Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Roman nodded. It was true. Mama had edema and was on a constant supply of water pills and a bland, low sodium diet. She’d suffered from it for years. It was better now, but still not resolved.
“How’s ya mama’s job going? She still working at that shop that makes the stockings, slips and bras?”
“I told you she doesn’t work there anymore. Ain’t worked there in almost a year. She’s retired, a homemaker now. I help her out here and there, but she’s living fine on her husband’s salary.” The man’s brows rutted hard. Roman had seen his father about three months prior. Last time, he’d omitted the line about Mama’s husband. This time, he allowed it to fall off his tongue just as easy as a dead leaf in autumn.
“He isn’t no stepdaddy to any kid of mine. You got one father, Roman. That’s me.” He held up one finger. His nostrils flared.
“I don’t call him my stepfather. I call him by his name, Ronald. I was already grown and out the house by the time they tied the knot. He treats her fine, though.”
“Ronald McFuckin’ Donald. Backstabbin’ clown.” His face clouded with anger. “I should give your mother a call. I ain’t heard her voice in a mighty long time. Does she still make that walnut and raisin cake? Damn, that was good.” His expression softened.
“Daddy, why do you always ask about Mama? Y’all been legally divorced for ’bout fifteen years now, separated longer, and you’ve had a gang of women since her.”
Daddy shrugged, chewed his jaw a bit and looked over to his left as if the answer were sitting in that direction. “Sex, like and love are not the same. I never remarried ’cause I didn’t want to. Never loved a woman like I loved your mother—we just weren’t good for each other.” His jaw clenched. “I don’t care what no paper says. I love her still, and always will. That’s my wife in my heart and soul. I was incarcerated at the time at the J. Dale Wainwright Unit, and couldn’t fight for my marriage.”
“Daddy, Mama divorced you because me, Jordan and Dakota were put in foster care due to you two fighting, and your druggin’ and drinkin’ and what not. You weren’t in prison when she filed those papers. She did it so she could get us kids back in her custody. The court said the homelife wasn’t fit for children. It was either you or us. She had to prove to the court that we’d be safe if we were returned to her.”
Daddy’s eyes widened as if he’d seen a ghost. It wasn’t often that he and his father discussed what went on in the past—at least not the ugly stuff. For some reason though, Roman was tired of hiding how he truly felt about the unpleasant mess that happened then as of late. Maybe it was all this nasty business with Grandpa that made him spill his guts? Maybe it was the old men of the past making the young men of the future feel some type of way?
“Well, all I know is that I was locked up and before I knew it, I was being served, and my boys were being raised in some stranger’s house. I know that the Bradleys and Pitmans took decent care of y’all, and I know I’m supposed to be grateful, but I’m not.”
“You wouldn’t let Grandpa take us. He volunteered. We ended up being separated. It was for seven months, the longest of my life. I just wanted to go home.”
Daddy leaned back in his plastic white chair that wobbled on the right-hand side and crossed his arms. His eyes turned to dark slits, and his lips pursed tight like a clam.
“Your grandfather wasn’t an option, Roman. That son of a bitch didn’t raise me right and made certain my mama had a heart attack on account of dealing with him, so what makes you think me, or your mother, would let that gotdamn snake near y’all unsupervised? I’d rather my boys been raised by an axe murderer.”
“Trust me, I know why now. I’m just sayin’ that at the time, I never questioned it because we were at Grandpa’s house often, so he seemed okay. My reason for—”
“If you boys were at my father’s house, I was there with you. You best believe it. Me and your mama, or at least one of us. If neither of us could be there to supervise, y’all wouldn’t go. End of story. Now don’t get me wrong, my father loves little children.” Daddy reached for a bottle of water, took a taste, then set it down. “Treats babies good, even if it is for ulterior motives. Once the boys get into their teen years, that’s when the devilment begins. My father sees himself as some general forming an army.”