“You seem curious about your mother,” I pressed.
“Not really.”
“You sure?”
She shrugged, but it wasn’t convincing. “My dad doesn’t talk about her, so I don’t know much.”
“He’s probably too hurt,” I explained. “They were very much in love.”
“I bet they were.”
She turned her head slightly to look at me. “How did you all meet?”
I exhaled through my nose.
“Me and your dad were in foster care at the same time,” I replied. “My mom had just passed, and my dad’s wife didn’t want me staying with them. Plus my mom and I ain’t have nobody close, so the state took me in. I was sixteen.”
She didn’t interrupt.
But why was I even opening up about this?
Maybe it could help her put her life in perspective. It’s not like I’m ashamed of it or anything.
At least not this part.
“Your dad was seventeen and about to age out. So we came up with a plan: hop the fence, steal a couple vintage bottles, resell them and get cash. But the previous owner caught us.”
“What did he do?”
I let out a short breath. “Fuck you mean, what did he do? He whooped our ass. Then your dad broke one of his bottles, and he whooped our ass again.”
She laughed at that.
“Next day, he called the foster house. Told them we wasn’t coming back ‘cause we’d be working off what we owed.”
I adjusted my grip slightly.
“We spent that whole summer picking grapes until our fingertips stained purple. Don’t even know if it was the juice or lack of blood circulation.”
“No wonder you a very ruthless man.”
I glanced down at her.
“Ruthless?” I said. “I’m being easy on you, Rabbit. Way easier than anybody ever was on me.”
“If this is what you consider easy than I’m sorry you had such a fucked up life.”
I scoffed at that backhand, passive-aggressive ass attempt at empathy. “Ay, it wasn’t all bad. The old man who owned this place was cool after a while. He even got me my first pair of glasses. I remember being so scared of staining ‘em with that grape juice and ruining them, I used to use the heel of my palms to adjust ‘em on my face.”
I chuckled at the memory which made her giggle.
“And he taught me to speak proper. Said if I was gonna do business with him I can’t be talking like a corner boy. But I can’t help it.”
“Old habits die hard.”
“Tell me about it. Back in the day, me and your dad had to do whatever to get by. You don’t just forget that shit.”
“I know,” she was on guard again. “Daddy still walks around with a damn gun. Sleeps with it under his pillow and everything.”
