Chapter 13-Devon
“Hey, Dreux.”
“Hey, Dad,” he said as he climbed into my truck, placed his bookbag on the floor, and put on his seatbelt.
“How was your day?” I asked him as I pulled out of the parent pick up lane.
“It was good. I have a lot of homework to do,” he responded while shaking his head.
“You know, if you need my help, I got you. Just say the word.” He chuckles a little, making me snap my head in his direction. “What you over there laughing for, son?” That only made him laugh harder. Now he had me wondering what the hell was so funny.
I waited for him to stop snickering long enough for him to tell me what the joke was.
“Dad, no offense, but I actually want to keep making good grades. I think that I can handle it.” He gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, like he really knew what he was talking about.
With a drop of my shoulder, his hand was left hanging in the air.
“My boy, for your information, I kept good grades in school,” I replied, as I playfully mushed him on the side of his head. “I never brought home anything lower than a B plus, and the crazy part is, I wasn’t even trying like that.”
I thought back to when I was in school. It wasn’t even a front, because I really did make good grades back then.
At first, I did it to get my mama’s attention, because she never really seemed to care about me. I felt that if I made good grades, she would show some interest in being a maternal figure to me.
Needless to say, the first time I came home with straight A’s, she didn’t bat an eye. She damn near refused to look at the paper and called me a dumb ass nigga as she walked out the house to go out on a date. Like any other night, she didn’t come home.
That was when I realized that if I did something or wanted anything, I was going to have to want it for myself and not chase a goal to impress or gain acceptance from the next person.
“You did? Why didn’t you go to college then?”
“Because I didn’t see a need for me to and really, even if I thought about it, I didn’t have the support to do it. My focus was on making money and crossing the stage.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” he offered, and I could tell I needed to lighten up the conversation. There was a reason I didn’t relive my childhood, especially not with my son. The less he knew, the better.
“Don’t be sorry. I gained success without it,” I preached. “Son, everybody has a different path to take. College wasn’t for me. It may not be for you either, but understand that if you want to go, I’ll make sure you have all the support you need. I got your back. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, Dad. I know that you’re always in my corner.” That made me smile and was confirmation that I was doing right by my son. Something neither of my parents could say when it came to me.
“But, Dreux, you’re only in the sixth grade. Are you already thinking about college?”
“Yes, sir. I have to go to college to be what I want to be.”
“What are you trying to be? A boss like me?”
“No, sir, I want to be an attorney,” he said proudly with his chest sticking out, as if he knew without a doubt that he would accomplish it. His confidence was yet another way I knew I was doing right with him.
“An attorney?” I questioned, only slightly surprised.
With Dreux living with me, I had really started to see just how smart a kid he was. He was twelve years old, but his conversation was well beyond his years.
“Yes, sir, an attorney.”
“Why an attorney? Why not a doctor, or an astronaut, or a business owner like me?” I had to reiterate that because I’d always seen myself passing everything down to Dreux. All my hard work was done for his legacy, not mine.
“Because I want to help people. I watch the news, and I see how people treat black people just because of the color of our skin. They need somebody to help them. I want to be the person that helps them.”
“Dreux, you can be whatever you want to be, and you can do whatever you want to do in life. If you want to be an attorney, I will support you all the way through,” I responded, causing him to nod and smile.
“You can do whatever you put your mind and heart to. Whether you want to be an attorney or a damn astronaut, anything is possible and within reach as long as you do the work.”
I didn’t exactly have the worst upbringing, but my parents chose not to be active in my life.
I was the product of an affair; my mother, was a young, black teenager, and my father was a rich, married, bi-racial attorney.
He counted it as luck that he could pass off as a white man with a good tan, because it gave him the privilege of being able to forget where he came from.
I didn’t know what number wife he was on now, but none of his relationships pushed him to give a damn about me.
He wanted nothing to do with either of us, and my mama wanted nothing to do with me. She only had me because my grandparents made her. They raised me the first three years of my life.
When they died unexpectedly, I was forced on Renae. From the time that I could remember, I was always being babysat by one of Renae’s friends.
When I got old enough to stay at home by myself, she started disappearing for weeks at a time. Sometimes she would leave me with food and money, but sometimes she wouldn’t.
To this day, unless she wanted money, I didn’t hear from her. She came around with her hands out, and if she wasn’t broke, she was a ghost.
When I started to see characteristics of Renae in Keesha, I knew that my son didn’t need that in his life.
Being a parent was more than the act of making a child. Being a parent meant providing for them and making sure that you were there to nurture, love, protect, and guide them.
As for my sperm donor, Richard West, I knew that he sent Renae money to help raise me, to keep her quiet, and to keep her away from his wife, but I saw none of it. I would see the envelope come in the mail, and there was always a letter reminding her to stay quiet and to keep me out the way.
At one point, I saw his contributing to the house as him loving me, but the older I got, the more realistic my mindset became, and I saw the whole situation for what it really was.
I felt that if he loved me, he would have physically been there to make sure that I was good, just like I did for my son.
One day I looked him up and saw his picture-perfect family. He had a white wife, three white daughters, and he even had a white dog. He was mixed himself, but somehow, he wasn’t trying to go for having a child who was a mirror image of him.
Like I said, he’d been married more than a few times, but none of his wives or his kids had a drop of soul. Besides me, of course.
For whatever reason, my half-breed ass wasn’t good enough to be in the family pictures, but it was his loss. I turned out to be a good man, even though I experienced more than a few bumps in the road. I survived.
“Before I forget, who was the young lady you were talking to?”
I looked over at Dreux, who had turned red and slid down in the passenger seat.
“She’s my friend.”
“Oh, your friend ? Is that why y’all were skinning and grinning at each other? You can talk to me about girls, son. That is one thing I won’t lead you astray on.” This conversation was one I’d been waiting for since the day he was born.
My boy had his first crush, and I was here for it.
“Dad, you don’t even have a girlfriend.”
“Whoa, young buck. I may not have a girlfriend, but it’s only because I still have my players’ card … I do have a friend though,” I responded.
Glancing over, I tried to monitor his reaction to my admission. He sat straight up.
Oh, how quickly the tables had turned. Now he was ready to talk.“A friend? Is she a pretty friend? When can I meet her?”
“Yes, a friend. If I talk to her, then you should already know that she’s pretty. As for your meeting her, we will have to see if she’s special enough to meet you. Meeting you is a privilege.” I looked over to see him smiling and showing all his teeth as he nodded his head.
I didn’t make a habit of introducing my son to women, because I didn’t want him exposed to someone who wouldn’t be a permanent fixture in our lives, and I wasn’t going to start.
As special as I thought Kenya was, it would be a minute before they met.
I stopped at my barber shop to get Dreux a quick line up, we picked up dinner, and then headed home, so he could get his homework done.
While he was preoccupied, I decided to give my friend a call.
She answered on the second ring.
“Good evening, baby girl. How are you doing?”
“Hey, Devon. I am doing well, and yourself?”
“I’m doing great now that I’ve heard your voice,” I said, laying it on thick, stretched out on my couch, with my arm tucked behind my head, staring up at the ceiling, like I was experiencing my first teenage love affair.
“Do you wake up to make me smile, or does it happen naturally?”
Damn. Her response slightly surprised me, but in a good way. I was obviously growing on her. To feel like I was breaking down her barriers was one thing, but to hear her admit it was a feeling I couldn’t explain.
“It’s a little of both. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Hmmm … I could get used to it.”
“I mean, I wasn’t giving you a choice,” I joked, causing her to laugh.
“Wow … Okay,” she said as she blessed me with her sensual laugh. I had a feeling it wasn’t something she did often, but I was glad she trusted me enough to laugh with me.
“How did that case you were telling me about turn out?”
Kenya was tight-lipped with her cases because she had to be, but she did mention she was dealing with a scorned man, a dumb wife and a trifling twin brother.
She didn’t go deeper than that, and she didn’t have to for me to know the twin deserved to be shot dead in his ass. I could read between the lines and put two and two together.
“It worked in our favor. We settled out of court. He walked away a vindicated and wealthy man.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Do your thing, baby girl.”
“I do what I can, and what I can I do.”
“Damn. Check you out. What made you want to be a divorce attorney?”
“To be honest, it was the money. Being a divorce attorney is a very lucrative career. A lot of the cases that I have to deal with are black and white. Prenups, infidelity, and outside children are all things that give me the upper hand. In my opinion, it’s criminal and contract attorneys who have it the worst.”
“Makes sense … My son was talking to me today about being an attorney.”
“Really? Didn’t you say that he was only in the sixth grade?”
“Yes, but he said it’s what he wants to do. From our conversation, he chose it because he wants to fight for people’s rights regarding discrimination and racial injustice.”
“I know a few people who would let him shadow them if he is showing a genuine interest. Just let me know and I can make some calls.”
“That would be dope, and I know he’d love the experience.”
She didn’t even know it, but she was getting major points by showing curiosity in my son and an interest in what he was interested in. I could tell she was genuine about it too.
“There aren’t enough attorneys who look like us. It’s important that I invest in the next generation while I have the opportunity to do so. I’m where I am because somebody saw something in me and took the time to cultivate my talent.”
“I can get with that. Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Well, we are getting to know each other, so ask away.”
“Do you want kids? I’m not saying that I’m trying to put a baby in you or anything, but do you see kids in your future?”
“I do—I did—I mean that, yes, I do. Quite frankly, I thought that I would have them at this point in my life, but things don’t always go according to our plans.”
“I hear that. I mean, I made a good-looking son, so if you want to go half on a baby, just let me know.”
“Go half on a baby?” she asked, and I could tell that she was confused.
“Yes, it’s a joke. Like I go half by giving you the sperm, and you go half by providing the egg.”
“Oh, I get it,” she said between her laughs.
“There is so much for me to teach you,” I joked.
“I’m willing to learn.”
Well damn!
“I like that attitude. Keep it, and we’ll go far. Are we still on for our date tomorrow night?”
“Yes, we are. Are you still not telling me where we are going?”
“No, I’m not. Just dress comfortably and be prepared to have some fun.”
“The last time you said that, I ended up at a park, and by the time I made it home, I was covered in fly bites,” she responded, and I could hear the hesitation and borderline horror in her voice.
Baby girl sounded like she had a genuine case of PTSD.
“Yeah, my bad. Just give me a little trust, and I promise you’ll enjoy the outcome.”
“I can do that, as long as you don’t make me regret it.”
“Oh, you won’t.” Her getting bitten up at the park was on me, but I had every intention of making up for it.