Soul Food Pt. 04

Thanks to Killerarmyguy and Taco for the edits.

Warning some of you might take offense about a few sections in this story. If you do, well, sorry, but sometimes stories are meant to be controversial to make you think and question. Now, if that stops you from reading this story, then I suggest you stop right now and seek another story to read; because I'm not going to pull any punches, and it might get some of you hot under the collar. Again, I apologize, yet the story calls for it. So, let this be a fair warning to anyone who continues to read this addition to the Soul Food series.

******

"Coraline, Coraline!" Marybeth spoke rapidly in a worried tone as she knelt over her unconscious boss. She had checked her pulse and her breathing. She was fearful about moving Coraline's head in case she cracked her skull open on something. Reaching up about to call 911 from the phone on Coraline's desk when she began to come out of her fainting spell. "Thank God, you had me so worried?!" Marybeth uttered, helping Coraline to sit up. "Are you alright?" she asked, seeing a look in her friend's eyes that she's never seen before. Fear!

"No, no, I am not," Coraline snapped as the flashes of her rape flared in her mind. "I'm sorry, Marybeth, I didn't mean to snap at you," she apologized. "I have to go," Coraline said, scrambling to her feet and pocketing the newspaper clipping of a boy that just might be her son. "If anyone asked, I got sick and had to take a personal day," she spoke hurriedly, closing her briefcase.

"Coraline, what's going on? I've never seen you like this before," Marybeth stated, watching something coming over her friend as she remained silent.

"I can't talk about it, Marybeth, at least not now," Coraline said in an apologetic tone.

"Okay, but there has to be something going on here, Coraline."

"I promise, when I can, I'll tell you," Coraline said, walking out of her office. "I hope," she added to herself. At the age of thirty-two, she never thought she would be faced with the picture of the child she had given up. It never occurred to her that he was still in that city. What was she going to do? Pulling out her phone, scrolling down her list of contacts and coming to her parents' number who lived in Oliver Springs, TN which was about fifty minutes from Knoxville. Lifting her phone to her ear as she stepped out of the cab of the elevator and walked hurriedly towards the parking structure that was attached to the building.

"Honey? What's wrong? Aren't you supposed to be at work?" her mother's voice came over the line as Coraline pushed the handle of the door with her hip and exited her place of business.

"He's found me!" Coraline said in a frantic voice.

"Who... oh God! Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mom, I'm very sure!" Coraline snapped. "Sorry, sorry." Blowing out a breath as she stopped in her tracks. It always happened when that man came up.

"Oh, honey, are you alright?"

"No," Coraline said in a trembling voice as that fear she thought she conquered surged back to the forefront of her mind.

"Where are you? I'll come and get you."

"I'm coming to you; he sent me something," Coraline said in an ominous tone.

"He swore to us he would not contact you ever!"

"I know."

"I'll make sure he sees a damn jail cell again!" Coraline couldn't stop her smile from touching her lips when her mother went all mama bear. "When will you get here?"

"In an hour," Coraline spoke as her car door shut.

"Okay, honey, be safe; we'll see you when you get here."

******

"Okay, honey," her father spoke once they had calmed their daughter down after the fit of crying when they sat on their couch in their living room. "Your mother said something about that man sent you something?" he asked, pondering why he didn't end the bastard then and there. He knew why; his wife had talked him out of doing something stupid and rash.

"He sent me this," Caroline said, pulling out the newspaper clipping the man had sent her. Hearing her mother gasp and her father's hard breathing as Denis' picture peered up at them.

"He looks so much like him," her mother whispered, to which Coraline simply nodded. She couldn't tell what color of his hair it was nor the color of his eyes given the black and white photo of Denis. She didn't have to. It was burnt into her brain. How could she ever forget? He was her baby. She remembered those soft green eyes looking up at her as she held him in her arms once she had given birth to him. Recounting the small patch of brown hair on top of his head. To the feel of how he suckled on her left breast before the people from the State came to take him away. At the time, she thought she was doing the right thing. Yet, there had been times she wondered what had happened to him. If he's had a good life. If a family ever adopted him, and if they were kind to her boy. Wondering if he could forgive her for not taking care of him like a mother should, also if he ever thought about her. Looking over when her mother laid a hand on her right forearm.

"What do you want to do, honey?" her mother asked in a caring tone.

"I don't know?! Do I have any right after all this time just to pop up and say 'Hi! I might be your mother; let's find out!'" Coraline exclaimed, getting up from her seat.

"He most likely is Coraline. You know how adamant that bastard was in forcing you to get an abortion. So we can safely assume that it's his because I seriously doubt any woman would willingly sleep with that man and have his child," her father spoke with his wife nodding along.

"Look, he even has the name you gave him," her mother pointed out when she read the article.              

"What?!" Coraline uttered; she would have thought whoever adopted her son would have changed his name.

"Coraline, do you want to know if this is your son?" her mother asked, looking right at her, to which Coraline nodded vehemently. "I know your father would agree; we would like to know our grandson as well." Reaching over and sliding her hand into his, knowing what she said was true. "Let's see what we can find out about these McCarty folks," she said, looking over to where their old desktop sat .

******

Two weeks later...

Denis was walking home from the gym after his workout to keep limber as he waited for his next challenger to appear that wanted the title he had won a little over a month ago. For the past few days, it's felt like someone's been watching him. Stopping in his tracks when he came to a trash can that lined the sidewalks. Upturning the water bottle his trainer had given him after the sparring match he had with one of the men he was teaching, he went easy on him; Denis could tell the man had never stepped into the ring before. However, it was a good exercise, nonetheless. Even if the man outweighed him by fifty or more pounds. Screwing the cap on and tossing the empty bottle into the trash. Wondering what chores his grandmother needed him to do as he headed off towards the direction of her house. Denis turned when he heard a car stopping behind him as he waited for the crossing light to change. Arching an eyebrow when he watched a woman reaching into the trash and pulling out a bottle, which looked like the one he just threw away into a plastic bag.

While he wasn't anyone to disparage anyone from trying to stay alive by eating out of the garbage. He did find it odd that someone with the means of owning a car would be digging through the trash; also equally confusing was they only took the bottle before jumping back into their car.

"Fuck!" Denis was blinded when someone in the back fired off several camera flashes rapidly as they drove by him. It took the rest of his walk to his grandmother's house to get the dark spots to fade from his eyes.

Waving to his grandmother as she sat on her porch chatting away with the elderly man that lived beside her. He always wondered if the man had a crush on his Nana. Not that he could blame the man, his grandmother was awesome! Especially when she made her famous cream-cheese brownies. They were just to die for if you took Shawna's and his mother's word for it.

"Hey, Nana, Mr. Mullins," Denis greeted, not speaking about the weirdness that had just transpired. "Dad said something about you needing some work done around here."

"Hello, sweetheart," Dorthey said with a warm, loving smile on her face as she peered at her grandson. It didn't matter to her if Denis was adopted into the family; he was her grandbaby. "I do, I do," she nodded to his statement.

"What with?" Denis asked, looking around; the grass wasn't too high, her flower beds didn't look like they needed weeding.

"The gutters, they need to be cleaned out before the summer rains get here. Do you think you can..."

"Sure, Nana, just point me to where the ladder is," Denis said, cutting in. Not missing how that smile just grew when he spoke those words.

"It's leaning against the shed; Stan was supposed to do it for me, but he got a tad busy at his shop."

"Don't worry about it Nana, happy to help; I'm sure Uncle Stan will do it next time," Denis said before heading off towards the back of his grandmother's house.

"You be careful up there!" Dorthey hollered.

"Yes, Nana," Denis called back, smiling as he did.

"You have one caring boy there," Mr. Mullin said as he rocked in his chair. "I can barely get mine to lift a finger around my house."

"Well, that's the difference between nurturing and the whip," Dorthey teased her old-time friend. Hiding the pain of knowing Denis knew the feeling of the whip all too well. She also knew since she went to every court date to see the people who did that to her grandchild put in prison for a long time. As well as the social worker who turned a blind eye to the abuse that was occurring in the home the State had placed him into. Dorthey pondered on what happened to Denis' birth mother as she chatted away with her friend. Also asking herself if Denis wanted to find her or if he wanted anything to do with her in the first place. She knew when he was younger he didn't; now, she didn't know. Maybe it was time to brooch the subject with Denis again.

"Denis, I got you a little something for working so hard for this old woman," Dorthey cooed in a grandmotherly voice, holding a small plate with her famous brownie on it along with a glass of cold milk to wash it all down. She knew Helen would be upset with spoiling Denis' appetite before dinner. Yet, her grandbaby worked hard, and he deserved a little treat.

"Thanks, Nana," Denis uttered in a happy tone as he took the plate from her and the glass.

"So, how's school?" Dorthey asked; she knew all about his troubles with his studies due to how he was raised until her son and daughter-in-law saved him from that fate.

"Okay, I guess," Denis answered after swallowing his bite. That fear that has haunted him since he could remember was still with him to this day that the moment he graduated that they wouldn't want him any longer.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Just something I'm working out," Denis mumbled, feeling the warmth of her touch on his forearm and the concerned light in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Denis?"

"It's just that, will I still be family when I do graduate?"

"Oh, honey, of course, you will! You will always be my grandbaby, and you will always be George's and Helen's son. If anyone ever tries to tell you otherwise, then you tell them to come and see me, and I'll get my boots out and show them a thing or two," Dorthey said with a stern nod. "Denis, I know you've dealt with things that my ancestors have faced, and made to think you weren't human, that you weren't this strong, caring boy I've grown to love as one of my own. I know that fear may never leave you. Yet, you know in your heart this is where you belong, don't you?" Her genuine warm smile spread across her face at Denis' nod as he enjoyed his treat. "Now, if you ever feel like this, you come to see me, and I'll straighten you out. You, young man, are very much a part of this family and don't think to ever forget it." Her heart warmed as Denis smiled, and that cloud she had seen in his eyes fading. Knowing how long it took Denis to truly smile due to the horrors he had faced in his first ten years of life. Dorthey was determined that her grandson never once again felt the need to scowl, ever again.

"Now, you be careful carrying these home with you," Dorthey spoke, handing Denis a Tupperware container filled with half of the batch of brownies she had made earlier that day. "You know what will happen if they find out you lost them," she said, smiling deviously at him, seeing Denis nodding that he did.

"You're the best, Nana," Denis said, hugging his adopted grandmother.

"Now you be safe going home, don't you get into any trouble on the way home," Dorthey teased as she stood on her front porch after Denis had washed up.

"Yes, Nana, love you," Denis called back as he walked down Dorthey's driveway.

"Love you too, sweetheart, and remember you come by anytime you need to," Dorthey called back, waving to him when he turned to look at her. She did love seeing that smile on his face.

******

"Mom, Dad, I'm home!" Denis called out when he walked through the front door.

"Welcome home, son," George said, wheeling himself into the doorway of the living room. "Are those Mom's brownies?" he asked, eyeing the container.

"Mmmhmm," Denis hummed.

"George!" Helen shouted, causing her 38D breasts to bounce when her husband was about to purloin... "You hand those over right this second young man?!" she exclaimed as her eyes fell upon the treasure.

"Nah-uh, these are mine!" Denis said in a diabolical voice, winking at his father, who was pressing his lips together, trying not to laugh.

"Denis Rothman McCarty, you hand those brownies over to me right this second?!" Helen intoned in her best prosecutor voice. Hearing the sound of her other children's feet racing down the stairs.

"I don't wanta," Denis said, playing up his child-like act. "Nana said these were just for Dad and me. Nobody else," he teased. Seeing his sister and brother smacking their lips as their eyes fell on the container. Watching how Will strolled up to him in that big brotherly fashion.

"Denis, I'm sure Nana included me in that as well," Will spoke, placing a hand on his little brother's shoulder.

"Traitor!" Helen and Shawna yelled in unison.

"What? These are Nana's brownies; it's every man for themselves," Will said with a joking smile on his lips.

"What ya think, Dad?" Denis asked, looking down at his father, the man that he could always turn to. Lean on when he had trouble figuring out the world around him.

"Well, I suppose," George uttered, stroking his chin, playing into Denis' little tease.

"George! How can you be so cruel to your wife?!"

"The best that I can recall, you two ate most of them the last time Mom sent a batch home with Denis; I think we men should get our fair share," George spoke, turning his wheelchair towards his wife. Seeing Helen's and Shawna's jaws dropping when he said that.

"Don't you want your wife to be happy? Because those brownies make me very happy," Helen said, never taking her eyes off of them.

"Denis, you aren't that cold to leave me out, are you?" Shawna asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

"I don't know; these are probably the best ones she's made so far," Denis muttered, tapping his chin, feeling the eyes of his family boring into him.

"What do you mean the best ones?!" Helen asked, crossing her arms below her breasts.

"Nana gave me this really big one, and it was so good too," Denis replied, seeing the tide turning against him.

"Well now, that just isn't right; I think you need to hand those over to me..."

"No me!"

"Nah-uh, me, I need the sugar rush to study," Will said as he and his father took hold of the sides of the container.

"Not so fast, you two; if anyone gets these pretties, it's Mom and me," Shawna said, staking her claim with Helen nodding along.

Denis' hand just fell away, wondering if this was how a family normally acted. Wondering if his real mother had kept him, if this would've been the same. Then again, if she had, he knew he would never have known the four best wonderous people in the world.

"Shawna, go place those in the kitchen; we'll have them after dinner. Although, you, young man, I think you've had your fill for today," Helen said, wagging her finger at him, to which the rest of his family nodded along.

All commotion stopped when Denis just hugged George out of the blue. "Love you, Dad," Denis uttered, feeling his father's arms wrapping around him. Feeling those hands that had guided him shaped him into the man he was rubbing along his back.

"I love you too, Denis," George said; he and Helen knew all about Denis' insecurities, and they made every attempt to squash those fears whenever they popped up.

"Denis, come help me get dinner on the table," Helen said in a motherly voice, holding her hand out to him.

"We're still watching the game tonight, right?" Denis asked, looking at his brother before walking towards his mother.

"You better believe it," Will answered with a firm nod. It was why he was home so early to watch the first game of their city's home team, the Philadelphia Phillies, season.

"So, how was your day, honey?" Helen asked as Denis set the plates around the table while she loaded the shallow dish with their pan-fried pork chops.

"It was okay, but then it got weird," Denis said, taking the dish from his mother.

"Okay, how so?" Helen inquired, placing her right hand on her hip.

"Saw this woman digging through the trash."

"Denis..."

"She wasn't looking for food, like I was," Denis cut in, placing the dish on the table.

"And what was this woman looking for?"

"A bottle kind of looked like the water bottle I threw away; who would place a discarded bottle into a Ziplock-style bag?" Denis asked, shaking his head at the weirdness. However, the look in his mother's eyes had him worried. Equally more so when she took him by the arms.

"Denis, did these people, did they try speaking with you?" Helen asked, fearful of what it meant. She knew why they had bagged the bottle. Why they had taken it in the first place. The police did the same thing. Once an item is thrown away, the person's possession of it ends, and it becomes public domain. So whomever it was wouldn't need a court order for Denis' DNA. Seeing how her son wasn't in trouble with the law, she would know immediately if he was. No. There could be only one reason why someone would take her son's DNA, and she could think of only one person that would want it. Denis' birth parents!

"No," Denis answered truthfully. "Although someone in the back of the car did kind of blind me with the number of flashes as they drove past me. Awful slow too," he mused, thinking back on the matter. "Mom?" Denis asked in a worried tone at the look that was playing within his mother's brown eyes.

"Go to your room," Helen said, a little more forceful than she had wanted. Seeing her son taken aback by her words. Seeing how he was trying to figure out what he had done to warrant her raising her voice.

"Mom, I'm sorry about the brownies; it was just..." His words stilled when Helen caressed his right cheek.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice. Just go to your room for me, okay?" Helen uttered in a loving tone. Noting how Denis looked back at her with that worried look on his face as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. That once belonged to her and her husband before he was injured when a tweaker was looking to score. Now, what used to be the den served as hers and George's bedroom. "George, we need to talk," Helen stated firmly as she sat down on the couch while George watched the evening news where their armchair once sat. They had given it to Stan before George had come home from the hospital so that he would never feel like he was being left out.