GENTRIFICATION

Ten-year-old boys like to play at war. It is a game of their imagination. Theymake sounds of guns firing with their fingers pointed at each other or usesticks as swords poised for battle. They shoot from around bushes and trees.They dive for cover behind garbage cans in the streets. In make believe, theypretend airplanes are overhead ready to drop their bombs. They act out whenthey and their comrades are attacking the enemy. They become victoriouscaptors or wounded warriors.

Boys can enjoy the game because it is not real. At the end of the day, theirmothers call them indoors. They all stand up, brush themselves off, and runin for dinner. They play at war because they do not appreciate what combatreally means: that people actually suffer and die.

Reginald Trent Jones, III, was nearly eleven-years-old when the War inTorkos began. He had no idea where that far off land was located. It meantnothing to him. He had no understanding of why soldiers were fighting there.In fact, this may not have had any importance to him even if he did realizethat a real war raged on. Reginald could not care. He was too busy worryingabout his own struggle to survive.

Not the kind of daily conflict where a child is unsure if he will have aplace to sleep or enough food to eat. No. This was the struggle where youlived in fear, daily fear. Fear of life itself. Fear that you could face harm atany moment. Fear that if you said the wrong words or looked the wrong way,you were tempting the enemy. A beast who might turn on you and attackyou viciously.

For Reginald Trent Jones, III, the fear and the beast were not from theoutside. No, they were right there living and breathing inside Reginald's veryown home.

Reginald's father was an angry, brutal man. He rarely laughed. His facewas set in a hard scowl. Large and muscular, with the tattoo of a fire-breathingdragon on his left forearm, Reginald II, known as Reggie, tolerated little fromanyone. Many feared him as threatening and aggressive. He never thoughtof himself as that. He thought of himself as a manly man who did what heneeded to do. He bathed regularly, kept his hair cut short and his face clean-shaven.

Reggie worked hard as a prison guard everyday. He brought home hispaycheck - well, most of it anyway. The rest he would take to the bar to watchsports events and ogle young girls. He believed he drank about as much beerand liquor as the next guy. But, Reggie used alcohol to help justify terrorizinghis children and beating his wife. To his way of thinking, that was what realmen did.

Reggie's father, Senior, had regularly beaten him as a boy. Senior physically"corrected" Reggie's mother whenever he felt it "necessary." Reggie viewed it ashis badge of honor that he learned to take his beatings "like a man." He neverrecognized being a bully in training. As he grew, Reggie lifted weights anddrank health powders that promised large muscles. He would get into fightswith other boys until he became too large and too violent to be challenged.

Reggie outwardly respected his father. Mostly, he feared him. They nevertalked to each other. Inwardly Reggie never loved or even liked Senior. SinceReggie believed that that was how fathers and sons related, he accepted it asnormal. Eventually, Reggie grew too big for his father to risk hitting him. Acold, harsh emotional distance grew between them.

Having no other model, Reggie decided he would follow his father'sexample. He felt obligated if not entitled to carry on the family traditions.Even more, Reggie needed and wanted to show the old man that he couldoutdo him. That he did.

When Senior grew old and developed dementia, Reggie had no troubleputting him away in a nursing home until he died. Reggie never visited himand never took his children to see their grandfather. At the funeral, there waslittle weeping for Senior from Reggie or allowed by him from his children.

Now, every day when Reggie came home from work, he demanded hishouse to be spotless, his food on the table, and his children nowhere to be seenor heard. After dinner, he would leave the house. He went to the nearby barwhere he would spend his money drinking and his time teasing the barmaids.He liked to pat their backsides or look down their blouses. When it came to beclosing time, Reggie would stumble home. He fell asleep wherever he landed.If awake enough, he would beat his wife or demand sex. Reginald lay awaketo his mother's screams or moans.

Sometimes, Reggie decided to come home and beat Reginald. Onoccasion, he wandered into the wrong bedroom and end up with Reginald'solder sister, Sharlotte. Reginald never understood why his father beat him.No reason was ever given. Nothing was ever explained. Instead, the next day'sabsurd theatre of the forgotten would follow the terror and chaos of the night.By morning, as instructed by his mother, everyone acted as though nothinghad happened. They were to behave as though they had heard nothing, seennothing, remembered nothing. So life went on.

Reginald could not forget, though. He would not let himself forget. Heremembered it all. It haunted his young mind. He would stay awake and listenfor his father's approach. He trembled inside at the sound of his father's heavyguard boots on the pavement outside pounding up the front stairs. Their doorwould be thrown open as Reggie burst into the house. Reginald never knewwhat to expect next, only that it was rarely good.

Eventually, Reginald grew to hate his father's very existence. When oneday he felt bold enough, he complained openly to his mother. She told himhe must be silent. She told him that his father was a good man who workedhard and provided for his family. She told him that she loved his father nomatter what he did. "Underneath, he's a good man who loves his wife andhis children."

She told Reginald that he should be grateful to have such a strong manfor a father. She told him that she loved Reggie for he was the best man shehad ever had. Most of all though, she told Reginald that whatever went on intheir house was never to be told to anyone else - ever.

When Reginald and his two sisters were younger and smaller, Reggiewould discipline his children now and then with quick beatings. As theygrew older, the beatings became more and more violent, especially towardReginald. Reggie began treating their mother more shamefully and with lessrespect as the years passed. Nevertheless, she never complained. She alwaysdefended him.

When Reggie would hit his wife, Sharlotte tried to protect her mother.She was no match for her father's strength or self-righteousness. At night, hewould punish his daughter by forcing himself upon her to "teach her a lessonif she thought she was going to be the woman of the house." This was a lessonshe was sworn by him to keep secret.

He told Sharlotte that if she ever told anybody anything he would justdeny it. "Who would believe ya?" He would tell her. "It would just end uphurtin' yer mother." He also threatened that if she did tell anyone, he wouldthen have to start "teaching" her younger sister, Sherry, "the lessons."

Reginald's mother pampered Sherry. Everyone treated Sherry as thespecial baby of the family. So, Sharlotte chose to keep her silence and protecther mother and her sister. She never told anyone what went on between them.Instead, Sharlotte quietly suffered her father's indignities upon her.

By the time he turned twelve Reginald was growing quickly. His babysister, Sherry, had started calling him Ginny. The name stuck. He becameknown among his friends as Gin Trent-Jones, then simply as Gin Trent. Forthe next two years, Gin ran the streets with the other boys, getting into hisfair share of fights. It seemed that there were many boys on the streets whosefathers were off at war.

Reggie never went to the War in Torkos. Exempted as a prison guard, healso claimed he had a bad back that kept him from passing the physical exam.The other boys teased Gin about his father, as boys will do. In response, asa boy will do to protect the reputation of himself and his family, Gin beganmaking up a story that Reggie was about to join up. His father would becomea soldier as soon as some paperwork was completed. That seemed to work wellenough with the boys on the streets. Not so well with Reggie.

One night, Reggie came home from work in a rage. He burst intoGin's room. His face was red while the veins in his neck were engorged andpounding. Reggie knocked over a floor lamp as he stormed over to where Ginhad been sitting at the desk in his room, studying for school. With his prisonguard work boot, he kicked the side of Gin's chair. Gin and the chair wentflying across the room. He hit the wall before sliding down to the floor.

"Who the fuck do you think ya are, boy? Huh? I'm gonna kill ya righthere and now. I'm gonna beat yer ass so bad ..."

Reggie stumbled across the fallen chair as his outstretched arms reachedfor Gin's throat. Rightly fearing for his life, Gin jumped up as quickly as hecould. He ran across his bed and out the door of his room. His father, incensedeven more by the apparent defiance of his son to stay and allow himself to bebeaten "like a man," came after him. When he reached the kitchen, Gin foundhis mother standing at the sink. She turned to him, seeing a look of fear anda cry for help in her son's face that she had never seen before. When Reggiecame into the kitchen, she motioned for Gin to stand behind her. For the firsttime in his life, Gin's mother put herself between her husband and her son.

"Reginald Jones," she demanded, "you stop this right now." She reachedover and picked up a large butcher's knife.

"What? Ye're fixin' to stab me and save him from the beatin' he deserves,"his voice raged. "Is that it? Ya think ye're brave enough for that, do yawoman?"

"Reginald Jones, I will not have you beat this boy in the state you're in."Her hand quivered. "If I have to stab you to stop you, well, I'll feel badlyabout that. I'll help stop the bleeding afterward. Make no mistake that I willcut you."

"Do ya know what this snot nose, lying, backstabbing, ungrateful, sonof yers is telling people? Huh, do ya?" He challenged her. "He's been telling`em I'm going off to join the army. Now, they think I'm a coward `cause I'mnot a goin'."

"He's a boy, Reggie, he's just a fourteen-year-old boy. He doesn't knowwhat he's saying. He surely doesn't know what he's meaning."

"Oh, he don't? Ya don't think so, huh? Well, he knows all right. I wasfourteen once myself. I know he knows. Don't ya, boy?" He shook his fist atGin. "Ya thought you could make yer old man look like an asshole so ya couldtell yer little friends out there whatever ya wanted and make ya look like a bigshot, didn't ya?" He spit out as he shouted. "Ya thought ya could make melook like a worthless shit-coward or make me join the army so I'd be sent offto that stupid, damn war over there in Torkos where I'd get my ass shot off,huh? So's ya could take over the house, didn't ya?"

Gin stayed put behind his mother. He was not about to move. He kepthis head down. His eyes averted from meeting his father's glare.

"Do ya think I'm a coward, boy? Well, do ya?" Reggie yelled across theroom. He took one step forward while heeding his wife's threat. "Go ahead,tell me to my face that I'm a coward so's I'll go right through that knife yermomma has waiting there for me. I'll still stay alive long enough to kill yawith my bare hands."

"No, sir. I'm sorry. I, I didn't mean anything." Gin managed to blurt thisout, hoping it might calm down his father. Instead, it made him even moreenraged.

"That's the best ya can do? 'I'm sorry,'" he mimicked. "What a weak,piss-ass answer. Ya should have taken yer beating like a man, boy. Maybe,ye're no son of mine anyway."

Gin's mom switched the knife from her right hand to her left hand. Sheused her right hand to slap her husband hard across the face. She returned theknife to her right hand as she declared, "Don't you ever accuse me of havinga child by another man, Reginald Jones. Now, you take yourself and youranger out of my kitchen. You go wash up for dinner until you can come backwith a civil tone."

Reggie rubbed his face, spit on the floor, then turned and walked out ofthe room.

"Now you, Gin, you go clean up your room and tell your sisters it's timefor dinner," she instructed as she pushed him out of the kitchen.

Gin's mother turned back to the sink as she continued to prepare dinner.Tears ran down her face. Her legs felt wobbly. She shook her head and pushedback her hair. "Everything's all right," she whispered to herself. "Everything'sall right."

Gin carefully walked back toward his room. He knew he had to pass thebathroom where his father was washing his hands. Suddenly, his father wasblocking the hallway. Reggie pulled a knife out of his boot. Quietly, he putit up to his son's throat as he pushed Gin with his large forearm up againstthe wall.

"I never really thought ya was my son, boy. My own flesh and blood. I'vealways suspected yer mother screwed around on me. Ya was her little bastard.Now, whether ye're mine or not, ye're not mine anymore, understood?"

Gin could smell his father's sweaty body odor and fetid, drunken breath."I should kill ya, boy," he whispered in Gin's ear. "Ya deserve that for talkin'about me behind my back. I see the way ya look at yer sister. Ya want herfor yerself, don't ya? Maybe the two of ya already been doing it, huh? Ye'rea dangerous little bastard. I know it. I can feel it in my bones." He pushedharder. "Ya want to find a way to put me away, to get rid of me. If I do killya now, your mother will never forgive me." He paused. "I might end upwith those animals I keep caged up at the prison. So, I'm letting ya off with awarning this time." He pulled back. "Ya remember, I've got my eyes on ya."

Reggie's lip snarled. One eyebrow raised up as he released Gin and walkedaway. Gin never said a word. He merely went on to tell his sisters to come todinner. Later, when he thought of the encounter, Gin could never remember ifhe had been acting bravely or felt too scared to talk. What he did remember washe made a decision. A decision he would someday find a way to carry out.

* * *

Before creating a plan, Gin made one last effort to ally himself with hismother. After seeing her protect him, Gin became emboldened several monthslater to talk to her one afternoon.

"Mom, Dad scares me. He drinks too much. He loses his temper tooeasy."

She smiled and gave Gin a playful hug as she laughed. "Oh, Ginny, he'sjust your dad. You know he loves you. He loves me and the girls, too. I lovehim." She patted his head. "He really is a good man. He just works so hard atthe prison. He doesn't mean it when he gets upset. It's just the alcohol talking.You must forgive him as I do, as the Good Book says we must."

"Mom, how can I? How can good men do bad things?"

"Well, they just don't always realize that they're doing something bad,that's all. They don't mean to."

"Can they say bad things?" Gin asked innocently.

"Certainly, they can."

"Dad said he wasn't my father. That you had me with another man."

"Well, that is hurtful, Gin. Your father was probably just upset when hesaid that. I can forgive him. I'm sure, he didn't mean it."

"What about at night when he comes home. He ... well, you know,he ..."

"Now, Gin, we are not going to talk about those things." She stoppedhim. "Everyone would just be upset for no reason. There's really nothing totalk about. You go off and do your homework or go outside and play withthe other boys or do something and get busy. Dinner will be ready soonenough. Your father will be home. You know how he gets upset if his dinnerisn't ready."

Gin walked back to his room dejectedly with his head down and hisshoulders slumped. As he passed Sharlotte's room, he noticed her door slightlyajar. He could hear soft crying from inside like someone had their face muffledinto a pillow. He knocked twice.

"Go away," was the first reply.

"Hey, Shar, it's me, Gin." He whispered while he stood at the doorwayand carefully looked around. "I'm alone. Let me in."

After a brief pause, his sister whispered back. "Come in but shut thedoor."

Gin and Sharlotte were only fifteen months apart in age. They had grownup as brother and sister and best friends too. Gin had always been Sharlotte'sclosest confidante. She was too afraid to talk to any of her girlfriends. She felttoo embarrassed to let anyone else know what went on in her life. Sharlottecould not trust that what she said to others would never get back to herparents. She and Gin had learned to rely on support from each other tosurvive their parent's secretive, abusive household. Over the years, Sharlottehad revealed many of her deepest thoughts and feelings to her older brother.Those would be nothing compared with what she would tell him today.

Gin sat down on the bed next to her. "Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Reg, you're my brother. I love you." She stopped. "I don't think I cantell you this."