In the hand which wasn't full of cornmeal, was his grade report. Crumpled and slightly damp, it was the solid proof of his slacking, and he knew Daddy was going to wear him out when he saw it. More tears flowed as he thought of the humiliation and shame of being across Daddy's knees, with his buttocks bared. The thought was so shameful that his tears increased and he saw a few of drops of water splash down into the small bowl, dotting it a deep, dark tan.
Daddy, who wasn't his real father, but might as well had been, because he was the only one Mouiry had ever known, had made it clear that the first spanking he had given his step-son, would not be the last if his grades did not improve. "How do you think you gonna get into college with grades like that?" Daddy had asked while Mouiry had lain across his broad thighs, gasping and coughing after the spanking was over.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," he had managed to choke out through his tears of shock and pain. "I promise I'll do better."
Daddy had grasped his upper arm and given it a squeeze. "I want the best for you. That's the only reason I spank you. And I'll do it again too, if you ever get a report card like this again."
Mouiry let out a small whimper, as he remembered that time, but as bad as his first spanking from Daddy had been, it hadn't been enough to make him study more, and it hadn't helped him with his understanding of Geography. Mouiry shook his head sadly as he began murmering a few words of fractured French over the bowl. He picked up a small rattle which lay nearby and shook it a few times, but his heart was just not in it. Daddy had promised him a spanking if he failed at his schoolwork again and he didn't think that the Loa(gods) were going to help him. In fact the vibe he got was a bad one.
After a few minutes he shook the rattle a final time, then lay it near the small shrine that he and his mother had put up many years ago. Across the room he could see the telephone, and he knew Daddy was at Aunt Fifi's house, because he had seen the note left on the kitchen table for him. Aunt Fifi, a stout, very round woman, was not his real Aunt, but like Daddy, she could've been related by blood, because he loved her like family. She was a jocular woman who always had a twinkle in her eye, and root beer in a bottle to give him when he visited.
He tried to think of something else, anything to block out the punishment he knew he was in for when Daddy returned and he showed him the report card. He knew he was making too big of a deal out of it, but his stomach fluttered with fear, and his eyes continued to stream. At seventeen and a half years old, he felt as afraid as he had when he was five and he had accidently shut the car door on his cousin's hand.
It had just been he and Mama at that time, before he ever knew Daddy, and long before Mama died of cancer--leaving him and his step dad alone--and when he had seen what he had done, he had run into the backyard, and hidden behind a tree, crying loudly. "I don't want a whipping," he had said over and over, like a chant. "I don't want a whipping."
Mama had come out into the yard after a little while and had scooped him up and taken him inside. Getting a popsicle from the freezer she had given it to him and sat him on her lap. "You're not gonna get a whipping, this time," she had assured him, as he sucked on the cherry popsicle. And only then when his bottom was no longer in danger, did he even think to ask how his cousin was.
He sniffled, as he walked over to the telephone, feeling sorry for himself as he went. He wanted to tell Daddy about the report card and ask him not to punish him for it. He wanted desperately to believe that if Daddy knew how much he was suffering already, how scared, ashamed, and sorry he already was, he would relent, and not give a beating this time.
He crossed his fingers and dialed Aunt Fifi's number. His voice was shaky when he spoke to the woman and she apparantly could tell something was wrong because she crooned to him. "What'sa matter, baby?" She asked in her husky, rich voice. "You sick?"
He wanted to confide to her what was wrong, but the thought that she might already've been told about his first spanking, and what it was for, made him cringe with embarrassment. "I'm OK, Aunt Fifi. Is my Daddy around? I need to talk to him." He willed himself not to cry anymore, when he heard the stuffy sound of his own voice, and he did stop, because he realized he was no longer a little boy hiding in the backyard in fear of a whipping. He was practically a man, he reminded himself, while he waited for Daddy to pick up the phone, and men did not cry, even if they were going to be spanked.
Daddy's voice was quiet and warm when he greeted Mouiry over the phone, and the boy felt a little reassured by that. In tumbling, yet halting Cajun, he told his step father about his grade, and then in horror, he heard the childish whiny words that seemed to come out of his mouth of their own accord. "I don't want a whipping, Daddy."
There was a pause, and Mouiry, bit at his lip, breathing in tense gasps as he waited for Daddy to say something. Waited, hoping for his step dad To tell him it was OK and that he wouldn't be punished this time.
"OK, I be home in an hour or so, son. You get in your bed and wait for me."
His stomach roiled and gurgled when he heard the words. "Listen, please," he pleaded while pacing around with the phone in his sweaty hand. He knew he only had a minute to try to make his case before he would be forced to make a dash for the toilet. As if to let him know that his bowels couldn't ake the tension, they gurled again, an ominous low rumble that made him clutch at his belly. "I tried to do better, but it's too hard. I think I'm just stupid or something Daddy. Maybe I need a tutor, but I'm sorry, I'll try harder next time." He was once again on the verge of tears as rubbed at his aching belly.
"You're not stupid, boy. Your teacher say you were bright. Now, I'm coming home, and you better be in that bed when I get there, or I'll take my belt to you."
The words sent a jolt of fear through Mouiry, as the possibility of Daddy's thick, cowboy-style belt being used on him had never even entered his mind. "I have to go, I have diarrhea," he said when his belly gurgled long and loud. " I'm sick now!" His cheeks felt hot and a wave of anger swept over him when he thought about it, and impulsively, he told Daddy in Cajun, that he was not going to be there when he returned. He would be gone!
He heard the alarm in his step father's voice as he began to say something, but not able to hold it anymore, he slammed down the receiver and hurried miserably to the bathroom.
He paced in front of the small alter in his bedroom, as the shadows of twilight deepened, the sounds of night in the swampland that surrounded the house, beginning, and angry and upset, he spat out a few choice words to the Loa. He knew that might bring some misfortune upon him or the household but he didn't care at that point, his fear had trnsformed into a simmering anger.
He lit a small white votive candle and tearing his report card into shreds, he lit it and put the flaming paper into the small dish of cornmeal, watching in fascination as it turned to ashes. He mumbled a few words then went to the closet and pulled out a large gym bag. Stuffing clothes into it, he tried to feel inside if anything had changed by his burning the report card. It didn't seem like it, and tears, this time of frustration, filled his eyes as he zipped his bag. "You know I don't want to leave," he chided, as he turned to the alter once more. "I like it here and Daddy is a good man, but-"
The sound of Daddy's pickup moter stopped him short, and when the crisp sound of the tires hitting gravel met his ears, he bolted for the staircase. He was dashing, planning to make his escape through the back door, when Daddy rushed through the front door, letting the screen door bang loudly behind him.
Like a deer caught in the headlights, Mouiry stood still in the living room, his bag hanging from his hand, and he cringed a little as Daddy moved quickly toward him, because he didn't know what to expect, after what he had said earlier.
His bag thudded to the floor as his step dad grabbed him and held him close in fierce hug. "You're not going anywhere!"
He felt safe all of the sudden, with his step dad holding him close, and when he caught a whiff of the slightly tangy smell of Daddy's sweat mixed with his spicy aftershave, his whole body suddenly relaxed. All the time he had spent building things up in his mind seemed almost foolish now that the man who had taken care of him singlehandedly for the last three years, was here with him.
"I know," he said as he held onto Daddy's shirt like a much younger boy.
"No, not this time," Daddy replied, his voice as quiet and warm as ever. "Next time maybe yes, though, so be careful."
Mouiry looked at Daddy for a minute, and then trying to make himself brave, he squared his shoulders and began the long walk up the stairs and to his bedroom.
He walked past the shrine, mumbling a few words of apology and then crawled into bed and under the covers. Shivering in fearful anticipation, he stared up at the ceiling and talked in his head to Mama, trying to feel closer to her.
It was probably only a few minutes before Daddy came in, but it seeemd like an eternity, and when Mouiry saw his step dad standing there he sat up quickly, and his heart gave a hard thud.
"I'm gonna wear you out now, boy, and then we're gonna think about how you gonna get those grades up. Mama left me to take care of you and I'm gonna see to it that you get to college, one way or the other." Daddy's voice wasn't mean, but it sounded to Mouiry like he really meant what he said.
He shivered in fear as he took his pants down for the whipping, and when he had to go over and lie across Daddy's lap, the tears began to flow. He could barely see anything, his eyes were so blurred, but he knew there was no real way out of his punishment so he navigated himself across his step dad's broad thighs, and put his palms on he floor. "I don't deserve to get worn out, and I'm too old to to be worn out on my bare butt" he mumbled, feeling embarrassed and resentful with his bare bottom sticking up over Daddy's lap, like it was.
Daddy's answer was a crisp slap to Mouiry's tail. Mouiry jerked and hissed through his teeth as the sting of the first smack hit him but Daddy's hard, calloused palm kept coming down, over and over, as he kept his earlier promise to wear Mouiry out.
The spanking was at least as bad as the first one he had a couple of months ago, and he when it was over, and he'd pulled his briefs and jeans back over his burning behind, he sat beside Daddy on the bed and looked solemnly at him. He then forced, through his sniffles, the words which were hard to say but that needed to be said, nonetheless. "I'm sorry," he said huskily, "I'll bring my grades up. I promise."
He looked away then, but when he felt his step dad's hand on his shoulder, he looked over at him. "Get the card and we'll look at it together," he said, giving Mouiry a friendly smile, and a pat.
"I can't, I burned it for a sacrifice," Mouiry said, his heart pounding as it fully sank in what he done earlier and that he was supposed to have the card signed.
"Why??"
his step dad sounded amazed. "Why'd you do that, Mouiry, answer me now before I wear you out again!"
"So you woundn't whip me. I did it so I would be protected from a whipping," he said in low, embarrassed voice.
He nodded, and then wiped a palm over my runny nose. "I know. I was real scared today though," he answered and sniffled.
When Daddy looked over at Mouiry, his eyes looked soft. "Scared of me? You don't need to be scared of me, ever. I just want you to get to college, son. You're a good boy, and I love you like you were my own flesh and blood. You don't need to ever fear me."
The teen nodded and then yawned, feeling really tired. Since it was all over, Daddy's words made perfect sense, but he could still remember how terrified he had been earlier, even though he was trying to forget.
Daddy grinned and then held up his palm. "This is what you need to be scared of, though... if you don't get those grades up. And that means studying every night, not asking the Spirits to get you out of it when you haven't tried. You understand?"
Looking at the broad palm that he was teasingly being threatened with, he was pretty sure he understood clearly!
After Daddy had left and had shut the door behind him, leaving Mouiry to lie in the darkness with just the Spirits for company, he rolled onto his stomach with a groan, his hot bottom brushing the mattress and re-igniting the earlier flames.
He began to drowse, while remembering his mother, and he felt sort of safe when he thought about how Daddy was always there to take care of him after she'd died--even if he did whip him a couple of times.
He knew for sure this time that he was going to try harder at school, and even though he had said that to himself last time he been punished, he really was certain this time.
Frowning a little just as sleep began to overtake him, he realized the he had been sure the last time too, but somehow the passing of time after the whipping had changed his resolve.
Just on the border of sleep, he remembered once again sitting on his mother's lap when he was very small, and her assurance that he wouldn't be whipped. At seventeen and a half, he no longer had that surety nor did he have his mother. But, he thought about the kind of person she was, and he knew she would want him to make something out of himself. He also knew Daddy was going to see things through with him. All he had to do was his part... and maybe the Spirits could give him a little luck too.
copyright © 2005 Tris