Читать книгу God's Broken Lil' Baby - E. Jay Ford - Страница 8

Chapter 8

8 Trust No One

Look into My Eyes

I’ve grown up my whole life thinking there was no way out,

no one there to teach me what self-esteem was all about.

I fought for what I wanted, and I fought hard,

always thinking and always on my guard.

My attitude is bad, but I try.

Try to keep that hard exterior so that my soft insides can continue to hide.

I’ve been manipulated more than once.

People disrespect you and treat you like a punk;

try so hard to tell those bad vibes goodbye.

You would understand me more if you took the time and just look into my eyes.

I saw my first dead body when I was eight years old. I had never seen anybody dead. My daddy killed him. He shot him. We were living in Los Angeles, California. Our apartment was right off Hillcrest Avenue one block over from Cocoa Street. We lived on the second floor. All the apartments had a view of the pool because they were situated in a circle basically around the pool. I watched my daddy shoot this man while I was standing on the balcony. I was stunned for a minute. I remember my mommy telling me to get my ass in the house. I couldn’t move. My youngest sister was just a baby. My mommy was holding her to calm her. The gunfire scared her. It smelled like the Fourth of July. It instantly reminded me of firecrackers. We were having tuna and corn that night. My mommy made the best tuna in the world, but that night, I lost my appetite.

It was so hot that day. My daddy had picked me up from school, and the leather parts of his seats were burning my legs and back. He drove a red Trans Am, and he would always drive it so fast. I loved when he picked me up from school. Where we lived, we had a carport. We pulled into the carport, and I guess my daddy parked a little too close to the car assigned next to ours because when my daddy opened the door, he hit it. It left a ding in the door. My daddy sent me upstairs while he went to knock on the neighbor’s door to tell him he had scratched his car. He told him to find out how much it would cost and he would take care of it. My daddy had a job, but he also sold dope as a side hustle so he had the cash. The dude was cool with it, and it was over and done. You would think.

Fast-forward four hours later. We were sitting down to dinner. Somebody started banging on the door. This was not a regular knock. This was what was known as the “police knock.” It’s when somebody is knocking on your door so hard, it sounds like they are about to come through it. My daddy, who had a terrible temper, was pissed. He jumped up from the table, stormed across the living room, and pulled the door open with a force and a look of anger that let you know you had life fucked up knocking on his door like that. It was that dude, our neighbor, drunk off his ass. He started yelling about how my daddy must have thought he was a punk and don’t nobody fuck up his shit and he doesn’t do anything about it. He invited my daddy downstairs to settle this shit. My daddy knew dude was packin’, and my daddy was far from a soft ass nigga. You did not fuck with my daddy. My daddy went and got his piece and met dude downstairs.

My daddy had his gun tucked in the front of his pants under his shirt. I saw him put it there as he was walking out the door. He always wore these walking suits that were really loose, and you would never know he was concealing as he was coming toward you. He stood about six feet one and weighed, I know, three hundred twenty pounds easy. Dude was already standing downstairs by the three feet end of the pool. He had a cheering section coming from his apartment. They were all drunk and screaming obscenities. You can tell who got his dumb ass hyped up to do this stupid shit. Daddy wasn’t moved. Dude was yelling something about what my daddy wasn’t gonna do. My daddy just stood there silent. You can tell he was pissed and completely irritated on a whole other level. Dude pulled a gun and tried to shoot, but the gun jammed. That was fucked up for him because my daddy was just as fast and his didn’t jam. He went down like sack of potatoes, and blood was leaking from under him spilling onto the concrete. My mommy started whispering under her breath, “Oh my God. Oh my God.” My daddy was walking around the body cussing and calling him a stupid mothafucka. He was angrier after he shot him than he was before he shot him. He kept saying it didn’t have to go down like this. My mommy dragged me in the house when the police showed up. She didn’t want me to see them arrest my daddy. Dude’s people were on the porch crying and screaming, “This mothafucka shot him,” like he wasn’t the one who pulled the gun first.

They allowed my daddy to come upstairs to say goodbye to my mommy. When he got upstairs, my mommy was in a silent cry. He hugged my mommy so hard and whispered something in her ear. They were so in love with each other. They showed that kind of affection between each another all the time. I actually remember what they were like before the drugs. The police told him it was time to go. I was in the hallway crying my eyes out. They were taking my daddy away, and it wasn’t even his fault. After they shut the door, my mommy cried so hard. I couldn’t sleep that night. The fire coming out of the gun and dude dropping would play in my head over and over again. I missed my daddy already. I must have finally dozed off because I was awakened by a knock at our door. My mommy was still up listening to sad music. I could hear her yell “Who is it” from the living room. “Always and Forever” by Heatwave was playing when she opened to door to let my daddy in. I ran to the hallway to peek around the corner to see what the commotion was. They had released my daddy. They considered the murder self-defense, so they had to let him go. Mommy and Daddy held each other and slow danced. I just sat there and watched with so much joy. Little did I know, that joy I was feeling would not be one I would often feel in my lifetime.

My daddy did the honorable thing, and that didn’t mean shit. He told the truth. He owned up to his mistake. He offered to make what he did wrong right. It doesn’t matter how good you are, people are going to be who they are, and you just have to handle the shit as it comes your way. That’s just what my daddy did.