Always Upbeat / All That by Stephanie Perry Moore Page B

and I was tired of pretending.
    As soon as I entered the house, he had his arms wide open like I was supposed to go to him and hug him. Yeah, he gave me a car, provided for all my needs, and had an open wallet where I was concerned, but I needed loyalty and love. I did not need bribes. Maybe the reason why my mom and I bumped heads a little bit was because we were so much alike. She was not going to take being handled just any kind of way, and neither was I. So I walked straight on past him.
    My dad said, “Wait, baby doll. Wassup with that? You can’t give your dad a hug?”
    Though he was a judge, he tried to act pretty cool. His problem was that he thought he was too cool. He thought could he get away with having another lady on the side. I was not buying it.
    â€œDad, just please,” I said. I kept walking.
    â€œWhat’s going on, Charli? It’s that Blake boy again. What did he do?” my dad asked, following behind me.
    I went to the kitchen and wanted to make myself a sandwich, and he had the audacity to ask me to make him one too. I turned around and looked at him.
    Then he snapped back, “I know you don’t have an attitude. I just asked you to make a sandwich. Goodness gracious, girl. You are not paying any bills around here. What is the problem?”
    â€œYou’re the problem, Dad!” I said, unable to hold it in.
    Shocked, he said, “Excuse me?”
    â€œLast night I was out and about, and I saw my father with some lady I did not know, holding each other all laughing, giggly, and stuff. It was crazy, and it wasn’t right. You are the problem. What was that about, Dad? You’re married, or did you forget?!”
    He stepped over to me and raised his hand. I stepped back, and I guess he caught himself because he pulled back and didn’t slap me. If he would have hit me, he would have been wrong because I didn’t deserve to be punished for bringing out his indiscretions.
    â€œWhat were you doing, following me? You’re a kid, girl. You have no business being in mine! That was a colleague and—” he defended.
    Cutting him of, I huffed, “Dad, are you serious? I just happened to stumble upon you and whoever she was in that black dress, and she wasn’t going to a funeral, more like a night club. Your lips were practically touching hers! I wanted to follow you, trust me, I did, but I got lost. Another car jumped in front of me, so who knows which way you went? But when I got home at eleven, you were nowhere in sight. Colleague meetings run that late?”
    â€œYou misunderstood what you saw. You had absolutely no right to follow me. What were you doing out that late anyway? I’m going to have to talk to your mom about this. Did you talk to your mom about this?” he asked, realizing what he was saying.
    I just went over to the sink and washed my hands. I put soap on them and was thankful for the wonderful aroma of the soap, which usually calmed me down. Unfortunately, the smell could not diminish the intense moment. I was getting more upset.
    Quickly, I rinsed off the suds, dried my hands, and went over to the refrigerator. He was talking. He was saying all kinds of stuff. Who knew what he was saying because I refused to listen. Besides, the brash tone he was using was not right.
    With lettuce in one hand and sandwich meat in the other, I turned to him and said, “Dad, I love you. I thought you loved Mom. I thought you loved us. But what I saw, what I know—though I might be a kid, I’m more mature than you think—wasn’t right. No, I didn’t tell Mom. I would never tell her that. I didn’t want to break her heart, but you’re breaking her heart anyway.”
    We both were startled when my mother came to the kitchen door and said, “Roger, our baby is growing up. I don’t know whether to be angry that she saw what she saw or thankful.”
    My father didn’t know whether to calm my