A Harlem Metanoia Story ©

AHMS| EAST 140TH STREET

read with white background.

Why did she feel this way about someone who had done the deed, to which most; deemed unforgivable?

Why did she feel safe when he wrapped his arms around her, and at home when he was in close proximity?

Some would say that undoubtedly; the man she loved, cherished and bared for, was a monster.
A vile, inhumane human being, but to Jaiyaah, a woman who had only seen the kindhearted Jacobi Santos, he was a man, who among many others, simply; wasn't perfect.

The story commenced on September 15, 1991. The day Jacobi Santos, or as she liked to call him; JB was born.

Weighing four pounds, twelve ounces, Jacobi entered this world with already; nothing to live for.

His mother; a 16 year old modern day Jezebel, being the only family he knew. She of course; much like many other teen moms; was not equipped mentally, physically or financially to bear the burden of a child.

Instead of being the mother that her child needed, Ibiza took the easy route out, turning to drugs and sex to distract her from the realities of life.

Her negligence left Jacobi; a helpless newborn feigning for any affection he saw. The streets of Spanish Harlem, New York was the first and only place JB received just that.

At the age of five, after his mother had lost sight of  actuality entirely; he met Spookie.
He was the King of East Harlem, and all of its occupants.

To them Spookie was a heartless, killer and drug dealer, but to Jacobi, he was an idol, a confidant, and a father. He was the only person who had nurtured and cared for him, even with the two being of no blood relations. He fed him on days when his mother was too strung out to do so, clothed him when Ibiza had spent all of their monthly checks on crack, and even gave him a place to stay on nights when listening to his mother and men drowned out everything else around him.

It had became something like second nature for Jacobi to depend on Spookie, whom he later postulated to be his father. Until one stormy night, which deprived the young 15 year old of any and every chance of happiness he had once premised.

On September 15, 2006, Jacobi Smith sat frantically awaiting the arrival of his father. Clad in a black and red 'Truckfit' set, that had been gifted to him merely a year earlier, JB swung his legs in and out; anxiously watching the front door for any form of movement.

It was his fifteenth birthday, and much like every other year; Spookie had made it his mission to always treat him to a father-son day.

Except on this particular day, after much refuting; Jacobi was going to finally take his father up on the offer of moving in, which due to his mother; he hadn't previously agreed upon.