Page 8 of Domencio DeLuca

“Elijah, we have a situation here,” daddy told him.

“What’s going on Clinton? What kind of situation?” Uncle Elijah inquired with concern.

Daddy let out a deep breath before asking, “Elijah do you remember a woman by the name of Lolita Burns?”

There was silence from the other end, I guess Uncle Elijah was trying to recollect the name and person.

“Yeah, I remember her,” he said. “She tried pinning her baby on me.”

Daddy closed his eyes, as momma rolled hers.

“Elijah, her baby was yours,” daddy told him.

Uncle Elijah laughed. “No, it wasn’t. You know how these loose women in the streets will try and pin a baby on a dude with some money. I know for sure her baby wasn’t mine.”

“And I know for sure he is,” daddy countered.

The laughter left Uncle Elijah as he asked, “And how do you know that?”

Daddy exhaled as his eyes landed on Booker. “Because I’m looking right at him. Elijah, he is your son. He looks exactly like you at his age.”

Uncle Elijah was quiet again before demanding, “What’s his name? Bring him to me. I want to see him. If he is mine, then I’ll know.”

“Trust me brother, he’s yours and his name is Booker. Tomorrow is Sunday and visitation day, I’ll bring him there, but I’m telling you now, whether you accept him or not this boy is a Morgan, and I will not turn my back on him.”

“I understand,” Uncle Elijah said before daddy ended the call.

After we had breakfast, momma and daddy took Booker to our private physician. Other than being slightly dehydrated and underweight for his age, Booker was physically fit. The doctor gave them a cream to apply to the ringworm, and a diet regimen to put weight on him, but momma tossed the diet plan into the garbage.

"I don’t need some damn doctor’s plan to tell me how to feed a child. Give me two weeks and Booker’s weight will climb to where it needs to be,” momma said, going to the passenger side of daddy’s Suburban.

“I know you will, baby,” daddy said, while opening the door for her to get in. “Right now, we need to focus on Booker being one hundred percent healthy, physically, and mentally. Daddy used to tell me and Elijah about using rubbers, but evidently Elijah wasn’t listening, or else we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Daddy looked into his rear-view mirror at Booker, saying, “Booker, I don’t mean that in a harsh way, but I just wish we would have known about you sooner.”

Daddy took us to the local mall where he purchased clothes and toys for Booker. He had everything a boy would need and more.

Before returning home, we made one last stop at Bed, Bath, & Beyond. I smiled as momma told him to pick out his bedding. Booker went straight to the Spiderman collection. When we returned home, I helped momma turn one of our guest rooms into Booker’s. You could tell he was excited about having his own room.

Sunday arrived and daddy woke Booker and me up at seven o’clock in the morning. Momma had breakfast ready with scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, smothered potatoes, and pancakes. As we sat at the table enjoying her meal, daddy wiped his mouth, and said, “Okay you two finish up, we have a four-hour drive ahead of us.”

“Clinton, maybe I should come along with you all,” momma said.

Daddy placed his napkin on the table. “No, Rachel, you need to take care of the restaurant. I’ll let you know how things went when we return.”

As daddy stared at her, momma picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip. Not long after, daddy had me and Booker seat belted in the back of his Suburban. After kissing momma goodbye, he got in the driver seat, taking us to see Uncle Elijah.

The four-hour ride didn’t seem as long while daddy kept us entertained with travel games and watching movies from the letdown television screens. By the time we arrived at Angola, Booker and I were knocked out.

Going into the prison was like entering a different world. Although I had talked to Uncle Elijah hundreds of times over the phone, this was my first time visiting him at the prison. Daddy had always kept me from going with him, but this time he wanted me to come to help Booker feel comfortable.

I had never been through any type of physical search before, so having someone pat me down, then go through a full body scan was a little terrifying. I’m a child, did they think I was going to try and smuggle something in? At the same time, I understood why they were being so thorough. I had read about some families using children to bring in contraband, but I could officially say that this was not the case.

In the family room, we waited for Uncle Elijah to come. When the guard finally escorted him in with his hands cuffed in front of him, we were left with an hour to visit with him.

“One hour, Morgan,” the guard reminded him as he took the handcuffs off.

Uncle Elijah gave him a grave stare as he massaged his wrists. Surprisingly, the officer lowered his head, then took a step back. Even confined within that hellhole, Uncle Elijah still had clout. He silently dismisses the officer before scanning the room to find us. Once he did, Uncle Elijah approached the table we were sitting at, never taking his eyes off Booker. When he did stop, Uncle Elijah never sat, but instead told Booker, “Come here, son.” I knew he could see that Booker was a mini version of himself.

Booker looked over at daddy who nodded for him to do so before getting up from his seat, then went to Uncle Elijah. When he was close enough, Uncle Elijah leaned down and wrapped his arms around him. I don’t know about the people around us but me nor daddy couldn’t help the tears that left our eyes.

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