyer more, in depth, and I realized it was an advertisement for a drag queen themed night at a club. I looked closer and was, only mildly, surprised to notice that one of the drag queens on the advertisement was, actually, Jermaine. Under his picture was a nameplate that read: Jackee. I didn’t feel any type of way about the fact that Jermaine dressed in drag, but I would have preferred to not know.

Jermaine left many tabs open on his computer and my curiosity was sensational. I began to click on the tabs and, as they opened, I, slowly, started to uncover the means behind Jermaine’s financial prowess. There were tabs upon tabs of credit card numbers with matching names and addresses. Some tabs contained social security numbers and pictures of random drivers’s licenses. None of the information was his own. Still, my naïveté reduced me to perceive the information on Jermaine’s computer as that of little value to me.

As the weeks went on, I never told Jermaine what I found on his computer. Still, things started changing. Jermaine started being more overtly sexual. He would, frequently, talk about his sexual escapades and ask about mine. He began taking his showers with the bathroom door open. He would even undress and walk around, for moments in time, completely nude.

When he would do these things, he would encourage me to do them as well, but I wasn’t comfortable. The pressure to be more open, sexually, grew in intensity as the weeks continued and I was beginning to understand the true intentions behind Jermaine’s motivations to assist me. He had been playing the long game and, truly, only wanted me, romantically, for the entire duration of our friendship. His main focus was never to help me become independent.

The combination of a lack of attraction, my integrity, and my pride kept me from giving into Jermaine’s sexual goading and Jermaine started to become, noticeably, irritable on a daily. The tension was high and, once again, I began to feel like the one sheep that stood out from the rest in the worst way.

Being asked to leave Jermaine’s house was complete deja vu and like a kick in the face while I was down in the dirt. I had woke up the night before to Jermaine attempting to perform oral sex on me. I felt violated. I had pushed him off. He was offended. Jermaine was so angry that he asked me to leave the following morning. I obliged.

I didn’t want to burden anyone else. I had no trust left in me, because every human I had known, until that point, had let me down. I had been saving the money that Jermaine had been giving me, so I caught a bus to the cheapest and closest hotel I could find. My situation was bleak and depressing, but I had hoped the hotel could represent a new beginning.

The hotel and property was dirty and neglected and it seemed to reflect my life as it was. My current situation confirmed, for me, that I was, most definitely, the unwilling beneficiary of a generational curse. I had not chosen this life or this lifestyle. Was I destined to be an emotional and physical prostitute for the remainder of my existence? It seemed that my simple choice to love who and how I wanted was a choice that had kept and would continue to keep the love of my parents from me and, now, the only type of life available to me was the life present in front of me currently- a dilapidated hotel room with minimal expectations.

I went through my belongings on the hotel room floor and realized my social security card and birth certificate were missing. I had no doubt over who had taken them. The phone Jermaine gave me was no longer activated. I wished that I could emplode into space and time and make it like I never existed.

I sat and prayed for an answer or an exit. The energy in the room was vibrating at a very low frequency and I felt like the “dark sheep” of life all over again. Then, I heard a knock at the hotel room door. The knock, genuinely, scared me because I wasn’t expecting anyone. Nobody was supposed to know where I was. Had Jermaine followed me? Was he here to apologize? Had Darrius, somehow, found me in this random hotel room tucked away in the crevices of our massive city?

My imagination shuffled around images in my head as I made my way towards the door. I removed the safety latch and turned the handle. My father let out an exasperated breath and pulled me in for an embrace like I had never felt before.

“ Zack! I found you.” He exclaimed.

I was breathless as well. I had many questions, but I was, also, completely, grateful for my father’s presence. It felt like a superhero moment without a doubt. My father and I held eachother tight.

“ Come home son… we need to talk. Just me and you…”

For the first time, in many months, I began to sob as I replied.

“ Okay.”