40
men we love men we hate
My mom stood by her hand-carved dresser and opened the drawer, into which she prepared to place the envelope. I peeped and saw her try to put the envelope under her red tights, but I couldn’t let that happen. I made a bold move, saying, “momma thank you really for the gift.” I reached in for a hug, causing her to drop the red envelope onto the floor. I went in for it, picking it up. She tried to take it from me, but I wouldn’t let her. I opened it. I could see my mother become frustrated as she scratched her forehead. I saw all the money inside the envelope. It had to have like three one hundred dollar bills and a certain amount of twenty dollar bills. I was baffled, so I asked, “Momma where did you get this money from?” I hoped she would be honest enough to tell me the truth. She replied, “I’ve been saving some money in case of emergency.” That was It! I had to confront her. I told her that I saw the mysterious man in the hall. She was really lost for words and looked guilty. She said, “Drew mind your own damn business. I am a grown woman.” I was about to walk off when she said, “Andy don’t tell anybody, but that man is your and Adrian’s daddy.” “Not this again” was all I could think. I was doing fine with Joe not being my daddy. As far as I was concerned I didn’t have a daddy. I was speechless after hearing the news. It was like a wave of drama had washed clean over me. These feelings were unexplainable. I didn’t know how to react as I stood there like a mute trying to find something in my scrambled brain to say. Nothing came. My mom said, “Don’t worry. I told him to stay away, because I knew you wouldn’t want to see him.” I stopped her stupid ranting and out of the blue said, “call him. I want to see him. I have a few things to tell his lying, childabandoning ass.” My mom didn’t even try to stop me. I guessed she realized that it was bound to happen. She knew that I wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say. I folded my arms selfishly and exited the room, leaving my mom to ponder in her thoughts. A knock occurred the following day, and I knew it had to be him because none of my family would ever consider knocking on the door. They didn’t have that much class. I knew it had to be my dad, judging from the look on my mom’s face; the anguish and the depression gave me sure sign that it was indeed my father. I peeped from my room to see if he had come inside. He was there wearing his long black casual pants with a white, low-cut, dress shirt. I was ready to make my soap opera entrance. I looked in the mirror practicing all these scolding faces