Page 2 of When I Thug You Like That

Laughing under my breath, I pulled the comforter back and placed my feet on the hardwood floor. With my eyes closed, I twisted my neck to the left and then the right before stretching. It was now 7:37 a.m. Baby Jay’s school tour was scheduled for ten. I still had to get myself together, make sure the boys were dressed, make breakfast, and get Justin dropped off to my parents’ house before shooting back across town. I knew I was pushing it on time, but somehow, I always made shit happen. I could do this daddy shit with my eyes closed.

Getting up from the bed, I grabbed my phone off the charger and headed to the bathroom. Checking my notifications, I had two missed texts, one from my mother and the other from Key, but none from the woman who should’ve been reaching out, Baby Jay’s mother, India. Letting out a breath of irritation, I put responding to my mother and Key on hold to call this irresponsible hoodrat. Placing the call on speaker, I brushed my teeth. The phone rang out until the voicemail picked up.

“You know who you ca…”

I ended the call before the full message could play. Picking up the phone, I scrolled to our text thread. Any other day, I would’ve gone on about my business and dealt with her face to face, but India knew how important today was for our son. Although divided as fuck when it came to the subject of Baby Jay’s autism behind closed doors, us showing up to this school as a unit was important.

Me: Morning. The appointment at Abilities First is at ten. What time should I expect you there?

I stared at the message for a few seconds after hitting send, waiting for her read receipt to pop up. When it didn’t, I locked my phone and turned on the shower. After twenty minutes inside, I threw on a pair of sweats, a long sleeve white tee, and a hoodie. I hit my body with some cologne and slid my watch onto my wrist.

“Mr. Fuckin’ Handsome,” I said out loud to my reflection as I moisturized my face.

Slipping my phone into my pocket, I pulled a pair of socks on and headed down the hall to the boys’ room. I owned a three-bedroom condo, and it was more than enough space for me and my boys, who I had at least three days out of the week. The third bedroom was really Justin’s, but he’d requested to share a room with his brother a year ago when he noticed that Baby Jay had a hard time sleeping by himself. Wanting Justin to be comfortable with his decision, I suggested we do a trial run first to see if it worked out. Lil’ nigga ain’t left since. A real standup guy.

The door was slightly ajar, so I knocked before pushing it open.

“Come in, Dad.”

Walking inside, Justin was at his dresser, putting deodorant on, while Baby Jay sat cross-legged on his bed, with his head rested on his arm and his iPad balanced on his lap with the home screen lit up. He was still dressed in his pajama pants and no shirt.

“Morning, Jay.” I spoke from the doorway.

His eyes moved toward me. “Good morning. iPad.” He pointed to the screen.

“I see it, man,” I said, walking over to him. “You can use it after breakfast.” As I got closer, I noticed his face scrunch up, and his little hands tightened around the case.

“Wanna watch show on iPad.”

“I heard you the first time, big man.”

I crouched down in front of him, leaning on the bed. His eyes dipped toward the tablet again. His impatience had set in. I could tell by the way his thumb pressed against the side of his index finger. It was little gestures like that that I picked up on. Since his diagnosis, I paid attention more, and those hints allowed me space to teach him in a way that gave him grace but also reminded him that I was the parent, and I ran shit.

Getting eye level with him so that I had his attention, I spoke. “Listen to Daddy. First, we get dressed. Then, we have breakfast. After, we put our shoes on and head to the car. Then, Dad will let you use the iPad. Cool?”

He stared blankly at me for a few seconds, and I waited. I’d learned that, sometimes, he needed a few seconds for the words to settle and then to process the order of things before responding. It was all about setting him up with a plan so that he knew what to look forward to.

His shoulders dropped in defeat before replying and loosening his grip on the iPad. “Okay, Dad.”

“Aight, big man. Chin up, it’s cool,” I assured him. “Put your iPad down and let’s find you something to wear.”

Sliding down off the bed, he placed the iPad on his pillow. “I get dressed.”

“There you go. Grab your pants out the drawer. I’ll get your shirt.”

“My pants, Jussy,” I heard him say to Justin as I walked into their closet.

“In the first drawer,” Justin instructed. “Dad, you want him to put on sweats or jeans?”

“Whatever he pick out is cool.”

I started to pick out a collared shirt, but then I thought, My boy ain’t going in there to impress nobody; they need to be worried ‘bout impressing us. Opting for a graphic tee, I walked back out to find Justin helping Baby Jay step into his sweatpants.

“Here, sit down so you can put your socks on,” he said.

We never infringed on his need to be independent, not that he would let us anyway. Baby Jay always wanted to do for himself. Maybe a little too much for a five-year-old. I grabbed a t-shirt from his drawer and helped him into it.

“Glad he picked sweats. I ain’t feel like ironing shit this morning anyway.”