An Excerpt from My Next Project "Runaway Race"

“I rolled over and felt a dandelion tickle my nose. The damp ground allowed me to wipe sleep from my eyes. I sensed the warmth of the morning sun. There she was, the love of my life, resting with clovers spread across her forehead like a crown. A new day might have offered more closure if I were not a homeless teen hopelessly fighting for our survival. How could I not blame my family for leaving me stranded on the streets in Ohio? My mother became a constant nag after she found out I had a love affair with a girl she called "colored." I hated her for the foul insults she hurled at us.

When my father abandoned our family, Mother took his absence personally. Now I hated him more than my mother could even imagine. I believed he might have let Jasmine and me live with him, but Father had died from a heroin overdose two months earlier. I stopped crying after his death. Watching my father and mother fight through their domestic struggles made me promise to find true love someday. Now I had Jasmine Hartman all to myself. We had more love in our hearts than anyone could ever match.

To clean myself after sleeping in the woods, I walked a few blocks to a gas station to use the bathroom. The Arab clerks rarely complained if I kept their facility clean, as I made sure to do each time. Mohammad and Pyre were both particular about the store’s appearance. Some days, they gave me simple chores and food items as a reward for my work. Mopping and stocking never bothered me, but cleaning the toilets made me gag when I became responsible for puke or worse. I always did whatever I had to do and brought back breakfast for my love. 

I had found nearby restaurants that allowed me to work in exchange for food. My excessive grooming was a daily practice due to the harsh conditions I faced. Knowing that people acted kindly when I did not smell or look dirty, and my clothes had no wrinkles or stains, had led some not to avoid me. Every effort I made instilled virtues I previously lacked because of my upbringing. The only decent person in my family was a cousin who lived a completely different life. Doris had strong family values and parents who protected her from what they knew caused my homelessness. She and Jasmine cleaned hotel rooms for minimum wage. Doris introduced me to this sensual goddess.

The dysfunction in my upbringing came from racist parents. I started dating Jasmine in tenth grade, and her dark skin led my family to violence. I took the abuse my mother gave me personally, so when she forced me onto the streets, I felt a sense of relief. My Caucasian skin did not matter much to me, but Jasmine’s caramel tone and the softness of her embrace made every touch special. After a year on the streets, Jasmine became pregnant. Now, I work three jobs along with the additional side hustles people offered me. I discovered that I loved her more than I loved myself.

Jasmine and I initially searched for abandoned buildings to stay in, but those old structures had hidden dangers that forced us onto the harsh streets of Dayton. I vowed to do whatever it took to protect the mother of my unborn child. She proved herself to me every single time her tears dried, and she stayed by my side. We made love to keep fear from destroying what we built. We condemned a racist world to belong to one another. We prayed to God, asking that He torch every human who wielded hate against us.”