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Overview
Pamela lost her dad when she was three. Later she begins a search to find a grandfather presented by such a loss. Armed with a mission to find him, the facts start to skew. Clues twist and turn; and then entwine to such a degree she bumps into her dad's story. …and learns the only way to find the man fate chose to leave behind is that first she must go through her dad. Both in the search, both on the same path, but forty years apart, do the gods lead them to the one they want so desperately to find. Fourteen and growing up in the streets, Sonny can’t wait to leave; he lives for the day he can put all the shame behind him. But with the hard times that have hit the country and the fact all the kids depend on him…where would he go. It’s not as if he has a direction. All he has in this world is his brother Paul. …and even though Paul has him by a few years, the big guy depends on him too. Naw, labeled bastards since as far back as they can remember…it’s just he and Paul against the rest of them. Forced to be the responsible one, he will bide his time and deal with the chaos and turmoil as it comes. That is until he finds out the secret kept; one that ignites a fire so strong that without thought leads him on a journey that will take him to all but two of the forty-eight states in the Union. Join him on his mission. Share his thoughts. Share his dreams. Life now his school, meet those that help shape the man he grows up to be. Travel with him through a period of time when millions of Americans are on the same path. A period of history now known as the Great Depression, they're all looking for a better life…all that is except one. Sonny isn’t looking for a better life…he is looking for his life. …but they call me Sonny is a book based on a real life. Does he have a dad? If so, where is he? Why would the man take off and leave him alone with Susie? Can he fill the void that aches in his heart? …and is it true, was he robbed of the life he was born to live?
Who are these strangers standing over your grave; ... not knowing your story and you not knowing theirs. We are the ones that know where you lie; ... yet we are the ones that won’t let you die. Maybe this story will comfort our hearts; ... to bring us closer and not so far apart. We always wondered, we were always sad; ... and all we could do is call you Dad.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781426951336 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Trafford Publishing |
| Publication date: | 01/31/2011 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Spending twenty years in construction, Pamela switched directions. She spent twelve years working the Front-end Fraud Division for a major banking firm. Nominated Woman of the Year by Soroptimist International where she held membership, she also is a past member of the American Business Woman Association (ABWA), American Society of Personnel Association (ASPA), and the International Association of Financial Crimes Investigators, (IAFCI). Having served with the Job Service Improvement Program, (JSIP) Pamela was the liaison between Iowa and Washington D.C. Now retired, she lives in Arizona with her husband and family.
Read an Excerpt
... but they call me Sonny
By Pamela A. Clark
Trafford Publishing
Copyright © 2011 Pamela A. ClarkAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4269-2437-8
Chapter One
The Secret
[1]
What's the big deal, noth'n different. It's been this way ever since I can remember ... heck, since any of us can remember.... and it seems to be get'n worse. The girls are get'n older; now they're buy'n into all this ol' crap. Not just a bunch of drunks' hang'n around this stupid place; they got their friends sponge'n off us too. Thoughts take their turn and rush through his head as if to match his steps; back and forth sets the pace as if trapped. Then he stops.... and smashes his fist against the side of the house. He needs to ease the pressure; a way to flee the bedlam brought on by the guy that just kicked him out to the streets.
A quick turn to walk off the pain, Sonny tries to figure out just what went down. To defend his position he pulls back to what led up to this mess. All I wanted was money to buy food for the little boys.... and has to wonder; how bad can that be? Just cause I told 'em they need to give up the booze; that they should spend what money they have to feed the litter of kids they keep pop'n out. But no; guess alcohol is more important. Just wish they'd quit drink'n, that's all. Yeah right, he smirks with sarcasm; we'd all starve to death before that happens. Then stops and props his leg on a wobbly rail.... and heaves a sigh and thinks; now what?
Arm resting on his knee he stares at the street from the wide porch that wraps around this once proud but worn down old house. Thoughts drift as his foot swings on the old rusty trellis where he props his leg. He pulls in and eyes the once black wrought iron frame where vines used to grow, but time and abuse has long since turned to flakes of gray and rust.... and calls to mind how nice the place looked when they first moved here. How proud he felt to live in a place where all the windows opened and closed. Clear glass ones with screens meant to let in fresh air; the ones he now has to keep shut so the noise doesn't wake the neighborhood. Rooms with doors that shut; the doors he learned to lock to keep out the unwanted that roam at night. A home he could bring a friend; a place to show he lived as well as they did. Gone is the carpet of green grass that backed up to the river; a stream with a cove of trees where he kept a line in at all times.... and his dreams of the big catch. The line long since gone, long since lost in a yard full of clumps of dirt and patches of weeds. Worn paths lead to bare bushes once used as an escape; a safe place to hide from all the chaos and turmoil that takes place behind the walls of this whitewashed wood and red bricked house. With all the drunks and all the kids free to run in and out, the place just went to the dogs.... and not one of them cared. Would've take'n more than me to keep it up; only got two hands. With steady eyes, he scans the street. ... and can't help but envy how well kept the other houses look compared to this ol' dump.
A sudden chill causes him to shiver as the wind whips in frenzy. He wonders if it's the cold front predicted to drift in from the northwest; a front that will produce what promises to be an early dark gray overcast sky. A light haze of mist hangs in the air as an occasional gust of wind whips from the corner to penetrate his face.... and as his temper cools, feels the need to seek a protective barrier.
Should've done what Paul did, he rambles; should've gotten out of this ol' pigpen too, but where was I supposed to go. Heck, at least he has a girlfriend to hang out with.... and still bring trapped.
To seek shelter and duck out of the wind he figures his best shot is the front steps. Scarred steps filled with names; hearts meant to dream of better places.... and all placed by silly girls with rocks of chalk. Huddled next to the wall on the concrete steps dark shadows reflect off the trees.... and cast harsh twisted images that seem to threaten. As the night shadows creep close, he snugs his coat, shuts his eyes, and tries to brave the elements that want to invade his secluded refuge. Still dazed, his head roars from the fight he just had with Rex.... and can still feel the hurt in the hand. Upset and sore, he moves on to confused; the life he lives is gone.... and wants to know; where do I go from here; what am I supposed to do?
Dang it's cold out here, takes on a priority as the damp air sets in. One hand rubs the other as he tries to work out the stiffness and thinks; cold to the bone. So what if the place is a drunken chaos; so what if there is no food for the kids. So it's all a big shambles. Big deal; why should I care? ... and why did he pick now; why'd he pick this brutal night?
What's this really all about anyhow, he tries to reason. It doesn't make sense; not as if it's the first time I've opened my mouth around here. There's got to be more behind it; and why tonight of all lousy nights? Why did Rex keep push'n me like that? Now he's gone and tossed me out, tell'n me to stay out and never come back. ... and me being the big jerk; yup, just had to walk right into it. Just had to prove my point and stand my ground; he knew I wouldn't back down. But there's got to be more, and continues to ask, why; why did he keep push'n and push'n. It's as if he set me up; I know he did.
His head buried in his coat, he keeps going over the fight. He recalls how Rex just grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back; then ordered his mom to open the door. He can still hear him yell, "Open the goddamn door, or by god I'll push him through." ... and thinks; almost broke free, but the little boys got in the way. I know they just tried to help, but they could've been hurt. The scene plays out as he tries to make sense of it.... and then as if a bolt out of the blue, it all falls in place.
That's it, he says; and I bet I'm right. Yup, that's got to be it; has to be. I just bet the old man is start'n to be afraid of me. Probably thinks I'll kill him or worse, not that he don't deserve it. The old lush; and Susie is just as bad, she's the one that opened the door. They're both noth'n but drunken old slobs.
Here on the step, he wishes with all his might he could speak with Paul. Not that it would do any good; he wouldn't help. Paul never stands up to them; he couldn't stand up to a flea. A deep breath seems to pull him in. But at least he might be able to talk them into let'n me back in. Lost in words, he tries to figure out what to do. What the heck am I supposed to do? Just how many places do these people think I have to choose from; just where do they think I can go?
[2]
A loud noise brings him back.... and then recognizes the unexpected familiar voice as the door slams. "What are you doing? Why are you out here in weather like this? Don't you know enough to get out of the cold; it's got to be close to freezing. This is the kind of stuff that can make you sick.... and what's with the door, why is the darn thing locked?"
Breathing into cupped hands to keep warm, Sonny slowly looks up. With a look of anguish, he turns. Uncertain of what's going on, he wonders; where'd she come from? How'd she get here; I didn't hear her pull up.... and figures; she must've pulled in from the alley.
Coming out the front door, walking towards him as she snugs her coat to her neck, is Aunt Margaret. Heading his way, he once more has to wonder; how'd they get to be sisters; never did think they looked alike. An image of his mom's tall, slim frame and blonde hair flash through as he thinks; how'd this one get so short? As she nears, more thoughts run through; she sure don't dress like her sister; not in those clothes. Susie wears all that tight stuff; then has to paint up her face; likes to make her lips red.... and piles all that hair on her head; says it makes her round face look longer.... and shows off her blue eyes. A long sigh and he thinks; and here's plain Aunt Margaret; always seems to dress as if she's go'n to church. This close, he notices she has cut her straight brown hair and thinks; she chopped it off again. She leans against the rail as he sums it up; but at least she's real.... and stares into her best feature ... her warm brown eyes. The way he sees it, not only don't the two look alike; the way they act, you wouldn't know they grew up in the same house.
For some reason his aunt is special in his life. He doesn't know her that well, but with what time he has spent with her, she just seems to care how he feels.... and knows she goes out of her way to check on him. He doesn't know much about her life, but knows it is different from theirs. A few years back when she first showed up he noticed how Aunt Margaret seemed to carry herself with what he heard called dignity. He knows she works hard, and seems to be the responsible one as he thinks; a lot more than Susie. This one knows what to do; she doesn't need any of them. No sir, he affirms; not her; she does things her way. With that, he recalls the first time he thought of it.... and had figured out all on his own; the world accepts her more than the rest of us.... and can't help but grasp; she absolutely doesn't cherish the thought of being around this part of her family. That's why he's so puzzled.... and wonders; so why is she here; and why on a night like this?
He listens to her why's and can't help but think; I have my own whys; maybe I should ask her the same thing. But not in the mood to exchange empty words, instead tries his best to throw her off. "So," he shrugs; "What's go'n on; why are you here? Didn't hear you pull up; kind of out of your territory, ain't you?"
"Just passing by," come the usual words, but does pick up what she says next. "We just decided to stop; and it looks like a good thing too! What the heck happened in there? The place is a disaster; worse than normal. The furniture is scattered all over the place." She rubs her hands and sticks them in coat pockets. "... and the kids; never seen them so upset," she tells him. "So don't ask me what's going on; I'm the one asking the questions.... and it's time to fess up."
Not wanting to involve her; besides, he knows she can't do a thing to change it.... and he is embarrassed. He hates it when his family acts like Riverview rats; at least that what he has heard them called. Or the one he heard the other day when the kid called him, "Poor white trash." ... and thinks; right before I beat the crap out of him. So with a deep breath decides to do what he has done so many times. He sucks it up and throws on his tough-guy mask.... and needs to sound as normal as possible.
"Pass'n by; yeah, right," he smirks. "... and on a night like this. Besides, you're never in our neck of the woods, so who you try'n to kid?" Then with a slight tease, looks up and throws out a sly grin. "... and who's this we you're talk'n about," he asks. Thinking he pulled it off, he leans back with a proud sigh and burrows his chin in the top of his coat.
"Never mind the we young man; I'm the one out here freezing," she snaps. "I want to know what the heck happened. I just stopped to bring you kid's food." Her face grows pundit. "You may not think I know what's going on, but I know enough that I didn't want you all to be hungry too. Then I find you out here; just wanted you to come in and eat. That's when I found the door locked.... and from the inside! So you might as well come clean; I'm not leaving until you tell me."
"Too bad you didn't show up sooner," said as if put out by her timing; "Would've saved a lot of trouble." A slight pause to think turns him to the street. "I guess it doesn't matter," he all but shrugs; "Bound to happen sooner or later."
"What doesn't matter?" She probes. "What are you talking about; what in God's name ever mattered in this place? I never thought they cared one way or the other; at least that's the impression I've had." ... and leans against the support pole to block the wind.
"Well someone cared tonight," he manages to sound ironic. "The ol' man and I just got through rearrang'n the place;" and throws out; "Again." Then heaves a sigh and lets it slip. "But I think I might've done it up good this time." His voice cracks; and has to stop and stare off to regain control.
"Did what up good?" She asks as it dawns on him; guess she is hang'n on to every word I say.
"Rex and I," he fires back. "We just had a knockdown drag 'em out fight, and he went and kicked me out of the house. Pushed me out here yell'n and swear'n; told me not to come back. That's when he locked the door!" ... and feels his anger creep back.
Quiet for a few seconds has him breathe deep; and then lets out a hopeless sigh and slumps in defeat. "I don't know," he throws out, and as if confused repeats; "I don't know," and stares off. No words heard draw him back. "Now I'm stuck out here," he says; "Guess I need to figure out what the heck I'm supposed to do." ... and waves her off as not to waste her time.
He can tell she is cold; the wind is doing the same thing to her as it did to him, whipping at her face. He wants her to go in and get out of the cold; that he will be fine, he just needs time to figure out what to do. But instead, she seems to want to join him on the step. What's she up to; he wants to know; why didn't she go in? What can she do; it's not her problem. She don't need to be here. Oh well, he shrugs; guess she wants to show me she's on my side.
[3]
With her next to him, he once again listens to how frustrated his aunt is with her sister. What she says, he has heard her say more than once. "How in the world can Susie let that man treat her own flesh and blood this way? She can't let Rex do this to you; she needs you." Margaret has told him she knows he is the one that keeps all the kids together. She knows he is the one that feeds them; worries about them and protects them. She had said then he was too young to be this responsible.... and there was a time she would want to know where Paul is, but noticed she didn't ask tonight. Maybe she knows he ducked out as usual; Paul always takes off and avoids the issues. Tonight though, she seems different; a few things seem to be new. He listens to how stupid her sister is; and if his mom would just change her ways, how much more they could have. Then she just starts to fire away. Goes on with how pretty the girls look these days; and she hopes they can stay out of trouble. She has a new way to tell the twins Morris and Mornie apart. She mentions Ronnie's tight curly black hair; and then thinks Junior seems way too quiet these days. She does think Paul should be here as she speaks of his Roman face, olive skin, brown eyes, and sturdy build. But when she starts on him, he feels strange. He doesn't know how to take it; he didn't know he is cute. The big deal she makes of his cherub face; a face like his mom's, but does seem to be taking on a new look.... and envies his clear bronze skin, with his deep blue eyes and thick black hair. He didn't know he had thick brows, or that his lashes extend out to shadow his face, and then curl back over his eyelids. She worries he's on the thin side and thinks he should eat more. "Might just be a stage," she tells him; "In time you will fill out." ... and is sorry she can't help; that all she can do is sit and listen.
He can't help but wonder; what's with her; why she talk'n like this, and turns towards her. Just as he starts to speak, she changes her tune.... and doesn't give him a chance to say a word.
"Well," she sighs with contempt. "None of this is a surprise. I wondered how long it would take; hard to believe you both could last this long in the same house. This has been a long time coming; knew it was just a matter of time." When she stops, he has to wonder if she ran out of things to say. Huddled together they sit quietly on the step. They listen as the bluster of the wind disturbs the trees while their eyes draw to the warm lights of the neighbors. One by one as each house comes to life they watch silhouettes dance across the shades. Deep in thought, they do their best to keep warm; and snug the coats tighter to their ears. All while they try to figure out what he needs to do next; what are his options.
Margaret breaks the silence. "Might be a good time to go stay at your;" and is quick to stammers her words. "Ah, I mean;" and then is quick to change course. "You could come and stay at my place," she just throws out. "Or hang out with some of your friends on the off chance things cool down here at home." A short pause gives her time to think, but so does he. Good time to stay where; he wants to know. Why did she quit? Why didn't she finish? But has to draw back. "Maybe you could stay out here," she taunts; "At least till you freeze to death."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from ... but they call me Sonny by Pamela A. Clark Copyright © 2011 by Pamela A. Clark. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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