Daymir
“He is your twin,” Red gushes as DJ climbs into her chair.
“I keep hearing that,” I admit.
“I like DJ too,” Red says as she clamps the cape around his neck. “How old are you?”
“Six. My birthday is in June,” he tells her.
“June? So is my son. He’s seven but a little shorter than you.”
“What’s his name?” DJ asks.
“Hakeem.”
After rubbing her hands across his thick hair, Red looks at me. “You want it all off?” she asks.
“No, he likes all that hair. So, he’s keeping the top. Fade of the sides,” I tell her.
“Got it and what about you?” she asks.
“I’m straight. I’ll just swing back Wednesday. Today is just him. Gotta get him right for school.”
“’Cause I go tomorrow,” DJ adds before Red gets to work.
Since the chair next to her station is empty, I slide in it to stay close.
From the looks of DJ’s head, I’m not sure when the last time or if he’s ever been in a barber’s chair.
Although he seems pretty adjusted, it’s clear he’s missed out on a few things, the biggest being me, his father.
All little Black boys need a father in their lives.
Mothers and grandmothers are greatly appreciated and adored for all that they do but they can’t teach a little Black boy how to be a Black man.
These past two weeks have been a huge as adjustment.
The night I got him, he only had a tiny duffle bag filled with one pair of kicks, some night clothes, and a few outfits.
He had an iPhone with his Maw Maw’s number programmed in it too but hell, that was it.
I fixed that immediately and he and I hit the stores that next day before I went to Imani’s.
A closet full of clothes and boxes of shoes, an iPad, and an XBOX were easy.
Getting him to loosen up and get comfortable hasn’t been as easy.
He’s smart as hell but a little shy. Trust is big for him and he misses his Maw Maw.
The first few days, we called her two or three times each day.
Thank God for her, for real. She assures him each call that he’s good with me and it’s starting to sink in with him.
When I leave a room, he doesn’t follow behind me anymore to make sure that I’m in fact coming back.
The first night, he wouldn’t sleep. It took me a minute to realize that he was scared to close his eyes and find me gone.
When I did though, I grabbed a comforter and pillows and planted my big ass on the floor next to his bed.
Several times throughout the night, he woke up and checked for me.
I was there each time. That shit fucked with me heavy.
Hell, it still does because had Makenna been honest with me from jump, he would haven’t had to go through any shit with her ass.
Even while locked, I would have made sure he was straight with my family.
He's starting school tomorrow. I couldn’t get him in right away because the paperwork his grandmother had wasn’t official.
With the help of Rhian, my boss Gideon’s wife, I got that shit straight and enrolled him into Little Einstein’s, a private elementary school.
Gideon and Rhian’s little girl attends but she’s in kindergarten.
He’s starting first grade. Although he is starting three weeks late into the school year, his teacher and the admin have assured me that he’ll be fine.
I can’t lie; this shit has been hard, an adjustment for real. I haven’t been to the warehouse since I’ve gotten him. I’ve been managing and handling shit from the crib because he will never step foot in the warehouse. That part of my life will remain a million miles from him.
My new schedule and new life revolve around him.
When he’s in school, I’ll head to work. When he’s out, we’ll be together.
My peeps have all stepped up and volunteered to help but for now, I got it.
As much as I hate to admit the shit, Imani was right.
DJ and I need time together to create our bond, his trust of me, and our routine.
I miss the shit out of her sexy ass though. We may not be seeing one another but she stays on my mind. I meant every fucking thing I said to her in her garage. She is mine and I’m coming back for what’s mine.
“Is this close enough on his sides?” Red asks.
She slightly turns the chair, giving me a clear view of Dj’s hair. His sides are faded perfectly; I just want it cleaner at the bottom. So, I ease out of the chair and step to them. I point behind his ear and to his neck area.
“I like this but I want it clean behind his ears and tapered down by his neck, like in a V shape,” I tell her.
“Oh yeah. I like that. And you’re cool with the top or do you want more off?” she says and I notice his face scrunch up.
He really likes his hair.
“Nah. That’s straight.”
“Then, we’re almost done, DJ,” she says before patting his shoulder.
I lean in and check on him. “You good?” I ask.
“Yes sir,” he says.
“A’ight. I’m running to the restroom. I’ll be back by the time she finishes,” I tell him and nod. He nods too.
I make my way through the shop and to the restroom. The men’s one is empty so I’m in and out by the time Red is finishing up with him. She’s holding the large hand-held mirror in front of him. His hand is on the handle too as he examines his cut.
“You like it?” she asks him.
“Yes. I like it,” he says excitedly.
“Good. I like it too. You are going to be so handsome at school.”
She removes his cape, brushes her hands across his shoulders, then lets the chair down, he climbs out. He looks at me and I nod, nudging him to thank and tip Red. I gave him a twenty before he walked in. After pulling it out of his pocket, he raises the bill up to her.
“Here. Thank you,” he says.
“Aww. Thank you, sweetie.”
He smiles and I step over to him. We checkout at the counter then exit the shop. My ride is parked a few spaces down. As soon as we are inside, he turns to me.
“What time I go to school in the morning?” he asks.
“Seven-thirty. We’ll leave around seven.”
“So, what time I got to get up?”
“Early. Enough time to get ready and eat something.”
“My cereal?” he asks.
“Your cereal or any of that other stuff we got,” I tell him.
I barely cook. When I do, I run into the store and pick up what I need.
Full blown grocery shopping isn’t my thing at all.
Last night, with his iPad, we placed an online pick-up order.
I needed to make sure that he has the things that he likes so I let him load the cart.
He shocked me though because he didn’t go overboard.
At his age, if given that opportunity, my lil ass would have bugged out on candy and bullshit but not him.
He picked a lot of fruits, cereals, and them frozen peanut butter and jelly shits, all varieties.
“Daddy?”
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I need a bookbag,” he says.
Fuck! I forgot all about his actual school shit. I focused so much on what he was going to eat before and after school, on his clothes and shoes, that I forgot all about his backpack and that big ass list of supplies that was in Little Einstein’s welcome folder.
“Shit,” I utter then shake my head. “We need that and your supplies.” I shake my damn head again then make the next left to head to The Shops at the Falls.
“I want a Marvin, the alien one,” he says.
“Who is Marvin, the alien?”
“You don’t know who that is?” he asks, sounding almost appalled.
I glance at him and he’s looking at me like I’m crazy as hell. Apparently, I should no who the fuck Marvin is.
“We’ll see what they have. If we can’t find it, you can get something else and I’ll look for Marvin online. You just need one for tomorrow. That’s cool?”
“Yeah,” he says, sounding less than cool. He really wants the Marvin one. Hopefully, we can find one.
About twenty minutes later, we are pulling up to the Shops. Parking here is a fucking nightmare and I hate it. They offer valet but I don’t like other people in my shit. I can kick myself for not remembering the book bag or supplies when we were here last week.
It takes about five minutes but I luck up on a park. Before getting out, I look up Little Einsteins and find the school supply list for first grade on the website. The shit is long as hell and half of the shit makes no damn sense.
Why the hell does a six-year-old need markers for the teacher’s white board and four packs of post it notes? Am I buying for the teacher or him? The fuck.
Since it’s back to school season, backpacks, school uniforms, and shoes seem to flood a majority of the store displays and windows. DJ and I search about five stores before he spots the bookbag with Marvin, the alien. Excitedly, he rushes to the rack and puts the bookbag on.
“I guess this is it?” I ask as I examine the colorful bookbag with the black alien on it. Something about it looks a little familiar. While pinching it to get a better look, I ask, “I know this. Where is he from?”
“Space Jams,” he announces.
“The list says a lunch box too. See if you like any of these,” I tell him.
Next to the racks of bookbags are more racks filled with so many options for lunch boxes.
With his Space Jam bookbag on his back, he checks the lunch boxes on the first two racks, one by one.
When he moves to the third rack, I step in. “What are you looking for?”
“One with Marvin,” he says so I join in the search.
We don’t find one that exactly matches his bookbag but we do find one with a few of the Space Jam characters on it, including Marvin. That satisfies DJ so, he holds it as we walk to the counter to check out.
“Do you need a bag?” the sista at the register asks DJ.
She immediately recognized his attachment to both the bookbag and the lunch box and was nice enough to use her hand gadget to ring up the items. He didn’t have to take his book bag off.
“No,” he says with a smile.
“No what?” I question.
“No, thank you,” he corrects.