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For seconds long, I cut into my salad, and began to eat. It was my distraction to give me time to think.
“You know…” I decided to return to my gloriously, salty fries. “There are guys who are totally fine with girlfriends. They respect them, protect them, and…really like them.”
“Yeah. My cousin, Billy’s, got one of those,” he grunted, eyes rolling toward the window.
“See! It happens…a lot, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why didn’t you choose one to be all those things to you?”
My forehead lifted, and I blinked slowly. Exhaling, I admitted, “Great question!Fairquestion.” I scratched my scalp, internally debating if it were appropriate for me to really go there with Scott. He was so young, so overly-exposed to shit he should have been protected from. But the proverbial milk had already been spilled. “So, you know my mother’s deceased. Right? But did you know my father was in and out of prison most of my childhood?”
That’s when Scott’s eyes met mine. He nodded, sending oily locs of hair for a swish into the air. “But not that much.”
I nodded. “Yup. I didn’t really know him—still don’t. I mean…growing up, I knew who my father was because he was a gangster in our neighborhood. Everyone knew and feared him. His reputation protected me growing up more than his guiding hand did. He was always…in jail or prison.”
“For what?”
“Drugs, assault, weapons…you name it. Some charges smaller than others, but they added up in number, causing me to miss out on having a dad. You know?” I ate more of my salad to pace my emotions. “His last prison stint was for murder.” I felt his eyes creep up on me. It was a span of seconds before I could meet them.
“Who did he kill?”
I hesitated again before coming with it. “The man who murdered my mother—”
“What?” Scott’s volume was at an alarmed level. I tried to flash a smile to get him to realize his loud reaction. He visibly shrunk before me. “I’m sorry. But…”
“It’s okay. I understand. This isn’t something I share with many people. If you were there, you knew. If you were not, you’re not likely to hear it from me. It’s a crazy story. One that possibly led me to meeting you.”
“How?”
“Well, possibly my bloodline or my environment…my psychological pathology.”
“Patho-what?”
“The things I’ve seen growing up.” I shrugged. “Maybe even consequences of my parents’ mistakes.”
“What mistakes did your momma make?”
“She was in an abusive relationship with a thug. They dated for years. At some point, she got pregnant with me. That didn’t stop him from blackening her eye, though. He was caught by a cop, slapping her while she was nice and pregnant with me. They threw him in prison until I was about four years old.”
“Then what happened?”
I took a deep breath. “She’d been dating another guy. Just as toxic apparently. My father wasn’t even out for a month when my mother and her new boyfriend took me down toDisney. The story goes, after a day atMagic Kingdom, back in our cheap motel room, he got drunk and beat her, too. He choked her to death.”
Scott’sB-Waydeluxe with bacon dropped to the wrapper on the table. “Shit,” he murmured.
“Scott,” I weakly warned him.
“I’m so sorry.” He blinked fast. “For your momma, I’m sorry, Lennox. Man,” he breathed out. “Your life’s been…” Scott’s eyes fell.
“Pretty shitty?” I snickered then winked when he peered up to me. “It may seem that way, but I’ve been blessed, too. Your friendship is proof of that.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know about your momma, Lennox.” My shoulders lifted as I tried to minimize the first recorded trauma of my life. “And your father: he killed the mutherfucker?”
I wanted to laugh at his southern accent, but decided to do the responsible thing instead. Leaning into the table, I threatened, “You know, I’m going to wash that filthy mouth of yours out with liquid soap.”
