Dennis loved his family. Both his fathers loved him to no end. In all his ten years of being alive, his parents never once showed that they had any ill will towards their son. Even when he was given a sister, Annabelle, seven years ago, his parents' love for him never wavered. Despite this, Dennis always felt that his family was different. He’s not referring to the physical differences. He knew that one of his fathers being a white man  and the other being colored did have its own problems.

“Daddy…” Dennis remembered his younger self calling out. “Why does dad sleep with a gun under his pillow?”

Ronsel stopped the repair he was doing on Ms. Diana's stove to look at his son. He didn't answer right away. Rather, he focused heavily on something not in the room. “It's nothing.” Ronsel began looking back at the young boy. “Just a bit of security is all.”

“Why? Is people going to hurt us?”

Ronsel shook his head. “Dennis…there are people out there who don't take kindly to people like us. Your daddy has it to make sure that nothing happens to you or Anna or anyone in this house. You understand that son?”

Now, Dennis didn’t quite understand it fully at that moment but later he soon realized his daddy's words.

It was summer time which means that they were heading back to Marietta. Dennis has been back a few times. He knows the drill by heart now. Though, it doesn't make it easier. Visiting his uncle's place was always the hardest. That's why he is happy they stop their first and it's the shortest. His aunt and uncle are pretty nice people. His cousins love to play with him. His grandfather could be better. But the hardest part of it all was that he couldn't let it slip who he was.

He could pass pretty well with the right clothes. Maybe if someone said something then a person could connect the dots but other than that, he got along well. That was until the final time he saw that side of the family.

“Can you believe those ungrateful niggers.” Pappy, who is somehow living strong, muttered at the family dinner table. “Thinking they should be in the same school as us.”

The gentle clattering of cutlery pauses. The fly on the wall sits on the fluorescent bulb above. It's buzzing, taking a step in the stilling silence. Laura side eyes over to Jaime who in turn tries his best not to acknowledge his own father's words. His nieces also remained quiet. They were quite use to their grandfather's sudden ramblings. 

“Don't worry Pappy. If that happens, I heard the church may be opening a new what was it…vocational institute. Teaches all those skills our girls need to be just women. Don't you agree, Laura?” Henry said.

“I think their school is just fine.” She replied, barely looking up from her plate.

“You want them niggers all over your girls.”, Pappy shot. 

Jaime sets down his cutlery. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to join his husband at the new Jackson residence. He was sure they would be far better company than listening to his father's racist rambling.

This action doesn't go unnoticed by Pappy. “What's the matter with you? Up west made you sympathetic?”

“Not at all. Just lost my appetite.” Jaime replied. He glanced over to his son. “You finish up. We need to head out before night sets in.”

“Jaime…” Henry called out. “None of that. You can just spend the night.”

Jaime shook his head all while rising from his seat. “Nah…perfectly fine brother.” He placed a quick kiss on his nieces’ forehead with a brief wish of luck. Then, he did the same to his sister in law. Gathering his son, he tipped his hat to the men at the table.

“It was lovely seeing you all again.” He pulled his son's hand. “All the best.”

As the pair walked out to their truck, Dennis could shake the feeling of eyes tracking them. The sting of unsaid words trying desperately to engrave themselves into his skin. He couldn't breathe until the truck made it a good distance away from the home.

The Jackson residence was nothing like that. There, he could be himself. He could go outside with his sister and play without the worry of his tan getting too deep. His fathers were able to hug and care for him without looking over their shoulder. Dennis loved to help his grandfather and uncles in the field. The feeling of dirt under his fingernails is something he lacked living in his hometown. He best not forget to mention his grandmother's biscuits.

Florence asked his Daddy to buy some more flour in town. Dennis tagged along with hope to get a sweet from the general store. The young boy knew the drill when he went out with his daddy. Stay outside any store he goes in, don't walk too close to him and most importantly, don't ever address him as his father in public. 

So when his father stepped out of the store, he waited until he was a few feet ahead of him before he followed. The truck parked out of sight. However, Dennis made a fatal mistake. As they approached they got into the truck, Dennis was vibrating in his seat. He could see the silver wrapping of a chocolate in the bag and was beyond happy.

“Later…it's for you and your sister.” Ronsel said as he drove off.

Dennis pouts and settles into his seat. 

“None of that.” 

“Just a little. I won't spoil myself.”  Dennis pleaded.

Ronsel took his attention from the road for maybe a second. In such a short time, another car comes up the road. He doesn't see it until a second too late. He saw the person driving the car too late. The future events sealed within a second.

“Get down!” Ronsel ordered.

Dennis dips his head under the dashboard. The car drives by. Sheriff Thacker and his deputy were staring. He pulls around. The sound of a bell and flashing of light seals their upcoming fate. Dennis' ears grew foggy from the confrontation. One moment his daddy was sitting and talking to the man, the next he was being pulled out of the vehicle by the deputy. He could only stare in frozen fear as they beat his daddy. He wanted to scream but the voice in his head had better sense. To scream would mean to expose them both. 

They hauled Ronsel up by his neck when they finished beating him. He was dragged through the dirt and thrown into the trunk of the car. In the same hand that beat up his father, was the same hand that offered him help into the backseat. 

He felt sick to his stomach and he couldn't show it.