The book presents Mr. Thomas’ story only up to a certain point in his life. He continues to be a person of inspiration to many across the nation. I thank and congratulate him for this contribution via this book, and expect much more from him in the future. As it has been said- “To whom much is given, much is required”. To Mr. Thomas (Eric), much has been given and experienced, and thus it is required of you to share with us and to continue to walk in integrity.
Lee N. June, Ph.D.
Professor
Michigan State University
Formerly Served as Vice President for Student Affairs and Services and Associate Provost for Academic Student Services and Multicultural Issues.
August 2011
SECTION
I
THE STRUGGLE
CHAPTER
1
Boiling Point
“Anger is a wind which blows out the lamp of the mind.”
Robert Green Ingersoll
“I hate you!” I wish I could take back the words I said to her that day, but I couldn’t. I swear it was not premeditated. If I could only turn back the hands of time, I would have done it differently. I should have sat her down years ago and just talked it out. I should have gotten it out of my system instead of being so secretive about it. I should have told her the day it happened that I felt betrayed and angry, and that I felt as though I couldn’t trust her anymore. Why didn’t I just tell her? Well, it’s too late; I have gone too far. I can’t go back and change things now. It is what it is!
<<Ring…ring…ring>>. “Hello…hello,” I said as I rolled over in the bed reaching for the phone.
“What you still doing in the bed?” Melvin said in a surprised tone.
“What? It’s Sunday, it’s cold, football season is over, and I have the house to myself. Unless you know something I don’t, I don’t see a reason to get outta bed! The question is, why are you calling my house so early? Don’t you got a girl yet?”, I asked jokingly as I readjusted the covers.
“I’m lifting weights and I need someone to spot me,” Melvin replied.
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place? Give me thirty. I need to hop in the shower real quick and throw some gear on.” I jumped out of the bed, grabbed a pair of all red Lathrup High jogging pants, my red Lathrup hoodie, a pair of socks, a white t-shirt, my underwear, and headed for the bathroom.
Suddenly, I heard a noise coming from downstairs. It sounded like someone opening the garage door, but that was impossible. My parents were in Chicago visiting my aunt Wanda. Then I heard loud footsteps moving toward the living room. My heart was pounding so loud I was afraid the intruder could hear it. My adrenaline started to kick in and I tiptoed back into my room, grabbed my baseball bat from under my bed, and headed toward the stairs. With the bat tightly clinched in both hands, I gently walked down each stair trying desperately not to make a sound. As I approached the last step, I turned my body toward the direction where I heard the sound and out of the corner of my eye I saw a large male frame standing in the living room area. I walked slowly toward the figure with the bat at my side, ready to swing and bring whoever it was to the ground. I bent down trying to stay low when suddenly, the image became clear. It was my father. But that could not be, he was supposed to be in Chicago with my mother. I stopped dead in my tracks, did an about face, and ran back up the stairs. With each step my heart pounded harder and harder. Once I made it to the top of the stairs I shot into my room, grabbed the phone and called Melvin back. “Dog, you’re not going to believe this my father’s at the crib!” “I thought you said they were in Chicago,” Melvin asked. “I thought they were too, but apparently he’s not. I think he’s been here the entire weekend.” “Alright, calm down, just calm down, whatever you do don’t panic, just act normal. He probably doesn’t even know,” Melvin whispered. “You right, I put all the beer bottles in the garbage, put everything back like I found it and I cleaned the house pretty good. You’re right, I’m trippin, he didn’t notice. We did trash all the bottles and clean the grill, right?” Melvin was quiet.
Once I got off the phone with Melvin I quickly hopped in the shower. When I got out I threw on my jogging pants and hoodie, headed down the stairs and out the door. I was half way out of the door when suddenly I heard him call my name. “Eric, do you know what your mother did with the steak?” “What steak?” I replied without hesitation. I headed toward the kitchen trying to keep a straight face. I kept thinking about what Melvin said, “Stay calm and act like nothing happened.” “Are you sure you have no idea what your mother did with the steak?” “Yes sir, she didn’t mention anything to me about no steak.” “All right,” he said. “I’m about to go over Melvin’s for a while.” I walked out of the door slowly as to suggest everything was normal, but I knew if they found out I threw a party at the house and barbequed the steak, I was a dead man walking. I had a feeling my father didn’t buy my story and as soon as my mom got home from Chicago he was going to check with her to find out what really happened. If they put all the pieces together, I was going to have to get out of the house before my father killed me.
“Stop being so paranoid. You know how mean your old dude is, if he thought for one second we had a party at the house last night, he would have murdered you by now,” Melvin said jokingly. “You haven’t said a word since you been here. For real E, you need to chill out. Tomorrow morning everything will be back to normal.” <<Ring… ring…>> “Hello, how are you?” Melvin’s mom said as she picked up the phone.
I got quiet and went to the stairwell so I could hear Mrs. Brown’s conversation. I can’t explain it, but somehow I just knew that it was my mother on the other end of the phone. My heart started racing again. It was early evening and that was around the time my mom generally made it in whenever she drove home from Chicago. Also, the tone in Melvin’s mother’s voice didn’t sound like she was speaking to a close friend.
“As a matter of fact they were together late last night,” she told the person on the other end. “Not a problem, have a good evening, I’ll talk to you soon.” “Eric, that was your mother, she wants you to come home.”
“I knew it! I knew it. I shouldn’t have listened to you. I knew I shouldn’t have thrown a party at the crib,” I said while pacing the floor. “We probably left all kind of evidence. Man, he is about to kill me. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to ya’ll fools.”
“Stop acting like a punk and calm down. You want me to go with you?”
Trying to impress Melvin, I lied, “Naw, I ain’t scared of that dude. Let me get my jacket. I’m good. I’ll call you if I need you.”
“You know I got your back,” Melvin said sincerely.
Even though I knew he had my back, I was not in the least bit comforted by his words. He didn’t have to face my father, I did. On the way home I cut through the neighbor’s yard taking my usual shortcut, but then backtracked and took the scenic route. It didn’t make a lot of sense to rush home for a butt whipping. As I walked toward the house I told myself, “Party or no party, right or wrong, he wasn’t going to put his hands on me again.” I was the only kid on the block still getting whippings in high school. I was 16 and still had to wear long-sleeved shirts to school to hide the bruises on my arm that I got from trying to protect myself from the belt. It actually looked worse than it felt. What hurt the most was the fact that my classmates would joke on me about it. When I walk in this house if any one of them says something about me getting a whipping, it’s on!