Empty Jar of Pennies

It was the summer of 1965, I was eight years old. That was when I lived in Opa Locka, Florida. As I stepped outside into the hot sun, I could feel the heat beating upon my dark skin. Through the window of my house I searched for the ice cream truck. When I finally heard the sounds of the bells I rushed outside. I turned around the corner running to my what seemed to be redemption from the heat.

My mouth was dry. Waiting in line with the other neighborhood children, I could almost feel the ice cream chilling my throat, as I pondered my options. My daydreams of strawberry and vanilla swirl were interrupted, "Hey Dennis," Paul shouted, "What's happening?" I replied with my usual childish banter. Paul and I talked about how we were going to purchase the largest ice cream cone available. That's when I realized I only had enough money for a small, plain, vanilla ice cream cone. I put the pennies on the counter, placed my order and waited. I wasn't getting my giant strawberry swirl, but I was the happiest kid on the block. That was the first time I bought ice cream that summer. Grinning from cheek to cheek Paul and I walked back to my house and sat on the front porch.

"I thought you didn't have enough to buy no ice cream. 'Cause I remember yesterday I split mine's with you. You musta really begged your mom this morning, huh Den?" I wondered whether or not I should tell him. My pop was away with my brothers in Nassau. For the past two days it had just been my mother and I. My dad had this big jar of pennies, It was almost filled to the top. I figured he wouldn't miss a few. After all it was a dire situation, his youngest son needed ice cream. So I responded, "Yeah."

The next day I woke up with the same plan in my head. After all it was just a few pennies. Maybe today I can get the strawberry swirl , I thought, it doesn't cost that much. However, I didn't realize how much I was spending. Every day that my father was absent, I depeleted pennies from his jar. I hoped that my father wouldn't notice that after two weeks of frivilous spending that half his jar was gone. But of course, he did.

That evening when my father came home, I overheard a conversation he had with my mother in the kitchen.
"Honey, you didn't take any of my pennies, you know, from the jar?"
"Of course not Lee, what do I want with your dirty pennies," My mother laughed, I was frozen in fear. I snuck back into my room towards the back of our one story house. As soon as I placed one foot in my room, I heard my father call out my full name. That was always a bad sign, It showed I was a suspect of a crime violating one of my father's laws. I stepped out into the hallway and proceeded into the kitchen. I stood with my head down, not wanting to face my father. My mother then said, "Why are you standing here? Dad went into the bedroom."

I walked slowly to my father's room, each step taking longer than the previous. When I stood within the doorway, I squinted my eyes, and took a hard swallow. I figured I might as well suck it up like I always did, and take my beating like a man. I dug down deep and found the strength to look at my father. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the jar of pennies. He opened his mouth, and slowly spoke as daggers of fear flung towards me, "Dennis, did you take any of my pennies out of this jar?"

I wondered in my head what I should say. Sure I could tell the truth and get in trouble, or lie and get in trouble. However, if I lied and he believed me there was a possiblity that I might avoid any punishment. An eight year old really underestimates the intelligence of their parents.

I looked my father square in the eye and said a weak, "no." I saw the frustration in his face. He interrogated me again, "I am going to ask you one more time, did you, Dennis, take my pennies from this jar? Need I tell you that your mother did not and your brothers were with me?"

My heart was racing. Maybe I could still get away with it. I did not want to be hit by my father's thick, black, leather belt. My head was spinning, I felt so confused. So again I whispered, "No."

My father instantly threw dwon the jar. I was shocked at the sound of it shattering on the wooden floor. The pennies dispersed everywhere. My mother ran into the hallway and called out to us to see if everythig was alright. My dad assured her that everything was fine. He stood up, looked at me with his large round eyes, and said, "Get out of my sight."

I ran into my bedroom with tears streaming down my face. My father was so angry, he couldn't beat me. He couldn't even look at me.