Every time they stopped, they would start right back up again. I was floored when I answered the door four days ago and two police officers proceeded to tell me that my mother was dead. “A drunk driver, coming home from a club, ran straight into your mother’s Ford Taurus with his new Hum-V.” they had explained to me. But I didn’t care how it had happened. All I know was that it had.
My mother was all that I had in the world and I was the same to her. I was a love child. A baby made out of adultery and naivety. My mother was, at the time of my consumption, a waitress. My father an, up and coming architect. My mother had told me the story every time she had gotten drunk. He wined and dined her. Made her feel special the way that no other had and once she dropped the bomb that she had ended up pregnant, he dropped her.
You see up until that minute where my mother had gave my father the information that ruined their relationship, he had never spoke of another woman. But while he was freaking out, he had divulged that he not only had a wife, but two kids, a house with a picket fence, an SUV, and a cute little golden retriever. He had it all and, apparently, then some. Mom told me that after sitting in shock for a while, she let that nothin have it. Called him every name that she felt he deserved and more.
I imagine that it could have never felt good to find out that you were the other woman. I also imagine that it could feel worse to find out that the man that you’re in love with, only thought of you as a late night sin. My mom had explained to me, when she felt that I could understand, that my father had pleaded for her to keep me a secret. He begged her; afraid that if anyone would ever find out, all of his hard work would have been for nothing.
On another night when she was drunk, she told me why she had given him what he wanted.
“I know that it hurts, baby. To not have him love you, the way that he should. God, baby, if you only knew how much it eats away inside of me. But I loved him and sometimes when you’re in love you’ll do things that make you hate yourself.” she said.
I guess that she felt bad for allowing him to just leave without knowing me enough to love me; because for my birthday, ma gave me her word.
Within one year of having that ‘why isn’t daddy here’ talk, mom was clean from alcohol and, occasional, marijuana. She was also back into school getting her business degree. She told me that she was going to make sure that I had things that she never had. She also made sure that I was not only book smart, but street smart too. I knew that her biggest fear was for me to make any of the mistakes that she had made and I made sure that none of her efforts had ever gone unreciprocated or unappreciated.
We had each other and I loved my mother and my best friend with my soul, but she knew that something was missing and I knew that she knew that I knew too. Because before mama had changed our lives around, I would try to see HIM. My father. His name is Roy. I would always beg to see him for Christmas, birthdays, holidays, etc… Mom had initiated a couple of phone calls throughout the years. But that was all that every took place between me and Roy.
In these phone calls I would try to get him to come to my plays or come eat the cake that I had made for him, when I found out that he was now VP of a big architectural company. I had spent some Christmases outside of his house in the car. Mom would rub my head as I watch HIM and his family move around inside. I wanted to go in. I wanted to know Daddy, but that was before he broke my heart. I remember the night that I had decided to hate him.
I was six and was having a birthday party in the park. All of the kids that I had known came and kids that was just at the park had joined in to. I was so happy because I had invited Roy and he had promised me that he would come. He even offered to bring me a present, but I told him all I wanted was for him to have the frosted balloons on my birthday cake. For a kid that is the most selfless thing to do.
I waited at that park all day. Everyone had left and I just knew that he was going to come. I was going to finally get to come inside of his world. It was getting dark and ma had already put the left over stuff and presents in the car. She had cleaned up every piece of trash in the area to. We sat there on that bench waiting. I just knew that he was going to come. Mom keep talking to me about little things that she knew would lift up my spirits, but she knew that he wasn’t coming, and she waited with me anyway.
We talked and waited out on that bench on that cold and dark night. Talking about everything that a six year old girl could talk about. It got to the point where I was on her lap yawning and begging her for five more minutes every five minutes. I guess I finally got it, because while mommy was talking about a new Barbie that she wanted to get me, I began to ball. I cried until she picked me up and carried me to the car. I fell asleep in the back seat of the car crying and asking her “Why doesn’t he love me, mommy? Why!?”
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: The events that take place in this prose are all fictional and the recognizable characters in it does not belong to me nor do I know them. Also all of the unpublic charaters are mine. Thank you.
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Leake is the author of 2 other stories.
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