Daddy, he has a gun.

Lynell did a fantastic job. He fed, clothed, and provided a roof over our heads. He supported us academically and in sports. He gave his time and money to keep us safe and to show us there was still good people in this world. So, who is this other man in our house?

Working in construction, my step-father worked long days and would often take jobs out-of-state. If there was a prison, dam or major construction project in California, Arizona, and Vegas, he built it. While he was working, mother was cheating. She initially introduced this man as her cousin, but we all knew better. Whenever Lynell would leave for work, mother would boldly have this man at the house, my step-dad’s house.

One day after a long week of work, Lynell came home to find the man sitting in a chair with a gun in his lap and my mother standing next to him, saying, “I can’t do this anymore. You have to go.” My step-father was blind-sided and didn’t want to say the wrong thing or move the wrong way. He sadly looked at me and my brothers, walked to his room, grabbed what he could carry and left. It was devastating. How could she! Our new world was over and she didn’t care. She wanted her old life back, even if it was at the expense of her children’s stability and her husband’s heart.

Mother made her position clear when she said, “I’m done raising kids!” I was fifteen years old.