“All you gon’ have is the guitar and some candles?”
“Have them cut the lights up so the audience can see you.”
“Why you got so much of that pink makeup on ya face?”
“I’ma set up a pre-show meet and greet. We gon’ charge these folks a thousand dollars to meet you and take pictures before the next show. You ain’t capitalizing on your platform enough for me.”
Senior’s mouth had been going nonstop. No exaggeration. From the moment he came into my chill room, he’d been commenting on one thing, and another, and another. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if this wasn’t the first time I’d seen and heard from him in three months. He’d always meet up with his son for dinner, or drinks, or to watch or play sports, but it never crossed his mind to invite or spend time with me. If Isaac didn’t let me know they were having dinner or going to the country club, I’d get no invite.
I used to just pull up and try to enjoy my father any way I could. Lately, I’d stopped trying. And without me trying, I hadn’t seen my father in three fucking months. Senior didn’t give a damn about talking to me on a regular basis, but he was going to show up for every show and play the proud father role. For whatever reason, he treated my shows like Isaac’s games and tried to coach me, which only made me more anxious.
When I couldn’t take any more, I yelled, “Senior, please!”
His and Isaac’s heads snapped in my direction.
“The hell wrong with you yelling like that, lil girl?”
“Will you please be quiet so I can focus? I need to be as calm as possible before my show. If you can’t be quiet, please get out.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “Wow. This is how you talk to me after I came back here to help you?”
“I don’t need your help, Senior,” I said, and my voice sounded just as tired as my spirit felt. “I only need your support. If you can’t give me that, you can leave.”
“I am supporting you. I’m here, ain’t I?”
“You’re not supporting me. You’re critiquing me. You’ve been doing it since you got here. You’ve complained about literally every fucking thing—my hair and makeup, my outfit. My voice. My energy. Me. My show. My ideas. Everything.”
“Look. I haven’t been critiquing you. I’ve been supporting you by letting you know what needs to change.”
Chuckling, I shook my head and released a shaky breath. I stood from the plush sofa and walked over to the vanity where I’d just finished getting my makeup done.
“Okay, Senior,” was all I said, feeling like it was pointless to try and explain the difference between supporting and critiquing to a grown ass man.
“See, that’s why I rarely come around. You always complaining about what I say and do. It’s never enough for you, L. Can’t you give me some credit for some’?”
“Aye, why you just sitting there letting this mane talk to her like that?” At the sound of Falcon’s voice, my eyes closed and shoulders relaxed in relief. “Eli is about to go on stage and perform. She doesn’t need this shit right now. Both of y’all need to get the fuck out.”
“Nigga, who the fuck you think you talking to?” Isaac asked as he stood. “You don’t run shit when it comes to my sister.”
“For the next two months, I’m her man, so I do. It’s my job to protect her, even if that means from you. I usually let you handle ya pops, but you ain’t saying shit like you don’t hear how he’s talking to her.”
“What’s wrong with how he’s talking to her? He’s trying to help.”
“That’s not the kind of help she needs. I stood out there for a good minute and listened to him going in, waiting for you to say something. We ain’t in the locker room getting ready for a game. She’s a woman getting ready to serenade a room full of lovers. If y’all can’t handle her softly and gently with love, you’re doing her more harm than good. So I’ma say it again, but this will be the last time. Get out and leave Eli alone.”
With a huff, Isaac walked over to me and kissed my forehead, but it didn’t soften me the way it usually would. He was usually my protector, but there were times he’d agree with what our father was saying and doing, which would lead to an argument between us. Or, he’d act like Senior didn’t favor him and ignore me, which would piss me off. I shifted away from him slightly as he gently squeezed my shoulder.
“Sorry, baby love. I guess sometimes I forget we gotta handle you differently. My bad.”
All I did was lick the corner of my mouth before swallowing back my emotion. I literally had no energy to respond to him. Senior stood at the door, staring at me. It was as if he expected me to ask him to stay. When I didn’t, he chuckled and shook his head, grumbling about not showing up for me at my next show since I didn’t appreciate him, as he walked out. And for some reason, the thought of him not coming filled me with relief, which was crazy because he was the main reason I was even doing this.
Falcon closed and locked the door behind them, then made his way over to me. Kneeling, he cupped my thighs and looked up at me with love, tenderness, and concern in his eyes. The stark difference in him versus the men who had just left the room was enough to make me cry. Before I could stop them,tears were falling from my eyes. He wasted no time standing, picking me up, sitting in the seat, and resting me on his lap.
“It’s okay, bae. I got you,” he assured me against my ear before kissing it.
His arms wrapped around me tighter as he rocked us back and forth.
“Am I crazy? Am I wrong? Is this how all fathers treat their daughters?” I sobbed. “The man has never even told me he loves me or that he’s proud of me. That he cares about me. I don’t even know if he likes me. He acts like I don’t exist most of the time, and when he does acknowledge me, it’s to either complain about my music and life or give me compliments when I do something that he believes is right. And here I am trying my hardest to please him and get closer to him, and he really don’t give a fuck. I give up.”
