Living In My Father's Dream: Weep Me Not, aka The Tears of God
By Johnnie Renee Perez
African American - Street Fiction
Society believes that bad parenting causes the troubles of the inner cities. Fact is: there is no excuse for bad parenting when Mafia blood is raised in the hood. The only grandson of a Mafia drug lord ANTONIO “SHAWN” PEREZ, JR. wanted to be a drug dealer at the age of twelve, but his dad said no. Just to teach him that drugs are a killer, he made Shawn sit in a country chair and watch him OD on heroin. Twenty-one years later, and mentally sick, all Shawn wants now is to be free from the memories of his dad’s death, and for his grandfather to stay out of his life. Little did Shawn know that the day he sat to watch his dad die, his grandfather saw his strength and wanted him as the family’s hitman. But Shawn knows his grandfather supplied his dad with the drug he needed to OD, and refuses to be a hitman for him, or allow him visits with his niece.
Determined to get what he wants, Shawn grandfather has his niece (which everyone in the family knows is Shawn’s biological child) kidnapped by the man they want dead.
Now mentally sick, angry, and dishearten, Shawn becomes the family’s one-time hitman. His Job: to kill a rising heroin dealer, the baddest drug dealer in the hood.
About the author:
Ms. Johnnie Renee is a first-time author of Street Life fiction, and a writer of children’s fictional books. She loves children, believes at-risk youth can be mentored to make better choices in life. And she is an advocate for senseless pain in a mother’s heart.
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He knew she was standing behind him. He looked away from the wings of the plane to the dew drops on the windowpane, and there he saw his fiancée’s gloomy reflection in the cold sheet of glass. He was not ready to turn back to her, but he did. Her misty eyes, perfectly glazed for the distress he felt, held his interest. He wondered why she did not smile. Her beam would have revealed the small dimples he last saw in her cheeks. He lowered his eyes to the dark, cherry lipstick she had carefully applied to her lips when they moved again.
“What’s wrong?” Karen asked.
“Nothing,” Shawn replied.
“What is it then?”
“What is what?”
“What is it that you often see when you look through a window?”
“Nothing,” Shawn said again, not wanting to bring further injury to her bleeding heart. To imagine the blood dripping to her feet, Shaw glanced down at her shoes.
“Please tell me what you see.”
Although his eyes were half-closed, he assumed they were visible to her. Yet, the forbidden smile on his face wasn’t. Therefore, he revealed his secrets to her. “I see my mom, days after my father died, still standing in the middle of the living room floor, gazing through the front door at the leaves fluttering in the old aspen tree.”
“Why is she gazing?”
“She sees something in the leaves.”
“What? What does she see?”
“Something is there in the leaves. Maybe she sees my dad’s spirit, or perhaps she saw my death.”
“If she does see your death, when you come back, will you make love to me?”
“Come back from where, Karen, from death?”
Her response was exactly what he expected. The way she trembled when she lifted her hand to examine her ring-less finger softened his heart. He saw how much she loved him, and understood that she was willing to wait the rest of her life for him, dead or alive. While she stared at her finger, he knew she was dreaming about loving him. Still, he turned away, back to the window, and watched the ramp roll up to the plane. Now he remembered the receiver in his hands and quickly acknowledged his presence to Maria. “I’m sorry. Are you still there?”
“Yes. I will always be here for you, as long as you need me. So will Karen. I know you feel her grief, because I do. You must know how hard it is for her to love a man with a broken heart, since you are that man.”
Shawn knew Maria was right. Nonetheless, he did not turn back to comfort Karen. He stared longingly at the empty plane, searching for passengers’ faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of one peering through the damp windows of the plane. But no faces were visible.
“Shawn?” Maria called. “Are you okay?”
Shawn looked over at the sun disappearing from the sky. “The sun will never rise again. I will never be okay. I will never stop seeing dad die. I’ll never be mentally free. How can I put that in the past? How can I choose between life and death? When day after day, I sit in the same white, country chair and watch my father die.”
“So, now you believe that frozen cargo flight is a sign that something else is about to happen?”
“I’m sure of it, Maria. I’m as sure of it as I am that the man I hate is still living. Every day that man breathes, something bad happens. The wind blows south instead of north. The rain never ends.” Shawn glanced again at the letters in his hands. He remembered why he was calling to speak with Maria. “How’s Victoria?”
Maria gradually lifted her left hand. When it reached her temple, she brushed a strand of hair back beyond the diamond stud in her ear. “Victoria?” she whispered to herself, as if she were the one bearing the omen. Maria lowered the receiver from her ear and peered through the front screen door at Victoria. She sat out on the damp grass with her back to her. Maria stared at the long, dark, curly hair sprawled down Victoria’s back. Maria then shifted her attention to the wide- eyed, bare-footed baby doll sitting by Victoria’s side. A cloth napkin rested on its lap, and a cup of green tea sat between its pink, stubby legs. Maria feared if the doll somehow moved . . .