Читать книгу God's Broken Lil' Baby - E. Jay Ford - Страница 13

Chapter 15

15 Momma’s Baby, Daddy’s Maybe

I Close My Eyes

I close my eyes and make it quiet.

I close my eyes to turn the projects to a field of dreams.

I close my eyes, and my room is luxurious.

I close my eyes, and my cheesy clothes change into the latest fashion.

I close my eyes to wish that wish.

I close my eyes, and my father is here.

I close my eyes to find beauty and joy.

I close my eyes to live the life I’ve worked so hard to live.

I close my eyes to pretend things are better than what they seem.

It’s morning, time to open my eyes, back to reality.

I was living with my granny and granddaddy in Indianapolis. I was a sophomore at Ben Davis High School. I loved living with my grandparents, but I hated living in Indianapolis. It was the worst place in the world as far as I was concerned. This was actually my second time living here. I loved living with them more than I hated Indianapolis, Indiana. The city was depressing. There were all these prejudice white people, and they were mean. It was only four hours from East St. Louis and still the Midwest, but for some reason, it was colder. This particular stay found to be my most painful stay I had experienced this far. Shit happened that made me question my whole existence. Words are so powerful. No matter how strong you think you are, if you allow the words you hear to control you, they can destroy you. These words shut me all the way down.

I was hanging with my one of my uncles this particular night. We were in Coppertree Apartments. That’s where favorite auntie lived. We had some of our people in town for a visit. I don’t remember their names because they were always referred to as the Bush’s and the Berry’s. They were all sitting around in the living room talking, drinking, and smoking when one of them turned to me and told me that he knew my real daddy. Normally, the kids were not allowed to sit around grown folk when they were talking. I wish they had thought of that rule that night. I knew that he knew my daddy, so what was he talking about. They all grew up together in the projects. I’ve heard some of the stories a thousand times. Of course, with a confused look on my face, tell him I already know that. He responded, “Not that daddy, your real daddy.” I’m stunned because I don’t know what the hell he was talking about. What real daddy? My daddy is the only daddy I know. I looked around the room, and everyone was in agreement about this “real daddy.” Conversation immediately switched to how my mommy should be ashamed for not telling me about real daddy. I went deaf. The pounding in my ears of what I just heard blocked all words.

I’m now holding back tears harder than I have ever done in my life. I didn’t know what to think. I had started thinking about everything that I thought I had known about my parents, my siblings, my life. All the times that I have felt I didn’t fit became a conformation to me at that very point. That feeling that my mommy treated me worse than she treated my siblings suddenly became an “I know why now” situation. I wasn’t his child, so she didn’t like me as much became my immediate feeling of resentment. I was angry and hurt all at the same time. I was mad at these assholes for telling me some shit like this like it was no big deal. I was mad at my mommy for keeping such a secret. I was mad at everybody. How many of my family members knew and never said anything to me? The betrayal was too much for me to bare.

Family is everything to me. That feeling of not belonging was crushing me. I sat through the rest of that visit stoic. I was numb, and I needed to talk to my mommy, I needed her to ease this pain. I didn’t even understand the pain. Why did I even give a fuck? Neither of the dudes had done shit for me. One I had not heard about until tonight and the one that I know disappeared years ago. He left us and never looked back. Why did that fact that he might not be my biological father bother me so much? I still can’t answer that question to this day. He clearly didn’t give a fuck about any of his five children or four, whichever the case may be. I suddenly felt a disconnection from my siblings that I had always had. That bond that I had felt like I had with my siblings seemed as if it disappeared. I was a hot mess. I couldn’t wait to talk to my mommy.

It was finally time to go home. When I got in the car, my uncle had the nerve to ask me what was wrong. I just said nothing as I was finally able to cry like I wanted. He knew fuckin’ well what was wrong, so shut the fuck up right now. When I didn’t answer him after about five minutes, he went on this long rant about how wrong my mommy was by not telling me the truth. You judging my mommy and you and a bunch of grown ass men just told a child she doesn’t know her daddy. In my head, I was thinking how he should have kept his damn mouth shut, but oh, well, my mommy was going to handle this. He talked and talked, and I just looked out the window and cried.

We finally made it home. It was late, but I immediately called home to my mommy. I was crying so hard she could hardly understand what I was saying. I had to start over like eight times. I finally calmed down enough so that she could hear the horrible words that had been told to me that night. I was finally able to tell her how she was judged and damned by these people who hardly knew me. My mommy was pissed! She started cussing so hard I thought she was going to come through the phone. She finally calmed down and explained to me that at the end of the day, I was her child. She was all the momma and daddy I needed. She let me know that people, all my life, were going to tell you and anybody that would listen shit about you like they knew you better than you. Learn to know and love yourself enough to tell them to kiss yo’ ass when they come with that shit. She ended the conversation with, “My daddy is my daddy.” Nobody was in that room, so can’t nobody tell you shit. After we hung up, she must have called and gave them the business. She checked they ass and shut that shit down. I got a formal apology from my uncle. Much as I love my mommy and as deadbeat as my daddy was, there was no DNA test done, and the question had never left my mind.

Who’s my daddy, who’s not my daddy. Who gives a shit. Family is what you make of it. I live and breathe my siblings. I know who they are. I get jealous of the father-daughter relationships I see sometimes, but you can’t miss what you never had. I still had questions but I didn’t ask because the subject always upset my mommy. After my mommy died, I went to the man they said was my daddy and got a DNA test done. He is not my father. I did a gene test with my daddy’s sisters. There was no genetic connection their either. I still have more questions than answers.