time. I could only hope that my faith in the rock of my salvation would prove stronger than the boulder of my past.
“Dana?” My father’s slippers hit against the floor like a flyswatter against a screen door.
“Yes, Dad. It’s me.” I tensed, then walked to the kitchen, knowing that’s where I’d find him. Watching as he started the Day Two recipes for the dinner—things that were best made on the day of eating, dough for rolls, salad and the pineapple passion fruit punch Tracey served for her reception—I marveled at the care with which he prepared this food and the disdain with which he lived his life. Though he’d cleaned up these past few months living with Jordan, he refused to get a job or go to church, a place he had once loved.
My heart raced at the memory of his baritone voice slipping over the sanctuary. I’d loved watching everyone’s backs hit the pews as he sang the pain out of them, drawing out the sting of a long week with each honeyed note. And if any hurt was left, well, it was nothing a slab of ribs or a plate of hot fish couldn’t cure. I sighed. Why were things so simple, but so complicated?
“You’d better get them young folks up and dressed if you all plan to get to church on time. Takes about thirty minutes just to find a parking spot over there. And don’t you have to sing? You look like—”
“Daddy.” I took another sip of tepid water and put the teakettle on the only available burner.
“Well, you do. Tea isn’t going to help those bags under your eyes. Grab one of those cucumbers and go lay down. I’ll set you out some clothes and get those children going.” He paused, probably thinking of just how many children he was really referring to.
Set me out some clothes? I hadn’t heard him say that in years. He’d once heard me complaining to Mama after service about being too old for the ruffled taffeta dress he’d chosen for me. The next Sunday he’d told me to go and put something on with my grown self and that had been that. What a fool I’d been. I needed somebody to lay my clothes out today. I needed somebody to lay out my life. “Thank you, Daddy,” I said, slicing a bowl of cucumbers—after recovering from the shock of actually having cucumbers—and heading for my room.
“Thank you, moppet.”
Moppet. My lips curled inward remembering the blowout Easter afro that had earned me the name. As the day went on, everyone else’s hair got bigger. Mine shrank, flopping at my ears until I looked like a little brown rug, parted down the middle. Muppet they’d called me, until Daddy corrected them. “No. Moppet. She’s so cute you could wipe up the floor with her.”
It was corny and he was drunk when he’d said it, but that didn’t lessen the hot, sappy feeling rising in my gut as he said it now. “Oh, Daddy.” I hugged him with all the strength I could muster.
He squirmed and wiggled, waving me off as though I were a killer bee. “Go on now. Women. Never know when they’re going to act crazy.”
I giggled. Men. I always knew when they were going to act crazy. As long as they’re breathing. I stretched and set out across the dining room, which had shaped up nicely without the cardboard boxes that had once filled it. I wondered what kind of crazy outfit Daddy would “set out” for me.
My front door exploded in a chorus of angry knocks before I could think on it further. I inched along with my head tilted back to keep the cucumbers on my eyes, but one fell off with a splat. In true teen boy form, Jericho jumped out of the recliner and ducked onto the balcony, choosing to weather the pouring rain and freezing temperatures rather than the impending storm in my apartment.
With a sigh, I stuffed the remaining cucumber in my pocket, then started for the door. Still Sundays, I used to call them. If God let me see one again, I’d never complain.
Shemika pulled her covers up around her neck as I passed her. I shook my head. “Tell him to get back in here before he catches pneumonia.”
The girl looked torn. “He thinks it’s his mother.”
“Nah. This one’s for me.” I knew Dahlia’s crazy knocking anywhere. No doubt, Trevor had gone home and shared his imaginary escapade with my