It all happened so fast. I wasn’t quite sure where I was headed and to be honest it didn’t matter as long as I was getting the hell away from them. When I got to the end of the block, I kept straight and ran through the neighbor’s yard to Ivanhoe Lane. I wanted to make sure my father couldn’t trace my steps. I kept running until I no longer recognized where I was. After I passed a liquor store on 11 Mile and Lahser, I noticed an empty field behind the houses. As I got closer to the field I discovered that it was a small park. The park had a few pieces of playground equipment: a swing set, monkey bars, and a metal rippled slide all enclosed by sand. I sat down on the edge of the slide trying to catch my breath. Once I regained my composure, I walked over to the swing set and began swinging. I tried not to think about the day I found out, but it was impossible.
It was a Catch-22. On one hand, I wanted to know the truth, but on the other hand, I was afraid. As far back as I could remember, certain family members tried to convince me that my mother was keeping something from me. I was really strong in the beginning; whenever someone would slightly hint about my mom and some family secret, I would dismiss it because of the ultimate trust I had in her. As the years passed, something was eating at me. I couldn’t take not knowing any longer. I took matters into my own hands.
As I approached the hallway leading into my parent’s room, I heard my conscious say, “Eric, don’t do it, you know you shouldn’t go into your parent’s room looking through their personal belongings. If you really want to know, just call your mom and ask.” I stopped for a quick second to acknowledge the voice, but like so many other times before, I ignored it. I walked out of the hallway and slowly into their room passed the bed and toward their dresser. I couldn’t decide if what I was looking for was in their armoire or the dresser and didn’t have all day to decide. My father was a supervisor at GM; which meant he could pop in at any moment. I stood there for about 30 seconds when suddenly, a light came on, “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.” My index finger was pointing at the honey pine finished dresser when I got to the last moe. I walked toward the dresser and cautiously opened the top left drawer. I wanted to make sure no one else knew I had been in the drawer, so I memorized sure where everything was so I could put things back exactly how I found them. When I opened the drawer, I also noticed a sliver box with a lock. It looked like something my parents would keep important papers in, but I didn’t know how much time I had, so I moved it to the side and began looking through the papers in the top drawer. I grabbed the first set of papers and my hands began shaking. As I looked through them, I didn’t see anything, so I began putting them on the top of the dresser sequentially so I would not forget what order they were in. After a few minutes of looking and finding nothing relevant, I began feeling bad for going through their things. All I saw was a bunch of junk mail and old receipts. Just as I was about to close the drawer and get out of Dodge, I noticed a piece of paper that looked like a birth certificate. I stared at it for a minute, debating if I really wanted to look at it. As I grabbed it with my right hand, my heart sank in my chest. I pulled it close to my face and studied it like an exam. The first thing I noticed was the city in which I was born. That section had Chicago, my mother’s maiden name, and my father’s name. The birth certificate seemed legit. It had the official State of Illinois insignia and the words, Certificate of Live Birth, in bold letters. The first section had my name, Eric Douglas Thomas, my birth date and the hour I was born. The second section showed my sex, and the county I was born in. The third line seemed legit as well. It indicated that I was born in Chicago, within city limits. Everything seemed cool until I got to the parent section. First, it listed my mom’s name, her age at the time of my birth, and the city she resided in. From the look of it, my father’s information was correct as well, but something seemed a little strange. My father’s section didn’t even contain the relation to child question. He just signed his name under father’s name. My mom’s section had the question clearly spelled out—relation to the child, mother. The other red flag was the section that asked for their ages. I knew for certain that there was a four-year age difference between my parents. So I did the math, at 18 my mom was living in Chicago finishing school at Dunbar High and my father was in college at Texas Southern playing basketball. Come to think of it, my father was from Detroit, he never even lived in Chicago. So if he lived in Detroit, and my mom lived in Chicago, if she was in high school, and he was in college, they couldn’t have possibly known each other. To make it worse, I already knew they weren’t married at the time I was born. I started to feel light headed and my heart started racing faster and faster and I started sweating. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I started telling myself, “Maybe they were shocked when they found out my mom was pregnant and didn’t know what to do. Or maybe they were too young to get married and needed more time to figure out what they wanted to do.” I tried to come up with every reason I could to justify what was happening. The only thing left for me to do was to call my mom. “Yeah, I’ll call my mom and she’ll straighten all this out.” I picked up the phone and quickly dialed her work number. “Microfilm,” she said in her professional voice. “Mom, I need to ask you a question!” She could tell something was wrong in my voice. “What is it son?” “If I ask you will you promise to tell me the truth?” I said in a real nervous tone. “I promise, now what is it?” she asked. “Is daddy my real father?” The silence penetrated my soul. It might have only lasted for a few seconds, but it felt like minutes. Finally she said, “No son, he isn’t your real father.”
CHAPTER
3
I’m a Survivor
Now that you are out of my life, I’m so much better, You thought that I’d be weak without ya’, But I’m stronger, You thought that I’d be broke without ya, But I’m richer, You thought that I’d be sad without ya’, I laugh harder, You thought I wouldn’t grow without ya’, Now I’m wiser, You thought that I’d be helpless without ya, But I’m smarter, You thought that I’d be stressed without ya’, But I’m chillin’ ---Destiny’s Child
As the sun started to set, I got nervous. Although this wasn’t my first time being away from home, it was the first time I left home and didn’t have a clue as to where I was going. The darker it got, the more unsettled I was. Somehow, the anger I felt from the situation that took place earlier between me and my parents vanished. Fear of the unknown had replaced the feelings of anger and any other emotion I had at that time. I felt overwhelmed every time I thought about where I was going to sleep and what I was going to eat. I got nauseous thinking about how long it might be before I had a normal life again. It began to hit me that I never thought the whole thing through. I let my emotions get the best of me. Just as the words, “I shouldn’t have” were coming out of my mouth, I heard my inner-voice say, “Humble yourself and go back home, apologize and deal with the consequences. If you go back, the punishment will be harsh but they will forgive you.” “I can’t, I can’t do it,” I kept repeating. I started scratching my head and rubbing my face to clear my thoughts. I couldn’t believe I allowed that thought to enter my mind. I decided from that point forward, no matter how terrified I was, no matter how lonely I was, no matter how hurt I was or how defeated I felt, I was not going back. I made a vow to myself that day, “Today I will live as a free man and never return home.”