“Because we have, look behind you,” he said pointing his head to the restroom area.There was a yellow sign that had a picture of a black stick figure falling on its behind.The sign simply read, “Caution Slippery When Wet.” However, it was not the sign thatcaught my attention. It was the man who was cleaning up the mess.
I squinted and focused. I realized that the man with the mop was my father, ourfather. He looked so thin. He had sunken cheeks, complimented with a nappy beard. Hewas wearing a ripped pair of blue jeans, a wife beater shirt, and a butcher’s stained apron.My heart began to pound. He must have felt my eyes on him because he looked over andstared right at me. I spun around in my chair and faced Ali.
“Oh my goodness, it’s daddy,” I said.
Ali just looked at me and shook his head. No. This couldn’t be happening. I felt likethere was a hammer in my chest pounding away at my heart. I clasped it with my hand,like an old man before a heart attack, hoping that it wouldn’t give out on me. Thoughtswere rushing through my head. He was the man who we believed was our father. He wasthe one who had rejected us, abandoned us, and left us with nothing. He was the papabear who had decided that his life was more important than his family’s. I turned aroundslowly and saw that he was walking over to our table.
“Shit! Ali. He’s coming over,” I said. He just stared and then smiled coldly. “Mija.”The voice said.
I turned around and stared at the man I thought was my father. He had his hat in hishands and was looking down like a vagrant begging for scraps of food. Confused, Iturned around and looked at Ali.
“He wants money,” Ali said casually.
“What?” I couldn’t believe it.
The waitress came over and placed scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of Ali.He picked up his fork and began to shovel the food into his mouth.
“Mija, please, help your old man. I’m sick,” he said.
Ali reached over the table and picked up the salt. He sprinkled some on his eggs,closed the lid of his sandwich and took a huge bite.
“I ain’t proud of myself, I ain’t proud of how my life turned out. But you two lookgood though.” He went on like a vagabond who had lost every morsel of his self-respect.
Ali stared off into the distance, chewing his food like a castrated cow.
“I am sorry that I wasn’t around. As you can see, I am toxic. And your momma did agood job without me,” he said.
Ali swallowed his glass of orange juice in one gulp, slammed it down and looked athim.
Get the fuck away from our table,” Ali said. “Son, don’t be like that.”
“I ain’t your fucking son.” Ali spat, sending him a baleful glare. “She looks good?Look at her fucking face! Thanks to you she’s getting her head beat in everyday,” Alisaid standing in his seat. I looked around the restaurant. There was a couple sitting next tous who tore their eyes away when I found that they were listening. People in front andbehind us were rubbernecking around tall booths to stare at us.
“Ali stop, you’re making a scene,” I whispered.
Our father just stopped and stared at me. He blinked a couple of times and our eyesmet. Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. They were my eyes. We both had his eyes.
“And in case you ain’t heard, our fucking momma is dead,” Ali said throwing theempty glass at him. Our father shifted sharply to the right, holding his hand up to blockhis face. The glass hit the ground, shattering into a dozen pieces.
“Ali!” I screamed.
A man dressed in a shirt and tie walked over to our table. “Okay young man, I amgoing to have to ask you to leave.”
Ali slid out of the booth.
“Come on, Nelly, I can’t stand to look at this motherfucka anymore,” he said.
Our father lifted his head. “The shadows killed her and they’re killing you too.”
“Fuck You!” Ali charged him. The man with the shirt and tie caught him and placedhim in a bear hug. He couldn’t hold him. Ali twisted out of his embrace and began toplunge forward like a quarterback heading for the field goal. Several men raced out of thekitchen and tackled him down.
“Get him out of here!” someone yelled.
Like an angry mob, they strung him up and forced him out the door.
I looked at my father. He stood motionless, staring after us. I ran out to the sidewalk.Ali chest was heaving and his hands were balled up into fist.
“You see that shit. You see that shit,” Ali yelled pacing up and down the sidewalk.
“That motherfucker wouldn’t even look at me. You know how many times I’ve beento this piece of shit diner?” Ali ranted.
“And the first fucking thing he asks for is money. From my seventeen year oldsister.” Ali yelled this swinging his fist. His temper was piping hot and I didn’t knowwhat to do to try and control him.
“Ali, calm down,” I said.
“That motherfucker deserves to die,” he said snarling like a dog.
“But first, we’re going to take care of Maria’s fat ass.”
“What?”
“We’re going to go and show Nico your face,” Ali said. “No. Ali. I don’t want to seeNico,” I said, protesting.
How did this happen? I only told one lie and it seemed to be spiraling out of control.I didn’t want to go and see Nico; I just wanted Ali to come home. I shook my head,debating if I should just come clean and tell him the truth, but Ali was furious. And I wasafraid that he wouldn’t listen to reason. I just wanted to go back home, with Ali andforget about ever
