Chapter 9 #2
I started getting antsy in my seat, feeling like his ass wasn’t going to come from the back, but eventually, that cocky walk swaggered from the back, that big smile was showing on his face, showing off those dimples that I’d inherited from him, and you would have thought that he was walking out of his room from a 5 star resort somewhere in the Caribbeans, instead of coming from the back, where his cell was, and where he’s spent the last 30+ years.
His eyes scanned the room, and it didn’t take long for them to fall on me.
I was such a fuckin crybaby because the second his eyes landed on me, I saw the gleam that appeared in them, and that melted something in me because I started crying, as I stood up from my chair, waiting for him to make it over to me.
Over the years, my dad would always tell me that he hated to see me crying, especially since he knew that his shortcomings, and his absence were the primary reason for a lot of my tears, so the second he saw those tears fall from my eyes, he moved swiftly throughout the visitation room, making his way over to me, and I crashed into him, putting my head into his chest, crying because I was happy to see him.
His strong arms lifted, and he cradled the back of my head with his hands, being gentle with me, like he always was.
“Sssh. Sssh. You’re breaking my heart, baby. Come on. Don’t do this shit to me,” his voice was soft, cracking a little bit along the way, as if he was moments away from shedding tears of his own.
My mom used to tell me that I was my dad’s favorite person, and that I had power over his emotions that no one else ever had.
She’s told me that as long as she’s known him, she’s never seen him cry, unless it pertained to me.
My dad was tough, and he could handle a lot of things.
My mom told me in the past that years ago, when he was sentenced, he never shed a tear.
She said that it was her, his mother, and his side of the family that had broken down in court, but he remained calm.
She told me that he didn’t break until she put me on the phone one time, and I started babbling the words, “da- da”.
“Henry. Don’t make me be the bad guy, please. That’s enough contact. Please take your seat across the table,” I heard one of the guards demand my father. I knew that was eventually going to come, which is why I really had been trying to control my emotions, but it was hard to.
My cycle had come on yesterday morning, and around that time of the month, my emotions were all over the place, which is why I was much more emotional this morning than any other time in the past.
“It’s okay, daddy. I’m okay,” I said, pulling away because I knew my dad.
He was going to pretend that he didn’t hear the guard, and he wouldn’t let me go until I was finished having my moment.
He used his hands, so that he could wipe my tears, and then he placed both hands on the side of my face, kissed my forehead, and like the gentleman that he’s always been to me, he pulled my seat out, so that I could sit down, and once I was seated, he walked around the table, taking his seat.
I looked at my dad in complete adoration.
I didn’t adore the position that he was in, but it was more so me merely adoring how handsome he was, and how handsome he continued to get over the years, even with him getting older.
I have no idea what the hell was in this prison water, or the food, but it had him aging backwards.
If he beat parole, and was able to come home, I could only imagine the women that were going to be on his trail.
My rich chocolate skin was inherited from my father.
I know that a lot of dark-skinned girls would grow up, and have insecurities about their complexion, but I never went through that phase in my life.
My daddy used to call me a beautiful, black barbie, and always tell me how the two of us had perfect chocolate skin, so he built me up to be confident in my skin tone sine I was a little girl.
Before my dad had gotten locked up, he used to have long hair, and it was often styled in braids.
I know because of the many pictures my mom has shown me over the years.
Being in prison, he had to cut his hair, so he’s been rocking waves for as long as I could remember.
I don’t know what kind of products his ass was mixing up while he was in here, but his hair was so nice, and healthy.
He kept a clean face, and his skin was so perfect.
He's gotten so many tattoos during his time here, so as he sat before me in his orange jumpsuit, with his arms folded, you could see both sleeves that he had on his arms, along with the ones that were on his hands. He dedicated his entire right arm to me. My baby picture was there, along with my full name, which was Dionne Giselle Henry. You would think that because he’d gotten these tattoos while he was locked up, that his tattoos would look like prison tattoos, but these were truly works of art, almost looking like my sisters, Free’s work.
“I hate when you do that shit. Break my fuckin heart doing that,” he voiced, and I laughed, while rolling my eyes.
“Daddy, that shit hurts, seeing you coming from the back like that. Mommy had already given me a pep talk on the way over here, telling me not to cry because she knows how it upsets you, but that little pep talk went out the window the moment that I saw you. How are you? You look good,” I complimented him, and like that was his favorite thing to hear, he started smiling.
“I’m cool. I feel like I’m in a good spot in my life right now.
I’m locked in with life in a way that I’ve never been locked in before.
I been staying out the way, getting into my bible more, and telling God all my hearts desires.
With my parole hearing coming up sometime this year, I’m not trying to do anything to fuck that up, you know?
” he asked me, and I smiled at his question, only hoping that the things that he was saying were the truth.
So many times I’ve come down here to visit my dad, and I would ask him how he was doing, and he would always have these good things to say, and tell me about the positive path that he was on, only for a few days to go by, and I wouldn’t hear from him, which would leave me with no choice but to call down to the prison to see what was going on, and I would learn from one of the officers that he was in trouble again, and was spending time in the hole.
“What about you, baby girl? What’s new in your life? How are your sisters?” he asked me. Even though my sisters weren’t my dad’s children, he made it his business to ask about them each time that I would come visit him.
“I’m starting a new business venture, but I don’t want to talk about it too much until I have something to show for it.
Nobody knows, so don’t jump down my throat, saying how I’m always leaving you out of stuff because that’s not true.
My sisters are good. I talked to Free this morning, while I was on the way over here.
Tommie is good too,” I let him know, and he smiled, while nodding.
“How’s Tommie’s girls doing? They still in college, right?” he asked, referring to my nieces.
“They’re good. Tailynn is in her junior year, and this is Tru’s first year of college. Tru goes to college in Miami, and she doesn’t live on campus, so we see her all the time,” I smiled, as I was talking about my nieces.
Tru was the one that had stressed the entire fuckin family out a couple of years ago because of the trafficking shit that she’d gotten herself into, but she’s done a complete change with her life.
That girl goes to school, and when she wasn’t home studying, or doing homework, she was at the hair salon, where she was renting a booth, and she was taking clients.
With the help of social media, and the fact that my niece had talent when it came to doing hair, her business has been booming.
I was just glad that she’d gone to college, and she was pushing to get that business degree.
She wanted to do cosmetology school after earning her business degree.
When I say that I was proud of that girl, I really meant it because for so long, her ass had me, and everyone else scared for her.
“What your mama been up to with her shit talking ass?” he asked, and that question had me laughing.
“She’s good. I can’t wait until you come home and see her.
You going to want her back. She looks so good.
Nothing about her gives that she’s a woman in her fifties.
Every time we go out, men never believe that she has grown ass daughters.
They think that she’s our age. She won’t entertain none of them though.
The two of you must be having conversations on the side, and she must be holding you down because it’s no way she be turning all these men down like that,” I expressed, and when I said that, he shook his head.
“Your mama probably just reached an age where she’s not trying to experiment with no more niggas.
Me and her don’t even talk like that. Every time I hit her up, we get into it about some bullshit.
I already know that a big part of her is angry at me for the wrongs that I did in the past, which landed me in this fucked up situation.
I forced her to live a life where she had to raise you on her own, and then she went on to have three more children with them other bum ass niggas,” he spat, and if Free was sitting next to me right now, she would have cursed him out because Free didn’t play when it came to her daddy.
She would be ready to kill any, and everything when it came to that man.
“You going to try and get back with her when you come home?” I asked him, and that question had him smiling that million-dollar smile.
“Shit, what you think?” he asked, and I chuckled because I should have known that that was going to be his answer.