“Alright, alright, no pressure.” Crew raised his hands in the air.
“I tell you what, I am excited as hell about those funnel cakes your wife told me you had.”
“You and me both.”
We dropped the bags on the side of the table, where at least a hundred gifts were spread across. My four bags probably had the cheapest shit in them, but I don’t think she was in need of anything. Amira seemed to be having a birthday party like celebrity kids. Those over the top events where the kids get plenty of shit that they don’t need, while there are kids across New York who probably don’t get reminded that it’s their birthday. Even though I grew up rich, I used to be one of them.
“Amir, I appreciate you coming to celebrate Princess P, man. We can’t believe how old she is. I know I probably tell you too much, but I appreciate you bruh, and to me, you are family. You got my loyalty forever.”
He stared across the room, and I followed his gaze, seeing him look at his beautiful little girl in the fluffy pink tutu with a crown on her head.
“Thanks, man, but you know it’s no big deal to me. Shit, you niggas paid me back times ten when I think about that era. Y’all got rid of a virus I thought was incurable if you know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you fuckin mean, my boy, but let’s go over to this bar so that I can get drunk enough in this mutha fucka for the both of us.”
I followed Crew over to the bar, weaving in and out of the kids and adults moving around the party. I noticed some eyes on me from people who probably never expected to see me around. That’s a reason why I didn’t want to come here, but at the same time, fuck what anyone thought. Crew was right, and we came in the clutch for each other. What’s understood doesn’t have to be explained when it comes to our street ties.
Crew got a drink from the small bar set up, and we were having small talk about all the shit they had to offer at the party, when I felt a small body come in between us. Crew looked down, and so did I, noticing the princess with the crown and the tutu now tugging on his shirt.
“Daddy. Are you going to watch me ride the Ferris wheel?”
He picked her up from the ground, throwing her in the air.
“Of course, Princess P, but real quick, I want you to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“Your Godfather, Amir.”
I squinted my eyes because I didn’t know I had that title.
“Godfather bro? You for real?”
“Yeah, man. Actually, you, Godfather number two. Don’t tell that nigga Hov yet though. Nigga might get jealous and pull his gun out.”
“My Godfather daddy? Does mommy have another boyfriend, daddy?”
Crew smacked his lips, and I chuckled at her question.
“Hell nah. Amira, don’t ever say anything like that again. You're trying to kill your daddy, girl. Godfather means he will look out for you forever. Even when mama and daddy can’t.”
“Oh, like Uncle Hov?”
“Just like Uncle Hov.”
Crew kissed on his daughter’s cheeks and then let her down so she could run around and play some more. I found myself dapping the nigga up again.
“Yo, I’m touched, bro, but I can’t be referred to as her Godfather. It goes directly against my beliefs.”
“Oh, damn, I didn’t realize that.”
“Yeah, the Quran says that Allah neither begets nor is born, meaning God doesn’t have children or parents. Instead, we look at the entire Muslim community as the protectors and support system for all children in the community. So I got you and your daughter without a title. No disrespect to you because it is an honor for you to think of me that way.”
“Nah, bro, I get it. None taken. Your word is good enough for me, and I always understand anyone’s beliefs that are different from mine. Shit, I practice smudging and a lot of people think it’s pointless, but I know what it does for me. So, whatever brings you peace, my boy.” He lifted his glass before taking a sip.
I can admit that lately, I’ve been battling listening to my beliefs in my head because they were taught by my father. I often asked myself were they really my own beliefs or something he pressured me into believing. When I was a kid, every single day before we could go out and play, we had to read from the Quran for at least twenty minutes. My brothers always skimmed through it just to be done and go fuck around, but I read and studied it because I always wanted to impress my father. My grandma always told me Allah was in my favor because of my knowledge of my religion. Back then, I didn’t see what the favor was, and I’m still struggling to find it as an adult to this day.
The longer the event went on, the more people showed up, with bags, gifts, and even cash, they were handing straight to the birthday girl. After seeing the gifts, I realized I may have spent $300 at Target, but I was still being shown up by everyone here. I got in my head and told myself I would just give baby girl another few hundred to go spend on what she wanted. Though I knew she wasn’t hard up for money, I’m the guest of honor, and I need my gift to mean just as much to her as everyone else’s, especially with him putting me on the level of Hov, who just brought a Mini pink golf cart through the door.
