The Scarlet F - 1. Chapter 1- To Cover Up

I hear the sounds of yelling.

I feel the touch of broken glass.

I taste the flavor of blood.

I sniff the smell of alcohol.

I see the sight of burses.

These are the five senses of my life,

My earliest memories were sitting on my busted up bed hearing the sounds of my parents yelling with a backdrop of beer bottles breaking.

"Come on Gina." My dad would scream.

“I am not getting you more beer." My mom would scream back.

I would try to be quiet, but my whine always seemed to echo through the small apartment.

"What's wrong with you Jimmy? Why you crying like some girl?" His voice would bomb my room as he came in with his drunken eyes, blue like mine, but filled with unknown range.

"Sorry, I'm sorry Daddy." I would cry.

"Why didn't you come when I called you?" He yelled as he slapping me in my right cheek.

"Did you hear me?" He yelled as slapped me in the left cheek.

"I'm sorry, dad." I cried.

He grunted "So now you're crying like some girly boy."

It just caused more blood and more tears.

"I'm sorry." I cried again.

Eventually, he got tried and slowly stubbed out.

I laid on my bed trying to stop crying for about five minutes.

***

The reporter on my best friend's, Matthew's, TV was doing another story the AIDS virus.

I spent most of my time with Matthew. We had every class together. We read comic books and traded baseball cards together. Matthew's house was well... really a house, a home. He had a loving family, corky but loving. They were everything that mine wasn't. His little sister Mary was annoying but I couldn't help to laugh at her trying to boss around her older brother. I would make every excuse I could think of to stay there, any excuse to not go home.

Mr. Edwards and Mrs. Edwards were sitting on their couch. Matt stood behind them on the stairway lingering. I rolled my eyes and threw a baseball at him.

"Ow" he grasped rubbing his arm.

"What are you looking at?" I smirked.

He turned away from the TV, "Nothing."

“James it’s getting dark, can I drive you home?”

“No that’s okay. I’ll walk.”

Mr. Edwards would always offer me a ride home, but I would tell him that I could walk. The Edwards knew where I lived and all. In fact, Mr. Edwards worked at the supermarket where some of my dad's famous drunk scenes took place. Mr. Edwards seemed to have always watched me carefully.

As a kid, I used to think he had laser eye vision because I could felt his eyes burning into my skin. I just couldn't help to feel he didn't like me. Not that I could blame him, I ate his food, watched his TV, hell I was at his house more than he was. Not to mention every curse word and bad habit his son knew was probably because of me. He seemed to be friendly with me around his wife and kids, but I feared what he would do if we were ever alone together. So I refused a ride, it was always for the better.

***

I walked home through the white trash color scheme: the black color of the sky, the reddish brownish color of rusted pipes, and the very off white color of the bricks. Drunken yells ringed thought out the neighborhood, but after all these years their screams didn't really affect me as much. I just walked to my apartment to find my dad sitting on the couch watching TV. His face blankly stared at the old set.

"Hi dad." I nicely greeted him.

He didn't move or talk or do anything to show that I was in the room.

I walked over and sat next to him waiting. Waiting for him to talk to me, look at me, or address me in some way. I waited and waited. His only movement was blinking once in a while. Eventually, I quietly got up to go bed.

***

My mother taught me about makeup.

"You blend it with your fingers like this." She said applying it my latest bruise.

Then she took a tiny tan color jar and used it on her own purple eye.

"Benny says boys don't wear this girly stuff," I said looking through the pink makeup box.

"Well, it's not lipstick, though raspberry would look amazing on you."

She laughed running a hand through my thick black hair.

"But honey, this is a different type of makeup. It's for a good reason."

She went on. "You can't walk out looking beat up, people will talk or worst they'll take you away."

She put down the jar and picked a shiny eye shadow color panel. "And your father would break without you."

"Really?" I smirked.

"Yes honey, I know it's strange, but your father loves you more than anything."

She cracked a little smile and fluff her big black hair, she loved having big hair.

"That's one, of the reasons I fell in love with him..." She stopped herself. "Your father is a good guy he just....he is just..."

She paused.

I picked up a small bottle of lipstick that I couldn't stop looking at.

"He just has problems." She finished as she saw me holding the bottle.

It was bright red with sparkles. Something about it just had something that drew me in.

"You like that one Jimmy?" She asked.

My mom was the only one that I could get away with calling me, Jimmy. As far as everybody else, I'm James.

I nodded.

She smiled, "It's called Maria."

"Why?" I asked.

"Why what?" She asked putting on her gold hoop earrings.

"Why did they name it Maria?"

She smiled at me.

"Because of the name Maria." She said shaking her shoulders and rolling the r. "Sounds like a woman that's sexy, bold, and fearless. She is the kind of woman that's in control of her life. I always loved that name."

It was nice seeing her excited.

"Mommy...why do we wear makeup?" I asked her.

Her eyes darken "To cover up, to cover up babe.”