Echoes Of An Oversoul--Part 46

DoctorOversoul By DoctorOversoul, 3rd Jul 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>True Stories

They saw me in church and took a liking to me despite my thuggish facade. They somehow penetrated through the camouflage I was forced to wear since my early childhood years and saw the real me. Read and find out who I'm talking 'bout.

Echoes Of An Oversoul--Part 46

LATE IN THE AFTERNOON, the sun turned into a dullish orange color as evening was rapidly approaching. The little one-bedroom apartment was stationed on the third floor of the building. Cleveland was out working, and I found myself sitting alone in the living room sofa–engaging in retrospection:
Mike was tall, handsome and well-dressed. He was fairly young and had the aura of a self-assured, successful man in his faultless attire. Then there was Joyce, a beautiful woman with long dark-brown hair, which seemed to attract attention everywhere she went. She had strikingly white teeth and a perfect smile, which created charming creases around her mouth and accentuated her blue eyes.
They saw me in church and took a liking to me despite my thuggish facade. They somehow penetrated through the camouflage I was forced to wear since my early childhood years and saw the real me. They saw someone who yearned to be held, caressed, valued and appreciated. They saw a bright kid with some unique characteristics similar to theirs. So they took me into their home–determined to show me a better way of life. However, because I was so comfortable with misery and torment, their unconditional love and kindness gave me panic, and I did the thing I knew best–rebel and draw away.
But now I can be at ease. Yes, I can sort of relax, because tomorrow they’ll be here to pick me up and take me back to the cozy home I had left to go live on the streets. I now understand the meaning of the famous cliche that says; ‘you don’t know how precious your treasure is until you lose it.’
When I spoke to Joyce last week over the phone, she said I was forgiven and that I could come back home. As those thoughts flashed across my head, and I began to think about how in less than sixteen hours I’ll be meeting my beloveds, I chuckled with excitement and felt the elation that only comes when suddenly being taken out of a disastrous environment.

Knock! Knock! Knock! “Who could this be?” I said to myself, as I rose to my feet and made my way towards the door to answer it. “Hey, what’s happening, my man?” I quizzed the bulky figure facing me.
“Ain’ nothing, same old stuff, different day.” Tank replied, and then he barged his way in. “I know tomorrow’s your big day…so I decided to bring you a little something. This here is your favorite, some Chinese food and liqueur. Let’s break bread fo’ one last time, homey.”
Tank new Cleveland’s work schedule like he knew the days of the calendar in the back of his head. And every so often, whenCleveland was out working, he would come over to the apartment and hang out with me. He was known as a very talkative guy, but ever since I moved in with Cleveland, I noticed a change in him. He started talking less, and seemed more and more leery.
From careful examination and reading his expression, I can tell he was indignant. It hurt him to watch most of his friends move forward and make changes, while his life was seemingly moving backward. And frankly, I can sort of understand his feeling, because while most guys his age were independent, he was dependent and had nothing to look forward to. He wasn’t tall, but he was built wide, standing about five-foot-ten with huge shoulders.
Besides violence, he loved smoking reefer. That was one of his sources of escape from reality. I don’t smoke, but when I watched him smoke I believe it boosted up his ego. And I say that because every now and then he would smoke enough until he got a buzz and then began his malarkey about his nickname and the science behind it. He would say things like, “My name is Tank, and I’m a Beast! I’m tough and invincible. I can take on anybody. Big dudes, small dudes, anybody! Tank is the name. Tank, like a military tank. And when you ask me ’bout fear, I got none. I’ll punch yo’ lights out, and stroll on! I’m chilly, even in your warmest season. Witness the ironclad villain. Homey, please, I’ll have you on yo’ knees calling me Hercules.”

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