When he heard my footsteps, he looked over his shoulder and stepped out the back door to continue his conversation. I couldn’t hear exactly what all he was saying, but I could hear that his voice sounded shaky and almost high pitched as it did when something was going on with him.
When my father walked back into the kitchen, he smiled brightly as if everything was okay.
“Good morning, honey, are you feeling better?”
“I’m feeling okay, Dad. Who were you just on the phone with?” I walked over to the pots to start preparing my tea.
“Oh, it was nobody. Just someone I have a little business going on with. No big deal, baby. Sit down, I’ll fix your tea. Your mother told me you weren’t feeling well last night. Would you like some eggs?”
“No, Daddy, I’m okay on food,” I replied, lowering myself into the chair anyway.
“Okay, but you know Ramadan is about to start tomorrow, so you should take advantage of having breakfast this late.”
“I understand that, Daddy, but right now, I’m just not hungry.”
“I understand, sweet pea.” He ran water into the teapot to heat it for me.
I was always a daddy’s girl because he always had my back, even when my mom was too stern to understand where I was coming from. My father got even more protective of me when he learned about my lupus. In his mind, I should go back to the Middle East and get cured there, because he said no one in his family had ever had such a disease. He promised that if I returned to my land, Allah would grant me a new, healthy immune system. That’s how strong his faith was. He believed even when I sometimes felt there was nothing left to believe in.
“So, is everything going okay with the business, Daddy?”
“Everything is perfect, my love,” my father spoke softly, but that nervousness returned to his voice; I could tell something was wrong.
“Dad, you’ve always told me to be honest with you about things going on in my life, and so far, I have been honest with you and Mommy. No offense, but I don’t believe everything is okay. That conversation you had earlier sounded really intense. Are you behind on payments for something in a business deal?”
My dad pulled out a chair at the small breakfast table in the kitchen.
“Delilah, you’re right,” he said, sighing deeply. “I must admit I am in a bit of trouble, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. I took out loans to repair and replace most of the washers and dryers at the Lenox Avenue location. I didn’t get the loan from a bank or someone I trusted. I heard of a man giving out loans from a guy named Chuck. He got a loan from this manfor his pizza shop, paid it back, and everything seemed fine, so I figured I could do the same.”
He took a deep breath.
“But once I got the loan, things went bad.”
He rubbed his hands together, staring down at the table.
“I got behind on repayments when the pipes busted, and I had to close that location down for a month. You remember that?”
“Yeah, Dad, I remember. I was sick that whole month, and I couldn’t come down to help. That made me upset.”
“Well, yes. Around that time, I got behind on my payments to him, and I haven’t been able to catch up since. Now he’s calling about his money, and every day he promises he’ll do something different if I don’t pay him and soon.”
The kitchen felt smaller as he spoke. The hum of the refrigerator suddenly sounded louder. My heart was breaking hearing that my father had been through so much stress. And he’s worked too hard ever to be stressed about anything. These are his later years, and he and Mama are supposed to be relaxing and enjoying life. Not this.
“Now your mother doesn’t know this, Delilah, but you know that you and I have a special connection, and if I tell her, she’s going to worry just like me. But you, sweetheart, I could always talk to you, and I trust this will stay between us.” He dropped his head.
“Dad, how much do you owe this guy?”
When my father finally looked up at me, tears started running down his face. My stomach tightened just from that sight because for my father to cry, I knew it was bad. My father was a proud man, and I’d never seen him cry.
“I owe him upward of fifty thousand dollars, Delilah, and it goes up every single day. I don’t know, I don’t know.” He paused, swallowing hard.
“So what exactly is he saying if you don’t pay him back, Dad? Is he threatening violence?”
“More than that,” he whispered.
“He’s threatening to burn down the laundry mat. He’s threatening to burn down our house. Every night I can’t sleep because every night I’m wondering if it will happen. I’ve been paying him extra whenever I can, but it still doesn’t seem to be enough. He wants it all.”
He wiped his face with the back of his hand.
