They called me "Lil' Billy"...because I was named after my dad, Billy Sr. From what I've learned, I was generally a pleasant baby. My earliest memories were very happy and loving. I remember watching soap operas with my mom. We would also lay in her room and listen to good music like Al Green. I would roll around in my diaper clapping my hands to the music (this is a memory my A-mother (adopted mother) would remind me of often). It was all hugs and kisses, games and music.
As I got older, and my A-mother's health got worse, things were more...unpleasent. I got yelled at for doing stupid things. I got screamed at for mistakes. A shout if I was too loud. Blood curdling call of my name for being too quiet. I was spanked for dropping a glass by accident. I was whipped for lying. The only time I think she felt bad was when her ring once caught my fingernail. Hitting me with her wooden walking stick or fly-swatter was okay, though.
A-daddy (adopted dad) was gone a lot, due to work. When he was home, he was quiet and passive. Once after an argument with A-mother, I asked him if he knew she was wrong, why didn't he say anything. In his calm and slightly sad voice, he said "It's just easier to let it go."
Little did I know that my mom, the woman who I thought was just being mean, was holding the world on her shoulders. She spent twelve or more years holding back a secret, several years in fear. She had to deal with knowing that I was adopted, losing custody of my older brother, and learning that the woman that had given her two sons had been murdered. I didn't know how strong she was. Her health declined, our finances declined, and she still held our family together.
Here is how I remember it:
That summer...no...THAT summer...started off unlike any other. I didn't ask my mom for much, because it was futile and stressful to do so. But this Sunday, like most Sundays...I got up and got ready for church. My church was about 4 blocks away, so I always walked. In these ugly-ass grey slacks, and a grey short-sleeved shirt (would have made the 90's proud), I walked into my mom's bedroom and asked her if I could leave for church early. She yelled at me, knowing I just wanted to spend time at my cousin's house (which was across the street from the church). Reluctantly, she said "Go on, but don't ask again!" I bolted out the door. This was Fate's timing, you have no idea. As SOON as I stepped onto the porch, a little truck stopped in front of my house...TIMING.
As I walked toward the street, my shy inner voice said "Oh, great...It's somebody needing directions." But I was nicer than I was shy, so I walked up to the young man that got out of the passenger's side. He started in with the relentless questions; "What's your name?" "Is this your house?" "Are your parent's inside?" I kept thinking that he and the blond girl in the driver's seat were going to rob my house.
But then he looked back at her and said "I think it's him." I was starting to get even more uncomfortable. He asked if I had any brothers. I said "Yes, one. His name is Willie."
"That's the only brother? You don't have another one?" I shook my head. He asked another question or two.
I sort of paused. Some higher power (had to be), put an old thought into my 15 year-old mind. This little boy who lived with us when I was 2, then disappeared. I asked about him once or twice and was told his parents just let him live with us. As far as I knew, his parents came and picked him up. "There was this little boy that used to live with us, but his dad came to get him."
He asked what the boy's name was.
I sort of got happy and excited to see an old..."friend." "I only remember what I called him. Jo-Jo. Is that you?"
He said yes. I think I extended a hand or something.
"Wow, I can't believe it! How have you been?"
"Good." He said it with a smile, but in a way that should have told me there was more. "Is that all you remember?"
"Yeah."
There was an awkward silence...or maybe he took a deep breath...or maybe he just farted...hell, I don't know. Things start getting sketchy here. This was the moment just before I felt like I was going to black out.
"I don't know how to tell you this...I'm your brother."
I vacated...not physically...mentally. You've heard of out-of-body experiences. I was stunned...no that's not a big enough word...Shocked?...no...I was sur-stun-ocked! "What?" was really all I could say.
"I'm your brother...And you know that those people in there that raised you aren't your real parents, right?"
Ummmm...yeah....
(to be continued)
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