I remember the first time i realized how perfect my family looked to me, I was five when thoughts had started to find their way to form pictures in my head.
i had always been an innocent observer, stumbling into their doey-eyed and sweet syrupy moments, but this memory always rang clear in my head .
We were in my room , playing with my toys, the trains rendering their steadily increasing chugging sounds as they went round the room, Mom and I trying to build a house from the building blocks , pressing our heads together as we laid on the floor not caring about the state of our clothes, nothing could have pulled our attention from the important task at hand.
Dad had somehow creeped on us as he whispered in her ears. "can someone tell me what's going here Amelia?" he was on his haunches beside mom looking at the big house we were trying to build.
Startled, Mom giggled out loud, swatting Dad's hands that had somehow found a way to her ear as he tried to pull her towards him, we were all in my room playing with my toys, Mom deciding to play with me also keeping an eye on me while Dad came lookiing for her, probably bored without her, he always made sure she stayed in his orbit.
Dad always said he fell in love in Mom and knew he was going to marry her the third time they had met, but had to prove to her that he was the one for her . They didn't date until two years of being friends then married four years later.
He said the effort he put, made their courtship worthwhile, gave him a certain resilience he didn't know he needed in his life.
He wasn't an affectionate man by any means, unable to communicate or be vulnerable but always giving in whenever it came to Mom, she somehow brought out his humane side, which made him playful and sometimes mischievous, giving rare smiles and finding ways to always touch her.
He was a busy man, a perfectionist when it came to work but when he stayed home, he tried to spend time with his family as much as he could and managed to leave the workaholic behind, all because of his wife.
He had been on the phone for hours for work reasons, now was probably trying to relax so he came looking for his "breath of fresh air" as he always called her.
"Jonathan, stop it , he is watching us" she sounded breathy from all the kisses he had been giving her, trying to keep a stern face but failing miserably.
"Amelia just look at him, he is smiling ryt now, he loves it" he removed a wisp of her dark curls that always seemed to find a way through her low bun, her baby hairs always crimpling up.
When she did see that I really was smiling, causing a smile so bright that her skin turned splotchy with her usual red tinged nose which never failed bring out a rare smile from Dad, he kissed her nose, and patted my auburn curls.
In that moment, I could feel the happiness radiating in our faces.
He carried me while leading her out of my nursery room. we were sooo happy and perfect, little did I know, a storm was incoming, planning to leave an unrecognizable wreck in our blissful lives.
My Father, Jonathan Francis ,tall, darkskinned, bit of muscle but lean defined legs, a nod to his experience with physical labour.
With deep roots to Africa,his ancestors were slaves brought from Africa during the 17th century to Louisiana, a state ruled by French colonists, later passed to the spanish colonials before being sold to the United States, he was told by his father who was told by his father, passing down our history of how Africans came on several ships to Louisiana to serve the french colonials, how they practiced chattel slavery, selling us like livestock so they had to deal with different forms of obstacles and oppression before finally peacefully coexisting with each other.
He was lucky to be born after the slavery ended, his father told him all the time, he never got to experience what his ancestors did, but he was familiar with the aftershocks of all that had occurred for his people.
By the time Dad was 13 years, black Louisiana's rose up against segregation more forcefully, mainly discrimination as part of the nationwide civil rights movements.
Growing up to realize that you had certain restrictions, limitations because you were a certain skin color.
He had been instilled with a sense of hard work and perseverance which made him proud of his achievements, it wasn't easy being one of the wealthiest men in the world when you came from his background. He was told by his father, who was told by his father, about how labour, oppression and subjugation was all that they knew, the colonial masters never considered who cultivated their coffee or their sugar?, when it was obvious that slave labor had become an integral part of their lives and that of their masters.
The benefits of all their sweat, blood and tears were at their most obvious in the profits and wealth of the great planters and merchants: in the fabulous mansions in New Orleans, Charleston, or in the eighteenth-century British stately homes, so he definitely never forgot where he came from.
He spent some of his time tucking me in, telling me about our African history and how the men in our family were always meant for greatness.
I could feel the sadness rolling off him in waves whenever he spoke of our "roots" as he liked to say.
I always felt a sense of closeness whenever he told me of our struggles during my bedtime stories, I say "our" because it felt like something we shared cause we shared the same blood.
I never understood the meaning behind his words, just happy we had something we shared, just the two of us, even though we never really experienced these stories, our ancestors did , but we became a part of that history and still are.
"Josh my boy, hardwork and perseverance will always reward you in the end, that's one of the important qualities we had as a people, always remember that" he always stared me in the eyes, his brown eyes saying so much that I had yet to understand at that young age.
" That's all we have ever known, to be able to get to where we are today, we always have to work harder than the next person and be better"
"You won't face much struggles because the world is a bit kinder to us and hopefully will be better once you are older"
It was something we shared together, making his stories feel like our little boy club that Mom couldn't join.
It made me feel closer to him because though I looked more like him, we didn't share the same color of skin.
His, as dark as coals from the underground mines, with a sheen that only wealth afforded you, mine, a lighter version, tan and brown like Mom's irises in the house.
My father wasn't born into wealth but he worked hard in life, grew a love for construction, created his company, Jollin Constructions, which he built from the ground up through sheer hard work backed up by patience.
He was business oriented, focused, a generous and fair boss, caring in his aloof way, intelligent and resourceful with a range of networks accumulated over the years through his dogged perseverance.
He married into more wealth also when he met my Mother.
Amelia Genevieve Chaumont ,the result of a union between a French Comte who married the daughter of a spanish official.
it was a transaction to keep the families powerful, the couple turned into friends and occasional lovers who cared for one another and built a powerful stand .
It resulted in a very tall, beautiful blue eyed daughter, paleskinned with raven colored tresses, dark as midnight.
She had lost her mother, Natalia Hernandez while she was a teenager but her Father, comte de la Faustian Chaumont raised her with the help of her grandmother, Esmeralda Hernandez.
Apparently i met her when I was a baby, the memory is too fuzzy to recall her features, Mom had a special relationship with her.
Mom had been taught to be strong willed, resilient by her father, but always with a kind heart by grandma esme, as Mom liked to call her.
It helped that they actually cared what Mom wanted, so they let her choose who she wanted to be with.
Mom was a very gentle soul, always kind towards everyone even the undeserving, I believe she extended that kindness due to what she witnessed growing up. she saw a lot of unjust treatment, it never failed to keep her aware of just how lucky she was to be born with a lot of privilege, also a bit more freedom for a lady.
That's one of the reasons Dad loved her so much, she never treated him differently despite his background, instead she was curious about the man who was persistent in his pursuit of her, who wasn't afraid to go for what he wanted, and the rest they say is history.
Mom lost two babies before finally having me so she named me Damien meaning "to tame" because she felt that my birth had finally put an end to all the pain she had gone through but also cause she went through a hard time when I was still a baby, making her all the more grateful for having me during that tough period.
She always said it with a faraway look in her eyes, like she had just gone into the past , and her voice would struggle to hide the sadness that came with it.
I always tried to distract her with my childish acts, trying to bring her back to me , my curiosity about the cause of her dark mood only waning.
She owned distilleries from both her parents ,
it was a conglomerate that was created from the joining of two powerful families together.
They pooled their resources together to stand as a united powerful front as a form of protection for both families.
Agave and wheat grown for tequila, whiskey and grapes grown for the wines and cognacs. The farms and recipes were from her mother's side, passed down to every girl in every Hernandez generation .
she got from her Father Monsieur de Comte Faustian, the name Chaumount Distilleries and lands of which they were several locations all over the world, distributing all over the world their bottles of Cognac, Whiskey, Tequilla and Wine.
She was in charge of the one we had in Hine and overseeing the locations in Louisiana that catered to the whole of the state .
She was more hands on in Hine Parrish and did regular check ups with the ones in other parrishes.
She would hold my hand once we walked out of the car , open the large dark cherry wood doors of the distillery, explain what we were looking at and the process taking place in each room we visited.
I was always in awe whenever I stared at the large oak casks , the aged brown colored cylindrical barrels giving off a rich aroma in the air.
I would always look at the oak barrels that housed the juices extracted from the fruits, they transferred certain aromas to the room itself
each room letting me know what was in each room.
Always a floral scent with a rich wood smell that greeted me when I reached the room storing the aged anejos and reposados,the years lending them a golden colour of the tequilas.
A dark forbidden flavour like blackberries, cherries always the subtle presence of vanilla and woodsy smell for the longer and darker wines.
Spicy notes like ginger, saffron and woodsy hint of tobacco and cedar wood in the cognac.
The distillation process of making every one of them would be explained to me.
"This is your legacy joshua, never forget it, passed down to each generation, so you have to pass it down to your children" she would end her familiar speech with a squeeze of my hands and smile.
" Just breathe it in, all that glorious smell in the air. can you smell it?"
I would get this feeling of joy, staring as she started talking of how the juices extracted are stored for a long time in the wooden containers.
She really loved coming here and telling me the stories, I just loved that we were doing something together.
"I wish I could have gotten you a sibling and she had been a girl "she said so wistfully.
"so you could have told your daughter just like grandma told you about the recipes right?" I finish softly, sad for her that she never got to share that.
"but you get to share what you and your dad share also because he has also wanted a son but still shared it with you all the same" I reply sadly as I fondly remembered Grandpa Faustian,
his absence still a small stab to my heart even though it has already been two years
"Yeah, Grandpa was so happy when you were born you should have seen him, he was always looking for ways to hold you a lot when you were so little, he liked spending time with you whenever he visited" she replied with a choked sob, barely managing to hold it in
Grandpa loved travelling a lot, all over the world, he always said he wasn't one to settle in a place for too long calling himself a wandering bird, but he spent a lot of time visiting us during his last years, revealing me with stories of his adventures, it was almost like he knew his time was almost up
"c'mon honey let's go and say hi" she squeezed my hand gently her eyes trying to match my already piqued up energy that surged through me whenever we went to visit our barrels.
It was just made of three sections. one for each alcohol spanning on seventy years , which was used for parties, that Mom and Dad liked to throw and also carefully curated our wine cellar every six months.
it was an hobby for them, they would make a whole day of it with the picking of the years, their personal favourites, transporting from the distillery to the house and artfully arranging them. they communicated weirdly with wine often spitting out years and weird names.
We walked for a bit, a little excitement already in the air, the temperature became a little different once we entered a large door.
We stared at each other then took large sniffs to get all that faint scents ready to burst out the door.
Nutty flavours like walnut, toasted almonds all mixed with spices and huge dose of burnt wood transferred heavily from the oaks barrels.
We moved instinctively to the wine room which gives off more wood and fruity scents and earthy notes.
"ok let's say hello to our babies" Mom said with a huge cheer in her voice as we stop at three huge barrels standing right in the middle of rows of barrels.
They were way larger than the rest of the barrels.
I traced my fingers down the length of the cylindrical wooden casks with leather hoopings surrounding the crown of the browned out containers.
"Hello Al Pacino, Micheal Jordan and"
"Sandy olsson" mom rubbed her so gently with affection in her eyes.
The names holding special meanings and memories to her.
We held hands and watched as bottles were corked, from the barrels and put in a crate along with a few other, this was a quick pick up.
As we walked back, mom continued with "facts" as she called them of distilling your beverages and the beautiful end result of a painstaking process.
This was something we all loved to do together as a family.
Mom and I, for the distillation process and stories of recipes taught by her family passed down to me so we spent a lot of time together watching the process.
Dad, just to watch mom happily talk about her work which she was so passionate about so he often indulged her, found out he enjoyed wine tasting, so they found their special hobby.
We spent some of our time as a family at the brewery in our Parrish.
she always got us hooked on the tales of how her father and mother used to visit their locations around the world, taking her along sometimes , teaching her about the distillation process, how she often followed them to exhibitions of their finished products then later with her grandma esme when her mother died.
It finally became a way for them to spend time together, between her and her Father, often going for auctions of their special aged beverages all over the world.
Faustian Chaumont had a very amicable loving friendship and marriage with Natalia, "Tally" Hernandez as he liked to call her.
She left too soon, so he decided to have a closer relationship with his daughter once she died, and so she had a parent who tried to be a friend more, to make up for the loss of a mother .
It resulted in a liberal but loving relationship and also a bit more freedom than ladies were given at the time right from an early age.
He tried to spend more time with her when he wasn't travelling the world which led to their shared love for visiting the distilleries and their little dates of attending wine auctions all over the world once she became old enough.
Grandma Esme on the other hand was the stern hand that helped model mom into the elegant woman who is full of love to give, also why mummy had a faint spanish lilt despite looking sooo pale, manners and aesthetics of two different European countries.
She often spoke to mom in Spanish even though mom always replied in English, but sometimes mom indulged, that's why she has a very faint accent.
She was very close to grandma esme and was said very sad when she died, that's what Dad told me because I was very little when she died.
She lived with adults that never failed to remind her to take advantage of the upbringing and wealth she was afforded with stern yet steady love from her grandma esme.
Now they were no more in her life, her father passing away two years ago.
Mom tells me all the time now that Dad and i are the only family she has left.
Mom loves horticulture and instilled in me her love for plants, we would spend hours making sure each plant got the love and care they required, she preferred that the plants were in the open air to receive their nutrients naturally, refusing to put them in a confined space so they were dotted all over our compound.
I remember when we were outside our sprawling two storey mansion, there are large patches right in front of the house filled with pots of various plants like the sunflowers,lilies, louisiana phlox, venus flytrap and black eyed susans.
She kept these plants out front and they drew you in with their clash of colours, beautiful in a artful way.
We always got curious stares filled with grudging appreciation for the variety we had, people would always stare in awe whenever they entered our compound.
" why do you keep these ugly plants that are dangerous beside the beautiful plants mommy, are you sure they won't eat them up?" I asked as we watched a fly perch on a long stem and get swallowed immediately.
She laughed so loudly " Do you really think they will eat up the beautiful plants?" we kept shovelling the dirt up with our gloved hands
"Yes, they are not supposed to stay together" I shook my head in response
" I don't think so baby, always remember just because one is born differently doesn't mean one can't be beautiful or produce beautiful things so why should we separate them from others" she said to me with a smile as we watched insects get swallowed into a cup shape displaying it's dangerous beauty all at once.
" People who are different are often misunderstood in general, it takes one brave person to welcome them into the fold and others will follow"
"Like you did with Dad?" I asked
"Yes, like i did with your Dad" she replied with a loud laugh, ruffling my hair gently
"I like how the sundew tricks the insects with the sweet smelling nectar so it can eat it up once it settles on it" I said quietly as I took in the spectacle as it happened, Mom watering the other flowers nearby.
She always said the flowers made our guests feel very relaxed and happy, I believed her.
Our house would be filled with scents of jasmine from the large orchids and countless butterwort we had inside, it caught errant flies in the house anyways, the lime green leaves always clashing graciously with the browns of the orchids.
I always felt a pull towards the dangerous plants, fascinated about how they were also predators in their own right, luring their prey with their sweet yet dangerous nectar, going in for the attack once the prey is hooked.
Watching it happen was beautiful and poetic at the same time, it happened so fast you were left confused, wondering if you were really a witness.
It reminded me that life was full of powerful and weak in every living form that existed and it was part of their everyday life just like these plants trying to survive the way they know how to.
Mom would watch me with a sad smile as I focused on the scene playing out, like she already had an inkling that dark things called out to me.
But I always saw love in those eyes, like she couldn't help loving me inspite of what she saw or knew, I loved her more in these moments.
My mind has always been filled with dark thoughts that I struggled not to voice out for fear that I would scare people off. Mom was the only one I could talk to without fear. she tried to understand me, even Dad sometimes looked at me weirdly, with a hint of fear? disgust? I had no idea but he had questions in his eyes sometimes.
I remember "The Incident" when my parents truly saw how different i was from the other kids
I had a pet rabbit named Bubbles, i had no attachment towards it, Mom bought him simply cause she thought i wanted him, she had seen me watching him through the window of a pet store, but I was just curious about his red eye, I had never seen that eye color in any living creature.
The red a dark interesting colour hidden inside a mix of white and light rown furry limbs, he was chubby too, So Bubbles!.
My curiosity finally got the best of me and I had to see what was behind the red eyes so I took my fork and dug in my bunny's eye without thinking, the thought alone spurring me on but stopped, startled by the gasp I heard .
" Oh My God Joshua Damien Francis, what did you just do to this poor creature?" Mom wailed like she was the one in pain, looking at me as I held a bloody fork with his eyeball almost out, a soft wailing sound from Bubbles .
she had always been kind towards people and animals even plants.
" I just wanted to know how Bubbles got his red eyes, mummy don't cry I will clean up the mess i made in my room" i replied innocently as my bunny cried in pain and my fingers coated
in blood.
Dad obviously heard her cry out and rushed out to find out the cause of her distress only stopping short as he reached my room.
" What the hell happened here Amelia, why is he covered in blood and can someone keep the bunny quiet?" He asked as he rocked Mom in his arms, he was always in tune with her emotions in some weird but sweet way.
" Joshua tried to pluck out Bubble's eyeball,
didn't you ?"Mom asked with concern thick in her voice, already sounding far off
" What? Joshua start talking" Dad shook mommy to bring her gaze back to him.
" I just wanted to see why Bubbles has red eyes, he is not like us, I am sorry Mommy. please don't cry" I was feeling troubled seeing mom so sad , distant.
"What you did was a very bad thing Joshua, do you know that?" Dad asked me sternly
"umm yes I do"
" Joshua my love, listen to me, you don't harm people or animals who are weaker than you Ok? not to satisfy your curiosity. You lend a helping hand to those weaker than you. always remember that" Mom took my bloodied hands in her shaking hands as she explained to me, before giving me a tight hug, desperately trying to hold in her sobs.
I was asked to go clean up and Bubbles was carried away.
I stared at my hands streaked with red, interrupted by mom as she held my hands and washed them in the sink.
she told me to change my clothes while she cleaned up the bathroom, leaving my room with the fork.
For the first time in forever, there was tension in the house and Mom wasn't happy with Dad because she spent the whole day with me locked in my room refusing to talk to him.
After a heavy dinner, I went to my room to take my bath and brush my teeth, deciding to go say sorry to them in their room.
"Amelia what just happened isn't normal for a seven yr old and you know it"
"Jonathan Francis, I don't want to hear it ok, there is nothing wrong with my baby" she wrapped her arms around herself refusing him as he tried to hold her in some form, trying to form a connection with her, she looked a bit troubled.
"okay, okay calm down, just listen to me" he tried to calm her down, pulling her into his arms.
" Listen, maybe we could try making him do sports in school, let him get engaged to release his pent up emotions or any rage he might have"
" Don't you dare , I won't let you put my baby through that. He is just a little different from others but he is a good boy .
We will talk to him first about it but we just need to show him the right way to be curious and to care " she replied, pulling away from him in defense of me.
"Start by talking to him, Melia he won't open up to us, did you see how unaffected he was about the whole situation? he doesn't even think he did anything wrong "
"Let's talk to him first about it, no rush into sports unless he wants it, he might be different but he is still our baby boy. let us handle this carefully"
" Okay, but I won't treat him kid gloves because he is quite ahead for his age. I will be gentle with the sports.
"we have the resources to take care of him so we just make use of them efficiently "
"Look at how you are discussing how to handle your child, Johnny" she looked at him with a brief stare of betrayal and obvious pain in her eyes.
"Melia, look at me, I love him too but he needs a bit of a stern hand to give him focus, you are his mother so you would always want to protect him in blankets if you could"
"I have to make the tough decisions in this regard pertaining to him ok" his hands framed her splotchy face , red tinged nose as he smiled sadly at her
Mom nodded and pulled away leaving him in the room, I ran into my room before she could catch up to me.
I felt responsible for her sadness so I held her face in my tiny hands and made a vow to her after she was done reading me a bedtime story, about to say kiss me good night.
"Mummy, I promise, I won't do that again, I am sorry. please don't be sad"
" Joshua listen to me, you are always going to feel different from others, always remember that it doesnt have to be a bad thing as long you know the difference between right and wrong" "And I love you no matter what" she gave me a watery smile, her face so large in my hands yet fragile in that moment.
"No matter what mommy?" I asked
" No matter what, because you are my son so I know you will do the right thing" she ruffled my hair before giving me a hug
I decided then and there to always suppress my thoughts and never be the source of the sadness I saw in her face. it was worth it if I got to make her smile and look at me with so much unconditional love. I could do anything for her.
I gave Bubbles away, looking at his missing eye reminded me of the day i made Mom so sad.
I was so sure he was terrified of me, always in a race to escape the room whenever he noticed my presence
There was a shift in the house after that incident that no one wanted to talk about, They were never the same towards me, Dad friendly yet apprehensive like I was an enigma he tried to understand and fix.
Mom overprotective to a fault but I understood that it was because she cared too much.
Dad always tried to pretend like nothing changed between us whenever mom was around us.
Things were never the same after the Incident, We could have tried to spend more time together if only we knew , the incident only the beginning of what was to come.
The talk never came.