Daddy's Girl - Marie B (read with me TXT) 📗

He planted white potatoes, yams, greens, radishes and cabbage plants. Surrounding the garden was a peach tree that produced small hard peaches but next to it was the golden delicious apples that made the cobblers we had all summer long. On one side of the fence was a strawberry patch and a peanut patch that belonged to the man next door, but we owned the grape vine that mom made her famous grape jam from, and daddy, his sweet wine. Mom would make our neighbor pies in exchange for strawberries and peanuts. The best of all was down over the hillside next to the cellar house, the luscious red cherry tree.

Mom was not a gardener. The front yard was frugal with flowers and such. There were hedges that grandpa had planted, and I do remember the prolific yellow dandelions. I liked them best when they were soft white cotton that I could blow into the air. Mom said they were a nuisance if anything, but to me they were magnificent. Looking up at the one sunflower we had in the yard was a wonder. It helped me to see how small we really were compared to this great big world of Gods. Pointing upward I asked mom did God live way up past the sun and moon.

“He lives everywhere baby, even in your heart if you let him.” I felt around where I thought my heart was supposed to be until I could feel the thump, thump, thumping. Maybe God had been there all the time and I just hadn‘t noticed it.

Daddy‘s drinking was getting worse. It seems the more he held his stomach, the more he drank, and the more he drank, the more he became unbalanced in his thoughts.

“Why don’t you go see a doctor?” mom urged. Daddy just pushed her aside, put on his gray hat, grabbed the garden hoe and went out back to dig in the garden. Mom shook her head and continued folding clothes. Suddenly one day she dropped the sheet that she held in her hand and followed him across the back yard to where he sat holding his head. It wasn’t long before we saw daddy with the hatchet from the shed. He dashed over to the cherry tree and began chopping away at it, perspiration stained his white sleeveless shirt. Daddy didn’t stop until the tree fell---- to the ground. A part of my childhood was gone with a whack of an ax.

The comings and goings at the hospital had picked up some. People swarmed into the waiting room. Uncle Albert said that we could stay at his house until daddy was better. I had hoped that wouldn’t have been necessary. As far as I was concerned , uncle Albert and I were not really kin folk any more. He had two faces and I wasn’t sure who he was any more.

It was mid morning and the sun started it’s daily task of warming things up. Margie rolled the windows up in the car and turned the air conditioner on. John rode with Uncle Albert in his car, and so, I was sure he hadn’t wasted any time in lighting up a cigarette. Normally, I would have rode where I could feel free to smoke. Only I would have to be close to Uncle Albert.

“You look good in that dress.” he had said that day. I caught my breath and continued dusting the figurines.

“What can I say to you to convince you that it’s ok? They did it all the time back in the bible days, in the old testament.” He said.

“I don’t care. It’s wrong.” I said.

“You need money, don’t you, here.” He waved the money in the air. I turned away and left the room. It was insulting and demeaning but most of all it was betrayal. I could never tell daddy. Not even mom would know.

Bob Marley was singing that song on the radio, no woman no worry, no woman no cry, when I heard mom and grandma talking in the kitchen. “Al’s different.” Grandma Wilkerson said. “Every since he had that operation. Joan had almost died having that last baby, you know, and so Al agreed to have that vase…vas…what ever, he‘s different. I thought to myself, he must have loved Aunt Joan more than the sun loves light.

Uncle Albert was ate up with jealousy. Sometimes I think that’s what killed him. I remember one day Aunt Joan had a doctors appointment and we went with her. She drove every back road she could trying to loose him on the way home.

“There he is.” she said under her breath and made a sharp turn off onto a dirt road. I wondered to myself what kind of adult games we would be playing today as we bounced and rolled in the car.

“He’s crazy.” She exclaimed. Aunt Joan usually laughed at Uncle Albert but now she was obviously not amused with his antics. I entertained myself with some yellow daisies that I had pulled from their yard. How do I love thee, I thought to myself, well lets see, let me count the ways. He loves me, he loves me not. Sniffing each petal before I tossed them, one by one, out of the window. The wind picked them softly up and gently to the ground. We turned down street after street until Aunt Joan finally came to a stop in front of the house, with Uncle Albert trailing close behind her.

“She had to hide the gun?” Mom was talking to someone on the phone.
“And you say she went to her mom‘s house in Michigan?”
“My Looooord.” Mom said. “He’s gonna eventually kill that poor girl.”

That morning when we got to uncle Albert’s house, Margie and I slept in our cousins bedroom and mom in the master bedroom. John and uncle Albert slept in the den. The room was the same as it was when we were teenagers. Pink pillow cases to match pink ruffled curtains. The dresser faced a large white bed with high post on each side. The top of the walls were wallpapered with pink and white dolls. A small pink lamp sat on the bedside table. It all made me feel so da sha foo sad. For some reason I knew that Aunt Joan and the girls had left for some good reason.

Mom was up and dressed.

“Wake up. Get ya’lls clothes on. We gotta go.”

“What’s wrong?” Margie asked rubbing her eyes.

“The hospital called for us to come, let‘s go.” She said. We all sat in the living room, waiting for uncle Albert to get ready. We watched him pick up a pillow and place it on the sofa, turn around and put it back on the chair, and then he had to use the bathroom.

“Why is he taking so long?“ I asked mom. She shook her head and patiently folded her hands.
Uncle Albert came out of the bathroom.

“Are we ready?” he asked in a somber voice. We got to the door before he held up his hand.

“Hold up, just a min…” He dashed back into the bedroom and came out with a jacket and umbrella.
“It might rain.” He said handing mom the umbrella. John glanced at his watch, and then we left the house.

How do you tell a person how much you love them when they never give you the opportunity to do so? When daddy gets home I’ll tell him how much I love him; I promise you Lord, if you just let him live.

My apartment had been just right for me and Jason although he very seldom slept in his own bedroom. When ever I would try to bring him home with me, daddy would hold his head and say, “Leave him, Sis.” and I would. Later on during the week mom would bring him to me. It was a humid, rainy day when I looked up from the mystery book that I was reading. It was daddy at the door. What could be wrong? I thought. He had never once, since I moved from home, visited me.

“Hi daddy.” I didn’t know what to say. How awkward for a daughter and her daddy. He sat on the sofa and I sat across from him in the big flowered chair that didn‘t match anything.

“You do’n ok, Sis?”

“Yeah, you daddy?”

“I been feeling kinda under the weather.” He held his stomach. His eyes where dark and smooth as glass.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s my stomach.”

“Do you want some water daddy?”

“Na. I’ll probably go to the veteran’s hospital next week, if it don’t stop by then.”

“I’ll bring you some juices and stuff so you can build your strength up.” I said.

“Ok, Sis, I’m gonna go now. See you soon.” I opened the door for daddy.

“I’ll come by the house tomorrow and see how you are.” I yelled after him. He waved.

The ride back to the hospital mimicked the first time. Single filed we walked into the cool interior of the building. Two nurses sat juxtaposed at the nurses station. Uncle Albert was the one that did the talking this time. Mom stood next to John while Margie, and I quietly stood behind them.

“We got a call from the hospital.” He said to the busy nurse.
“What family member are you?” she asked without looking up.

“Wilkerson. John Wilkerson.” Uncle Albert said. “Follow me.” The nurse said. We marched behind her like baby ducklings to the same waiting room that we had been in the day before. She told mom to follow her to a different room. A few minutes later mom came out again, long enough to let us know that daddy was hemorrhaging again.

“Daddy’s in surgery now. He started bleeding again and it’s in more than one place now. They stopped some of the bleeding before but can’t find where it’s still coming from.” mom said. She sat down and held her head. Dazed, I flopped down on the bench next to her.

“Let’s pray.” Mom said. We automatically stood up and formed a circle, and even uncle Albert joined in. Mom prayed while people stopped to glance with curiosity as they walked by. I prayed like I never prayed before. My body was tight and my chest, numb. I prayed and prayed and then prayed some more, begging God for my daddy to live. Finally my body went limp. My prayer changed to, Lord let him live, but if you have other plans, please let him be with you in heaven. I sometimes wonder if I gave up too soon, my faith and all. Some one beaconed mom to the operating room again. Before he could close the door again, I moved towards the door.