Page 35 of Pretty and Loco

I closed the door behind me and looked around. It was spotless, just as I remembered. My mother always kept a clean house; you could eat off the floors, and it always smelled like laundry day. Cleanliness was one of the habits I got from her, and it stuck with me when I moved into my own home.

I walked through the hallway, looking at all the pictures of me. I was my mother’s only child. Aside from a few pictures of my aunt, grandmother, and cousins, the house still looked devoted to me.

I gazed at the pictures on the wall, smiling at the younger, more innocent version of myself. I was the most adorable child, but I could be biased.

We walked into the dining area and sat at the table. Out of reflex, I looked around once more.

“Where’s daddy?” I asked.

“Upstairs taking a shower. He’s tired from being on the road all week, but I woke him up and told him he’d better be downstairs to have dinner or—”

“Or what, Leigh? You ain’t say or nothing.” He interrupted her, appearing in the doorway, making us both laugh. They bickered like an eighty-year-old couple. It was the funniest thing to witness.

“Whatever, Dayton.” She scoffed.

Before I could open my mouth to speak to him, he made his way over to me and pulled me from the chair to hug me. I laid my head against his chest as he held me there.

“What’s going on, Bossy?” He asked, with his chin on top of my head.

“Hi daddy,” I replied.

If anyone knew me growing up, they’d know the bond I had with my parents. I was their only child together, and although my father had Dayari, I was the only child living in the house with him. He woke me up with breakfast and tucked me into bed. Not that he had favorites, but that type of bond was just different. The fact that we were estranged now, and that those simple moments I used to look forward to felt uncomfortable, saddened me a lot. I knew that it was no one’s fault but my own, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

When we parted ways, I glanced over his face. Although I could tell that he was tired from the bags underneath his eyes, he still looked youthful. Despite sitting for hours on end in those trucks, he never let that slow him down. At times, I thought he had more energy than me.

“You look good, old man.” I smiled as I sat down again.

“Tell your mama that she got mad at me and told me that I look like Redd Foxx.”

We both hollered as he went around the table, leaned down to her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and then kissed her temple and then her lips.

They were the cutest couple, and no matter how old they got, he never stopped showing her affection. It was something I admired more than I cared to share with them. As their child, it was my unspoken duty to make them believe they were disgusting and I didn’t need front-row seats for their PDA. But it was the opposite. It mattered, and I needed to see that display of love to know it existed.

Just as my father was about to sit down, the doorbell rang, and I knew it was Dayari. So instead of sitting, he walked toward the front door to let her in.

“Mama, the food smells good. What did you make?” I asked, looking around at the table littered with plates covered by lids and domes.

“A little of everything. I made a lot of your favorites. I made extra deviled eggs too.” She rolled her eyes playfully. Deviled eggs were my favorite, and she knew that I would take some for the road.

“Heyyyyyyyyy!” Dayari sang as she and our father came back into the dining room.

She came in loud as usual.

“Hey, pretty girl. I haven’t seen you in so long,” My mother cooed as she pushed from the chair that she was standing in to embrace Dayari as well.

“I know, and you still look good.” Dayari laughed as they parted.

“It’s crazy how much you and Leah look alike now. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it looks like your evil ass grandma spit the both of you out.” She said with a smirk.

“Leigh…” My daddy said, rubbing his temples. Scolding her for talking about his mother.

We all laughed as Daya sat beside me.

Our dynamic was different than most, but in my opinion, it was so beautiful. Daya’s mother and my mother were sworn enemies. They still are to this very day. At the time, my father was young, dumb, and running the streets.

He had women that he saw casually, and our mothers wound up getting pregnant within months of each other. My father had always been an active dad, but he and my mother didn’t get together until I was in kindergarten. I remember him coming to take me to school on the first day and never going home. They got married a year later.

Daya’s mom and my grandmother hated it. But that never stopped the bond that Daya and my mother grew. In our house, when Daya walked through the door, she was her daughter.