“Oh, well, Malcolm, listen. I need.”
“Don’t call me Malcolm,” he snapped.
“I’m your father. You need to address me as such.”
“I don’t have to address you as anything,” I said, already irritated before I remembered why I was calling. As much as I hate to give him much respect, I had to bite my tongue for now.
“Well, I’m in Vegas for the wedding, and my card just got locked up. I need to pay for the wedding, and I’ll give you the money back once my situation gets fixed.”
“First of all, you should say, Hi, Daddy, how are you doing? How have you been?’ I mean, I haven’t talked to you in almost a year and a half. I reach out to you every day, Arianna.”
He went into that same spill I had to hear on my voicemail and in text messages before I put his messages on do not disturb. My father and I had a great relationship when I was a child, up until two years ago, when my father killed my mother.
They ruled it as self-defense. And if I’m being honest with myself, it probably was. My mother had a history of violent outbursts, uncontrollable rage, and hands that moved faster than her mind when she felt threatened or disrespected. She didn’t just attack him; she attacked anyone who pushed the wrong button.
His story was simple and backed by evidence. He said she came at him with a knife, eyes wild, cursing like crazy, and he said that he begged her to stop until he was backed into a corner with her weapon. His account was that when she lunged, he fired, and the police believed him, as well as the courts, when it came to determining charges.
The marks on his body made it easier to believe, and the knife wounds, scratches, and bite marks etched into his skin was proof. They said it was fear. Survival. A man protecting himself in a moment that got away from him.
Still, I couldn’t accept that shooting her was theonlyoption.
Couldn’t he have done something else?
Couldn’t he have pushed her and ran? Called for help? Anything but pull the trigger? Especially knowing that she struggled with the voices in her head. Knowing that sometimes she wasn’t fully there.
“Listen, Dad, I just need the money. I know you have it. You got all that money from that insurance. I’ll send it back to you. I promise.”
“I don’t care about you sending it back. I always try to help you. Been trying all year, and you won’t let me. You’d rather be out dancing in clubs, showing your body, running with that nigga who doesn’t have your best interest. He should have you sitting down like the queen you are, instead of watching you leave that house to take care of your household.”
I rolled my eyes because I wasn’t even in the mood to defend Josiah. Plus, I needed him right now and had to keep my feelings to myself.
“Arianna, you do know that I loved your mother, right?” he added out of nowhere. I’m sure it’s always in the back of his mind when he talks to me or reaches out. He knows why I don’t fuck with him.
“Look, I don’t want to talk about my mama. I just need you to help me, Dad, and without a lecture or discussions about things you know hurt me.”
He sighed heavily.
“Alright. I hear you. I can send the money in a second, but on one condition.”
“What is that?”
“You let me fly out and walk you down the aisle. That’s the least I can do. That’s the least you can let me do, and the money is yours.”
My pride told me to hang up in his face right then, but reality reminded me that we’d come all the way out here for a wedding and this was the only way the wedding was happening.
“Okay, whatever. You can walk me down the aisle. But the wedding is in two days. I’m sure that won’t work out for you.”
“Flights or the time is an issue. Just tell me what color I need to wear, and I’m there.”
I shifted the phone to my other ear as I stepped out of the hotel, weaving around a group of tourists who had stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Black, I guess.”
“Alright. I’m about to go suit shopping then. In the meantime, where do you want me to send the money?”
“You can just send it to my Zelle account. It’s under my phone number.”
“Alright. I got you, baby girl. I love you.”
