This is a new story. I ask for your indulgence.
If you are looking for a quick one, you may not like this. I tried to strike a balance between the good bits, and character development, but be warned, it takes a while to get rolling.
For those who aren't into Interracial sex, or Forced Participation, I suggest you look elsewhere. I'm putting it in the Incest/Taboo category because I feel the general thread applies, but my opinion may be biased.
I hope you enjoy your time reading this work. Please send me your feedback when you're done, and cast your votes.
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I was sitting in bed, thinking back....way back....to the beginning of this whole sordid, twisted, convoluted saga. It was a day I'd never forget.
You see, that day turned my life around in so many ways I can't even count them. Some of the changes were immediate. Others took many, many years to become evident.
I guess the best place to start is at the beginning.......
*****
My name is Ethan. My Father is Nathan, and my Mother is Jasmine.
Actually, my Mother
was
Jasmine.
As I said, that day....the one that truly caused my life's path to diverge from the expected one....it was a day I'd never forget. It was the day my Mother died.
I was eight at the time, and I remember hearing my Father's anguished, tortured scream. Being a nosey kid, I got out of bed, and went to the top of the stairs, peeking down at my Father, who was being held up and consoled by a police officer, while his partner retrieved a chair for him to sit on. I couldn't hear much of what was being said, but I knew it wasn't good. The distraught look on my Father's face said it all.
It took quite some time for me to learn what had truly happened that night, but eventually I did. A drug addled teenager, desperate for money to buy his next fix, used his gun to rob the restaurant where my Mother waited tables. No one resisted. They gave him what he wanted, but that didn't stop him from waving the gun around, playing the tough guy. It went off accidentally, and my Mother was the unfortunate person who just happened to be in the path of the unaimed shot. She was killed instantly.
I'd like to say I remember the funeral. Then again, maybe I'm lucky that it's a blurry memory at best. I'd rather have another image of my Mother to remember for the rest of my days on earth, besides that of a wooden box of grief. I chose to forget it, and remember
her
.
Shared pain sometimes brings people closer. I suppose that explains why my Father and I became inseparable. I was missing my Mother, and he only had me left as a part of her. We grew closer than we had ever been before.
My parents had been quite conscientious, with regard to financial planning. I had money that was invested on my behalf for future schooling, but most importantly, they had invested in personal life insurance. The statistics say that most families don't take that step, or that if they do, they don't get enough of it. It's an expense that often gets pushed off the priority list, especially for minorities like us, but my parents didn't want a tragedy for one of them to destroy the lives of all of us. The payout took the financial burden off my Father's shoulders. The emotional one was harder to lift.
That fact was huge, because it allowed my Father to make the next move that would change my life.
I suppose I should mention one thing, before I continue. It's something that I didn't really think was an issue for most of my life, however short that may be so far. Race had never been an factor, as I had lots of friends who were white, but my immediate neighbourhood was mostly black. So was the area where my Mother worked. Whatever the reason behind it, my Father made the decision that we were going to use the money from the insurance policy to move, and bought us a new house, in a 'better and safer'.... and whiter.... part of town. Looking back, I now understand his desire for a fresh start, where every room, sound and part of the neighbourhood didn't remind him of her.
I had never felt unsafe living where we did, but I was just a kid, so what did I know? Maybe Dad was right. Maybe....but I still didn't like moving, and leaving my friends behind. My Father did his best to make it a fun adventure, and I knew as long as he was with me, I was safe. Still, I did put up some resistance.
My new school was....well, a bit traumatic at first. I wasn't the only black kid in my class, as there were several others, but the balance was definitely reversed. The other kids, of all colours, were friendly enough, but I wasn't used to being in the minority. Maybe race was more of a factor than I thought.
Gradually, I found a new circle of friends, and began to fit in. Life, without Mom, settled down.
For about a year.
Until
she
entered the picture.
***
Now, I can completely understand my Father's actions. It was unfair of me, as a child, to expect him to remain alone forever. It was not a disrespectful act, tarnishing my Mother's memory. I'm sure she would have wanted him to move on, and be happy, just as he would have had the situation been reversed.
However, as a nine year old at the time, understanding was lacking. First, I didn't like the idea of some strange woman replacing my Mother. It was another change I simply wasn't ready for. The second reason was more outwardly obvious.
Her name was Selena. I don't know where she and my father met, but somehow they connected. I remember several times I was left with babysitters, that in retrospect were clearly dates between them, until finally I was introduced to her, and she to me. I noticed something about her immediately.
She was....white.
Well, Hispanic, really....but very light in skin tone. I'm a little ashamed to admit it now, but back then, I hated her, from the very beginning.
Despite my best efforts to dissuade them, Selena and my Father hit it off, and she became a frequent visitor at our house. To her credit, she tried to get along with me, but I wasn't interested in meeting her halfway. To me, the solution was simple ; get the fuck out of my life.
***
I was nearly ten by this point, growing taller, like my Father. My friends would often come over to my house to shoot hoops, or use the pool, and it was one of them that first pointed something out to me.
Cameron was older than most of the gang by nearly two years, the eldest brother of my friend Jake, and he was playing basketball with us one afternoon when Selena arrived to spend some time with my Dad. She said hello to everyone....I snarled my return greeting....and she went inside.
"Who...." Cam asked, taking the ball from me, "....was that fox?"
Huh? What's a fox?
I hadn't really started to notice girls yet, even those my own age, so older women were way off my radar. Older is a relative term, of course, but I was too young to know that, at 21, Selena was far from old.... and definitely a fox.
"Her?" I grumbled. "She's my Dad's girlfriend. Why?"
So, just like that, the basketball game ended, and my sexual education began. Cam held class, and I grudgingly listened.
"Didn't you see the tits on her?" he grinned. "And that ass? Man, your Dad must be having fun with her!" I'm sure he had no idea what he was really talking about, but he was older, and he talked a good game, so we all listened. He told us how pretty she was, how 'hot' her long dark hair looked, and how much he'd like to get his hands on her huge boobs.
I didn't see the point of touching her, but somehow his words stuck, and I started to notice what he was saying. It took about another two years for me to really appreciate it, but.....Cam was right.
She was pretty. And built.
And....about to marry my Father.
***
I imagine you can guess how well I took that news.
Not. Very. Happy. To say the least. It was bad enough that he was spending time with her, and forcing me to tolerate her around the house, but now....
Oh shit!
If they got married, she'd be moving in, wouldn't she? She would be trying to take my Mother's place, literally.
That
idea, I hated more than the idea of my Father and a white woman.
As far as the actual wedding goes....I wasn't invited. It was probably best that way. They went away for a week, while I stayed with the neighbours. When they got back, I made up for lost time, kicking up a royal fuss, to no avail.
My Father took me aside, in an effort to ease the tension. Or maybe not.
"Ethan," he said softly, "talk to me. I know you're not happy, but this is happening, so you have two choices ; either talk to me and help me sort this out, or remain silent, and grounded, until you do."
