“Always, my love.”
Daddy changed me into a pull-up and my favorite onesie with all different colored paint splotches on the front with the lettersDaddy’s Little Artistacross them. I loved it so much. I remember the first time I wore a pull-up. I wasn’t sure about it, but Daddy asked nicely if I would try it once. It ended up being a good thing ‘cause I had an oopsie after drinking too much Daddy milk.
“Alright, up you go.” I scooched up the bed and watched as Daddy undressed and removed his binder. That thing did not look comfy to me at all. Poor Daddy.
“You’re super swollen, Daddy. You’d should’ve told me you needed help.” Daddy often forgot about Daddy’s needs and focused on his boy too much. “I’m a good helper.”
He kissed my forehead. “You’re the best helper but Daddy didn’t want to bother you while you had your thinky face on.” Daddy slid in beside me and tugged me against him. I nuzzled in, latched onto my Daddy milky and zoned out. “Sleep, Little One, think later and remember Daddy loves you.”
Daddy loves me.
“Daddy?” I woke up but he wasn’t there beside me. “Where are you?” I called out but got no answer. After I went potty, I was a good boy and didn’t go in my pull-up even though Daddy said I was a good boy when I did. I searched and searched but couldn’t find him. “Daddy?”
“In the office, sweetheart.” I ran down the stairs to his office. “No running in the house, Tae.” Busted.
“Working on our day off?” I curled up in his lap and glanced at the computer. “What’s that?”
“Not the jobs we get paid for, Sweet Boy,” He kissed me. “So not technically working. I had an idea that woke me up. Hear me out,” usually when he said that it meant there was a chance I wouldn’t like what he had to say. “How about we make a list of all the things that make you happy to help decide what to put on your playroom walls.”
“Hmm, why?” Daddy made me happy. Would it be weird to paint his face on the wall?
“Well, the way I see it is, your gift, at times such as this, can be a curse. You get overwhelmed and that beautiful mind of yours can’t focus on a single thing. My idea was we make a list and you take a few minutes with each item on it and see if anything comes to you. If it doesn’t, you cross it off and move onto the next one. Go one by one instead of flooding your brain all at once.”
I thought about it for a minute then my brain jumped to… “Do you remember the first time we met?” No clue why.
Daddy sighed and rubbed my back. “I do, though you are not that lost boy anymore. Or are you trying to tell me something?”
“No Daddy. For some reason it just popped into my head.” The last thing I wanted to do was remember what I’d been through and how Daddy helped turned mine and my brothers’ worlds around. “Seventeen and fresh out of juvie. My counselor said I had to get a job, and you stepped up.” Daddy and Oscar were the only two employees at Ashwood Handyman Services backthen and thanks to Daddy, I became the third one. Daddy hired licensed tradesmen when he had to for special projects, but for the most part Oscar did the general fixes. Daddy and Oscar worked bigger jobs together and sometimes I was their grunt. For the most part, Daddy kept me on the paint jobs ‘cause I was really good at it. Plus, it helped keep that itch under control.
“Your brother Oscar had worked for me for years and did a great job. How could I not help him and you both out. What’s brought all this on? It’s been years since then and you’re no longer that naughty boy.”
Seven, to be exact.
Even though those days were far behind me, the rage that flowed through my veins then was a feeling I’d never forget. Fell in with the wrong crowd for attention. It wasn’t Oscar’s fault he had to work two jobs to keep food on the table after our grandmother died, but at the time I couldn’t see past the anger. So, the dumbasses causing all the problems were the ones I chose to hang out with and when they found out what I could do with a can of spray paint, well, I became their artistic scapegoat. They used me and my gift to spread their message. When I was gone, so were they.
The wordsTae Saavedra, you are under arrest, will forever haunt me.
First time I was caught tagging I got a slap on the wrist.
Second time, community service.
Third time I landed in juvie for six months.
My stupidity almost cost Oscar guardianship over not only myself, but our younger brother Samian. Definitely didn’t set agood example for him even though Oscar had put everything on the line for us. He was determined to keep our family together even though our parents never cared. If our grandmother hadn’t taken us in, they were gonna split us up into separate foster homes. That was fourteen years ago, and we haven’t heard from our parents since.
I’d never been so terrified in all my life. I wasn’t a fighter like most of the kids in juvie were and they were constantly throwing punches. I avoided confrontation but tagging brought out the true artist in me. Problem was just like it still did now, I got lost in it and didn’t hear the cops pull up. By the time they cuffed me all my so-called friends had disappeared.
Yeah, I got the attention I’d craved just not in the right way.
“Sweetheart, what’s really going on here?”
“I dunno.” I really didn’t, I just felt…blah.
“Hmm,” Daddy hummed. “We’ll revisit that later. For now, let’s work on your list. We know you love urban art,” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you roll your eyes at your Daddy,” he tapped my forehead then typed it in. “Cars and trucks?”
“To play with, but I don’t want them on the walls.” He crossed that one off.
“Farm animals?”
