Chapter 21 #2
I heard him, but his speech didn’t settle into my brain. It ran out of my ears with ease, never to be thought about until I closed my eyes from the narcotics easing my physical pain.
“Dad?” August Junior called out.
“Yes?”
“Did you hear me?”
“I did.” I nodded, slamming my body back onto the bed.
As I stared at the ceiling, feeling empty and useless, he said, “I gotta get ready for biology. I’ll check on you later. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you mo’,” I told him, feeling as if I was drowning.
When our call ended, King said, “I’m proud of you for opening up to him. Keep that same attitude with the therapist who’ll be here in one hour and thirty minutes. Call Azaria.”
Nodding, my fingers trembled as I retrieved my phone from my lap.
“You can do this, Son,” Momma voiced as I felt the bed above my head sink in.
“Mhm,” I said, dialing Mona’s number.
“Speaker phone that call,” King ordered, opening a bag of chips.
“Mhm,” I replied, slapping my thumb on the speaker choice.
Momma’s hand patted the top of my head as if she were looking for my face. While I slid closer to her, Mona’s line trilled. My heart galloped as nervousness sat on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
The ringing stopped, leaving me to hear the familiar singsong of my name.
“Dadaaaaa!” Azaria said excitedly.
Right eyelid fluttering, I stuttered, “Azariaaaa.”
“Miss you,” she said cutely, bringing forth tears.
“I miss you too,” I admitted, even though I was unsure if I missed her or missed the me who was sure of who I was.
“Come see you?” she asked proudly.
“Not yet. I’mma come see you in ‘bout two weeks.”
“No!” she shouted angrily.
“Daddy not right, Azaria. In two weeks, I’mma be good. I’mma see you then. Okay?” I choked up, closing my eyes.
“No!” she barked before crying.
“Azaria, don’t throw my phone!” Mona said, nearby. “He said he’ll see you in two weeks. He has injuries, honey. I’m sure he’s having difficulty managing his right knee while on crutches. Grab your yogurt cup so I can see when the best time for y’all to video chat is.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She choked up.
Sternly, she said, “Listen, well, August Senior, because I’m only going to say this shit once.
You hurt me, not our kids. Get your shit together so you can resume being their father.
Unless you want me to have full custody of the two we made.
August Junior’s migraines are back. I don’t know if he’s stressed about us or if college is kicking his ass.
But I told him to check out a doctor who accepts his insurance. When can you video chat with Azaria?”
“I can’t,” I answered pathetically.
“What’s the reason, so I don’t have to lie to her?” she probed nonchalantly.
“I feel I ain’t worthy to talk or be ‘round her. I’on know who I am, Mona,” I confessed as she sighed heavily.
“You know exactly who you are. I know what happened 18 years ago, August. You aren’t a careless man. You are a man who will burn bridges for his son. Seek a therapist. Heal from the things that hurt you. If you don’t, you will never recover,” she offered softly.
“To heal, I need to know what I did to you. All of it,” I said in a tone that was foreign to me—whiny, desperate.
“Azaria, sit tight for a minute,” Mona spoke uncomfortably as the time had arrived for her to spill what I had done to her. King leaped off the dresser onto my bed, causing me to growl and glare at him.
“Don’t do that again,” I hissed, wishing I could shove him off the bed.
Aiming the pointer at my shitbag, he wickedly smiled. “I see shit coming out of that stoma. Look at me like that again and have the audacity to growl at me … that acidic brown liquid will be displayed on that pretty ass truck in that garage. Focus on that phone call, nigga.”
“You can leave, King,” I spoke through gritted teeth.