BREED
Golden retriever:
loving, loyal, and deeply eager to please.
“Cameron Morgan,boy, if I have to tell you to fix your face again, screen time is going to be the least of your worries.”
I looked down at my son, wishing to hell his flared nostrils didn’t remind me so much of his dad. That thought alone made me sick to my stomach. His little handsome face was deceptive sometimes. The boy was cunning. My son was so intelligent that it scared me sometimes.
At seven years old, he understood things that kids his age didn’t have any business trying to comprehend, like why his daddy was sitting in jail facing federal fraud charges. Not only did he understand what was going on, but he had been acting out in the worst ways since the whole fiasco started. My son’s most recent act of rebellion was especially alarming due to his dad’sapparent history. Stealing was something I would never support or tolerate. I didn’t take my eyes off my son as I waited for his response.
“Now answer the question,” I demanded.
He huffed, testing my resolve yet again before shrugging his shoulders weakly. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t know is not a proper response in this situation, Son. Why would you take something without paying? I told you to get anything you wanted, baby. There was no reason to steal.”
His eyes fell to the sidewalk as we continued to stroll back to the car. We had been driving for three hours of a five-hour trip. A pit stop to get food and take a bathroom break almost led to my young son’s arrest. The lump in my throat was a minor reflection of how lost I felt as to what to do with him at this point. My sweet baby was crying out for help, and I had no idea what to do for him.
As much as I hated to uproot my son again, it didn’t make sense to keep fighting the inevitable. Since the home we lived in had been seized during the arrest, I’d relocated to the house I had been renting for the past six months. I stayed close so my son didn’t have to change schools, but the neighborhood was more than I could afford.
Financially, it no longer made sense for me to rent. I had been unemployed since Kendrick’s arrest. The sins of my ex-husband trickled down to me and cost me my job as a trainer at the gym he owned. It had been closed since his arrest with no signs of reopening any time soon. Without Kendrick’s help, I was stretched to the limit trying to make ends meet in his absence. The whispers and rumors seemed to keep me from finding employment elsewhere.
It was crazy how, after seven years, I never saw the signs of his fraudulent lifestyle. Not only had he put himself in danger,but his gambling and schemes had put two of my titles in jeopardy and had all our assets either seized or frozen.
After a short stint as a prize boxer, my ex-husband, Kendrick, threw a lot of his earnings into a luxury car lot that had afforded us a life of leisure until the moment it didn’t. Somewhere along the lines, my dear husband started to dip his toe into sports betting with a ring of his friends. Being the good and loyal friend that he was, he laundered money for their operation through the lot’s car sales.
All it took was for someone to lose their shirt in one of the games for them to bring the entire operation down. I’d stood by him until I could no longer keep up the charade. For a while, I believed the lies. Instead of being honest with me, the whole time Kendrick kept telling me that it was all a huge misunderstanding that would blow over once his lawyers got to the bottom of it.
Eventually, there was too much evidence to ignore. When everything came out, I realized that he had even won six figures on two of my fights. One that I happened to lose. I loved Kendrick, but I no longer trusted him. The sad part was the fact that he wouldn’t even face me. For months I tried to go see him in jail, but he refused to take any of my visits.
His arrest gave me grounds to file for an uncontested divorce and attempt to distance myself from the whole thing. Had he just been honest, maybe I would have had the chance to get ahead of things. Hell, I could have at least hidden some of the money from our shared accounts so that me and my son wouldn’t have to live hand to mouth until I figured out our next moves.
All our assets had been seized, including our home. The only thing that I had that didn’t belong to either him or both of us was my car. My husband prided himself on being a provider for his family, and I respected him for that.
Being dependent on Kendrick for money had led to my detriment in the long run. The little money I’d been smart enough to squirrel away slowly dwindled by the day. For that reason, above all else, I had to lug Cameron five hours away from everything he knew and loved to my hometown.
My grandma’s house had been empty for a few years since my brother had gotten married and bought a house with his wife. She lived a few miles outside of my hometown in a little town called Lakeview. It would be good to be closer to the place where I grew up. When we visited Lakeview, I always had a hard time dragging Cam away. He loved being outside and being able to run and play freely. We had a nice sized yard at home, but there was nothing compared to country living.
Living in a small town would probably do my son some good. It didn’t hurt that we were moving away from the side-eyes and gossiping from the people we once considered our friends. The stigma from Kendrick’s fraud and embezzlement trickled down to me and our son. The moms and other kids at Cam’s school had started to whisper and even outright ask questions about what happened, and how much I actually knew. My son had gotten into two fights before getting kicked out of school because of other children teasing him.
I felt his desire to defend his father, so it was hard for me to be angry with him for fighting. Still, I knew violence was never a good way to handle his problems. I had told him as much. It would be good to put some distance between us and those people. I looked forward to starting over and getting the stench of my ex-husband’s crimes off me.
“I know, Mom, dang,” he said, getting in the car.
Instead of diverting to my reminder about his tone and saying dang when I was already restraining myself from yanking him up by the collar, I stayed on topic. I didn’t put my hands on my son. I didn’t like the fact that he thought violence was a wayto solve his problems. Kendrick had made him feel like it was OK to fight and even encouraged it. That was a topic for another day. At the moment, we were talking about shoplifting. I didn’t need this to become a thing. He needed to learn how serious his crime was. He knew better, so I had to make sure he did better.
“Cameron, what if the man working in that store would have had you arrested for taking that candy?”
“It was just a candy bar, Mom,” my son protested.
Cam had such a smart mouth, just like his dad. I wanted to snatch a loop out of his little ass, but instead, I kept explaining the severity of his crime.
“Cameron, I know you’re still a kid, but if you’re old enough to take something and try to hide it, then in the eyes of some people, you are old enough to face the consequences of your actions. You don’t even understand the ramifications of your actions yet. I need you to hear me clearly, baby. There are people in the world that don’t give a damn that you’re a little kid. All they will see is a black person doing something wrong.”
“Like Dad?”
I sighed, swallowing the lump in my throat before continuing my speech. “Cam, I’m only telling you what’s best. You have to be careful about the decisions you make. One wrong move can change your entire life, baby.”
