All in Love Is Fair: Missing Origin

By Rajah Smart

Not having a mother growing up stunted his view of what he is looking for in a woman. The element that makes this story is the emphasis it places on piece of mind, family, and friends. Our main character searches for that missing piece that makes life good, that missing piece of the puzzle. The main character loves his family, his friends, yet he has not loved someone intimately.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 7, 2004
• ISBN: 9781468513127

Rajah Smart

Rajah Smart, a graduate of Western Michigan University with a B.A. in Education, was raised in Flint, Michigan. As a child, he would always take trips in his mind to places, and dreams he had always had inside; one day dreaming of becoming a famous artist or writer. Before college, traveling and getting involved showed him many things which would enhance his imagination and make dreams a reality. After 5 years of teaching, writing has emerged as a calming force.  

Book preview

Chapter 1

The night is one of loneliness and sadness, covering the walls of our home. The thunder beats down like the bass of a big drum to create a somewhat eerie night.

Daddy, what’s wrong!

He doesn’t hear me, or he doesn’t want to hear me as he flees out the front door like an eagle swooping down on prey. My mind wonders if daddy and mommy have fought again. There is this feeling of discomfort and negativity as if they have fought again. Fear encompasses me, making things seem that I will lose my parents like the other kids in the neighborhood. I’m glad he doesn’t hit my mommy, like Mr. Johnson hits Mrs. Johnson next door. I should go upstairs and check on her to see if she needs me. CRASH! The thunder is beating harder and harder every minute. For some reason, climbing these stairs seems longer than usual, or is it simply I think too much? She is quiet, but I know she will want to see me. I’m her little helper. Mommy, I say in a soft voice, Are you okay?

Baby you shouldn’t be in here.

I just came to see if you needed my help, responding.

Come give me a hug.

Running to her, she hugged me with such strength and told me,

Go check on your sister.

Checking on the baby was fun. I was helping my mother, so anything that was done to help was fun. She has the prettiest little eyes; yet I should be sure not to disturb her though. She’s cranky when she wakes up. The baby was okay, so maybe mom needs me to do something else. It will be dinnertime in an hour, and maybe she needs some help cooking. CRASH! CRASH! I hope the baby doesn’t wake from all this noise. As my little legs climb to the top of the stairs, my mom’s door is closed. I’ll just crack it a little bit to see what, BOOM! Momma, Momma, MOMMA!

The same thought clouds my mind everyday. I play it back constantly, over and over until my head throbs. Could there have been something done to stop her? Why did she do it? Why did she leave us this way? I’m grown and moved on, but feelings of loneliness and discouragement tear away, like something is eating me up from the inside out. What is my problem? I have a good job and the things I wanted to do I’ve done. When driving home everyday, my mind is thinking the same thing over and over, my car passing the same homes, feeling as if I am driving into an abyss every single day. Often times, I glance at the homes and wonder if they have a home like mine, lonely and dark. It is sad when you know what is really eating you alive and you can’t do anything about it.

It is interesting to me how a person can be happy, but depressed at the same time. A person can grow accustomed to this type of existence. At least I can admit it to myself that I am such a person. Living inside my mind and thoughts, instead of reality, pretty much guides me thorough my days and nights. As the car gets closer and closer to my home, my feelings deepen, thinking of what awaits me beyond the doors. The neighborhood itself is wonderful, and rich in family values. It is summer, so the children are in full swing, enjoying the atmosphere that their parents have provided for them. On television, we used to watch these shows that represented neighborhoods such as this, and I can remember always wanting to raise my family in the same type of area. At this point, there is no family arising in the midst of my chaos and worries. When thinking of my home, home is a place where there is no love, no feeling, and definitely no respect.

Arriving at my home is always an adventure, actually pulling up into the driveway. There is this neighbor right next door who is extremely eccentric. He is called Mr. Kalim Abdul, formerly known as Harry Jenkins. Often times, he is outside on the front porch talking with someone, but most of the time, no one is there while he is talking. The gossip is that he fought in Vietnam, and he has never been right since the war. He is a very loud and rude, as he runs off his porch to greet me at my car, like he does every evening.

Hey neighbor,

He screams very loudly from the other side of the fence, How’s it goin’ young buck?

Kalim had this thing for calling me a young buck. He was kind of the stereotypical loud, barbecue on the front porch during the summer and winter, country, southern black male.

I would invite ya in for some eats, but I’m havin some work done on mu kitchen.

He tells me the same thing every day. Although he is quite weird, I have always wanted to enter his home, not because of the food, but to see his wife. In the two years living here, no one has ever seen or heard that woman. People say that she does exist, and some say she is an imaginary vision in his mind. Personally, I would not doubt it, but curiosity is still there. Sometimes, there is a silhouette in the window, but it is very faint. I’ve eaten there before, but we ate on the porch because he was having some work done on the living room. This is the only man in captivity that has some work being done every week, and there is no truck or anything in the driveway.

That is okay Mr. Abdul, I have a lot of work to do, but thank you anyway, I said very sincerely.

As I walk to my front door, I always glance up at the window to see if his wife is near. At the same time he watches me, as if he was still in the trenches. Although I joke about him, I have always had a profound respect for him as a person. The one thing about Kalim is that he stays consistent as a person amidst all the rumors and jokes.

I can remember when I was young how it felt to go to the grocery store with my parents. It would be a hot summer day and when you entered the store you were happy till you arrived in the produce area. It was cold and very uncomfortable, especially if you had on some shorts. The same feeling arises every time I open my front door and enter the place I call home.

Hello Sharon, I said in a calm sincere voice, even though I was upset to see my home was in a shambles as usual.

Did anyone call for me while I was at work?

She simply glared at me and said,

Do I look like an answering service? No, no one important called today for you. I had a hard day and you come in here asking me all these questions.

This goes on every day and I knew there would be no change today. I honestly cannot see where her day was bad. She does not have a job, she is here all day, and she basically receives everything that she wants.

I am sorry Sharon, I did not mean to badger you, I said sarcastically.

Is there anything to eat or should I have done the take out thing today also. I do not know why I said that to her, I knew it would make her angry. She just simply glared at me and lay back down on the couch. Walking up the stairs to my bedroom, I cannot help but think of how this marriage was wrong. We were both too young and stupid, and were married for the wrong reasons. Now we live in the same house, but sleep in two different rooms, living two different lives. Sometimes I want to go to her and apologize, but I do not think she would understand my intentions. There is no relationship between the two of us. We went from best friends, to lovers, to husband and wife, to mortal enemies. We knew we were not in love, but we went and got married anyway. There were so many laughs we used to have, the things we shared, and the moments we shared so vividly.

In high school, friends were not a strongpoint of mine. My life pretty much revolved around what my father had planned for me. We lived in a meager neighborhood, where everyone was happy. When you are poor, you can only be happy with what you have and the memories made. My father worked all the time, and we never really saw him except for the times he had off from work, and during discipline. Most of that time, he watched the football games on Sundays. I was very lonely and lacked supportive words and attention. My sister was a hand full, and being the older brother, days were spent watching and raising her, unless getting in trouble was on the agenda. For example, my life began behind, not knowing that one day reality hits, and you grow up. Children have many dreams, and aspirations. As a child, there was no difference in me. That all changed when my mother passed. Life was unfair, dealing me an unfair blow that would change my life forever. We were raised in a neighborhood that was primarily that of lower class, low income, single parent homes, however, my father worked hard, so we had enough. Most of my time was spent outside, with the other neighborhood kids. When kids are left alone, they do often times do things they are not supposed to do, which is the case of yours truly.

Often times my friends Percy and Shady are hanging out. One afternoon started like any other day. My friends and I sat up and talked. Shady’s father ran out on them when he and his brother were really small, so they did not know him at all. Shady could pretty much do whatever he wanted to do. Percy was not as lucky, his mom was like a pit bull that had just eaten large supplies of prunes. She always had this mean look on her face, as if she was going to take a bite out of you or something. We would often meet in this abandoned garage behind Mrs. Watkins backyard. We would talk about our dreams, and what we were going to be. We were only about eleven when we started roaming the neighborhood. There were so many things we learned in that garage, and some things I would rather try to forget. That afternoon would change us forever.

Do yaw want ta go ova to the school and play? Shady asked. Percy and I looked over at one another knowing that Percy has to go and ask his mom. The street lights would be coming on soon, so we had to check with our parents. Shady accused Percy of being a punk, so he decided to go, knowing he would be in trouble later. I guess the idea was who cares; we thought we were hard core. Upon walking up to the school, we all noticed about six or seven guys stomping some guy to the ground. We all thought it was exciting.

Come on man, let’s go! Shady says as he ran closer to see who was getting stomped. Percy and I ran with him because we were nosy, and we did not want Shady to think we were punks. We noticed that the one guy doing the most stomping was a cat named Chucky. Chucky was known for his gang activity in the neighborhood, and well know for being the leader of the most feared crew in that set. We looked upon them feeling the rush from the way they beat that boy to a pulp for setting foot in the wrong area. As we watched, we noticed one of the henchmen staring directly at us. Percy screams run! and before I knew it, we ran like hell, as if some dogs were chasing us. I hopped one fence, crossing Mr. Colonel’s yard, hopping another, running for dear life. As I ran, I turned to check on my boys, forgetting Percy took off like a bat, and was ahead of me. Shady was nowhere to be found. Something told me to turn around and find him. This was a decision that would change my life forever.

Peaking around the corner, Shady was on the ground being tossed by one of the bigger guys in the group. All I could think of is my father telling me not to be a punk. The stupid part of me took over, and I rushed them, knowing inside of me taking them down would be easy, but figuring out quickly that this was a dream. This boy was knocked to the ground, kicked by one of them, and hit by another, until Chucky commanded them to stop.

Hey lil man, you tough huh. For you to come back ova har to help yo boy, you eitha crazy o stupid.

I thought it was a trick question, so nothing came out of this mouth. Chucky gave them a hand jester and they began to walk away. Shady, and I pulled ourselves off the ground, and headed home. The funny thing is Shady looked at me totally different after that, and we became closer than ever before.

Who knew that day would start many days of all three of us getting into trouble. Percy and I were actually closer than me and Shady or Julius. No one called him Julius. We called him Shady because he kind of had an odor problem. Let’s just say his armpits were the cure for a stuffy nose. Anyway, Shady, Percy, and I thought that what happened to us was so cool that we would try to start our own gang in that little garage. In school, the other kids just looked at us as if we were idiots. We tried to be tough, getting into fights and things. The problem is that all three of us played this imaginary game in our minds. The game was that we were gang members from the Top Dawgs, as they were rightfully tagged, and that we were hard. When you begin living a dream in your mind, you often forget what is dream and what is reality. We started to change the way we acted, especially when we started to fight at the drop of a hat. Being kicked out of school consistently, as well as living in detention was common. We called ourselves building our reputations. It really hit home when we were at recess in school, and Chucky was there seeing his little sister on the playground. He saw us, and actually stopped us to talk to us. We were shocked, but at the same time geeked because the other kids were looking upon us like we were legit. He mentioned that he heard we were trying to be down, so we played the game due to the fact that every one was standing around. We could not say no. Little did we know that saying that would start something we could not stop.

The kids were starting to become scared of us. It was cool for a second, but it began to bother me. It did not hit me until Percy, and I were coming home from school. Four boys confronted us; who did not waste time trying to get something started. Fear rushed through my whole body, and Percy grabbed me by the arm as if I was going to protect him. We were immediately rushed, one hitting me in the back of the head, and one punching Percy dead in the face. As I hit the ground, so many things rushed into my head. My father standing over me saying, You did not even try. That thought resonated in my head until I jumped up and fought till swing no more was an afterthought. It was as if the both of us both reached down deep, and found something in us that we did not know was there. We took on four boys and broke even. Percy punched so hard, his knuckles bled, and we stood back to back fighting them off.

After that whole ordeal, we packed ourselves home. Once arriving home, my father was waiting for me at the side door, questioning what took me so long to get home, and why was I bleeding.

Boy, where in the hell you been? We have been sitting in here waiting on you and you walk up in here bloody. I am tired of going through this with you!

My father yanked me in and beat me to within an inch of my life. To make matters worse, he asked me if we had won the fight. The answer was yes, and he walked away, saying nothing

This so called tough guy was grounded and told that he could not leave the yard, as was Percy. We stayed next door to