stupor, cussing and yelling at those passing by and the people attending the church across the
street from him. Suddenly, I go from an observer to part of the scene as he had a few choice
words for me too. “Hey der boo. Let me see yo hand cause I sho’ wanna put a ring on it,” he said
staggering from his porch to the side of the fence. I feigned to not hear him as I proceeded to the
front door of my son’s dad’s house and knocked on the door as hard as I could. “Well fo’ get you
too then. I fo got you like to play hard to get. I don’t see what fo’ cause yo baby daddy don’t
want you no way,” he slurred.
I have to knock hard and/or kick the door in order to get him to answer since he always
has Benny Hinn or Kirk Franklin blaring and hence cannot hear a normal knock or doorbell ring.
Never mind the doorbell as it is only there for aesthetic reasons. It has never worked to my
recollection. When I once asked him why he has the volume so high on those things, he told me
that it is to drown out the evil thoughts that the devil puts into his mind, which brings me to the
reason that we are not presently together. After becoming fed up with the cult he calls a church
and stopped going, I was deemed an unsaved heathen that he could no longer be married to. I
told him that we can attend a different church, but there was no way in hell or heaven that I was
going back to that place. Subsequently, the marriage came to an end, but we remained cordial for
our son Marc. There is still love there which can be seen in the small gestures that we make
towards one another. For example, when I told him about how Jarrod watches me so that he can
eat my lemons and sift through my trash, he went over and spoke with Jarrod’s grandmother.
Even though she cussed him out and accused me of lying, he was still on my side. Sometimes I
take him some of my home cooking when I cook since I know that he doesn’t have a lady friend
yet to cook for him. Oh; I almost forgot. Having a lady friend is against his religious beliefs. But
be all of that as it may, I made an arrangement to ride with him to the school on Fridays, and the
rides are rather interesting to say the least.
I look forward to these weekly trips as this is the only excitement that I get nowadays
since I have no man friend, little money, and no cable TV. The school is only about six miles
from the house. Sometimes, depending on Tony’s mood, we may take his brand new shiny
showroom car, or we may take the old rice burner with no air conditioning or radio. For
substitution of the radio, he usually quotes bible scriptures or sing gospel songs a majority of the
way there, sometimes waving his hands in the air and briefly closing his eyes when he “feels the
spirit”. It bothers him when I look at him strangely and don’t participate as he ascribes this to the
w ay of the heathen. Nevertheless, we arrive. Pulling up to the school, the first thing that I usually
see is the play ground, with the iron seesaw in front of the jungle gym, the slide and the monkey
bars. Today there were about twenty something six and seven year olds screaming and running
rampant on it, all dressed in their button-down, green and navy plaid blue Parker shirts, with
navy blue Dickies and black dress shoes. Each time, it seems like I am in a labyrinth when trying
to determine which one is him. Then gradually, my eyes will focus in on him as if he is the only
child on the entire playground. He ran towards us with a huge smile and his arms outstretched
and said “hey mamma and daddy,” hugging us both as if he hadn’t seen us in years. “How was
school?” I asked him as we each turned to head back to the car for another interesting trip, to say
the least.
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