I didn’t say anything in response to my father. He turned back around and finished rinsing the plates and spoons in the sink. My father then placed the bowls on the counter top next to the rice cooker, and then he grabbed a big spoon and he dug in the rice with the spoon and he began to put some in the two bowls.
I watched my father as he was standing. He stood at about 6 foot 5, my father was a bit thin but he possessed a lot of strength. I remember about two months ago we had to take the fridge out of the kitchen outside, we was throwing it out because the lights wasn’t turning on, and we had some meat in the freezer and they was all rotting away because the cooler in the freezer would come on and off occasionally. At times it would be off for at least 25 minutes, and then it would only turn back on for about 10 minutes. Me and some neighborhood friends of mines, it was about four of us, we all tried to move the fridge from the kitchen, and we wasn’t even able to lift it up, all four of us tried together, but to no avail. Then about 45 minutes later when my dad came home from work, he was able to lift the entire fridge up by himself and move it out the kitchen.
My father came to this country from Liberia at the age of 33, he is 55 now. When he came in this country he didn’t have any family or relatives here, so he was very poor and he really didn’t have anything. He had to get a job at Wal-Mart, pushing carts and helping people with their bags in order for him to get a place to live and to feed himself. When he was about 37 he met my mother at a Red Lobster’s somewhere in Philly. He met her there and that’s when things kicked off for him and her. As soon as he met her, the next day he married her. Because my father is Muslim and very Religious, and in Islam you’re not allowed to spend time with the opposite sex or have any interaction with them unless they are your spouse, so my father married her. A few days later after they got married my mother became pregnant with me, and a few years later she gave birth to my little sister. My father is 55 years of age now. Although I really like him and he’s very cool, sometimes I can’t really talk to him or tell him the things that I want to, because he would not be able to relate. Like I can’t talk to him about girls, or school, or peer pressure and things of that nature, because my father never really experienced that before. He grew up in a village somewhere in Liberia, while I’m growing up in the city of Philadelphia.
“You want me to drop you off at school tomorrow Jason?” My father asked me as he dipped the large spoon in the pot and he put some of the cassava leaf that he had just cooked on top of the rice.
I wanted to say yes, but then I remembered that tomorrow morning I was going to have to link up with Jerry and Joe, and we was going to smoke up in the morning before we went to school.
“Nah it’s cool, I’ma just walk.” I responded to him.
My father then got both of the bowl of rice and bought it over to the kitchen table where I was seated, he placed one of the bowls on top of the table next to me, and he placed a bottle of water also on the table in front of me. Then he rubbed my head with his palms, he looked at me and smiled. "Eat up Jason, I know you’re very hungry, did you eat today when you came from school?” He asked me as he placed his own bowl on the table next to him and sat down.
“Yeah, I had some sausages.” I said as I took a spoonful bite of the rice. It was very hot, but it was delicious though.
“What about at school today? Did you eat?” He asked me as he opened up his own water bottle and drank some down. My father always did that for some reason, he always drank water before he would start eating.
“Yeah bruh.” I said to my father as I took another bite and gulped some water down.
My father looked up at me. “So tell me about school today? What did you do?” He asked me.
I wanted to tell him that I got high and I told my crush that I liked her and was going to go to her house tomorrow after football practice and possibly fornicate with her, but that wouldn’t be right, that would not be the right thing to talk to your father about.
“Nothing much, same old same old.” I said to him. “How was work?”
My father looked at me to answer my question. “It was good Jason, I’m glad I’m home now though and can spend time with my family.” My father said to me while smiling.
“How was football practice?” He asked me.
FOOTBALL, I thought to myself. I have practice tomorrow after school, and I’m also going to smoke with Joe and Jerry before school tomorrow. I hope my high dies out before school is over, because I certainly would not want to go to practice all high.
“We had a game yesterday against the Bells, we lost of course, we didn’t have practice today, but tomorrow we’re gonna hit the field right after school.” I said to him.
“yeah, Insha’llah.” My father quietly said under his breath.
“Yeah, what you said.” I said to my father.
My father looked at me and smiled heavily.
“Why you so cheerful and happy today oldhead?” I asked my father.
My father looked at me and smiled harder. “Just happy to see you son.” He said as he reached over the table with his long arm and rubbed my head again.
I let him rub it, after he was done he drew his arm back and then I started to scratch my head and feel on top of it. My hair was growing. I had a full head of hair. I just got my haircut about a week and a half ago, now it was grown again. Idk why but my hair always grows fast, that always happened.
“My head wolfing oldhead, can you give me some money so I can get my haircut tomorrow?” I asked my father.
He then reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet and drew out a $50 bill and he handed it to me.
I looked at it. “I only need a dub oldhead, what you want me to do with all that?” I asked my father.
His face lit up and he smiled at me. “Yeah Jason I know a haircut is only $20, take the rest and use it for food at school, and buy your little sister something.” He said to me.
I slowly took the money from him. “Okay… if you say so.” I said to him.
My father was very kind, and he was very smart. He knew how much I loved and cared for my little sister Cynthia. I started thinking what is it that I’m going to buy for her? Then it finally came to me, I was going to buy for her more Oreos to replace the ones that I had stolen from her room earlier today.
My father withdrew his hand and put his wallet back in his back pocket. Then my father stared at me for a few seconds. He kept starring. Perhaps I had something on my face? I took my right palm and rubbed it over my face to make sure that I had removed anything that was on it.
“Is it gone?” I asked him.
My father kept staring bleakly at me with a blank expression on his face. He didn’t say anything. His weird behavior was beginning to spook me out a bit.
“Who is she?” Finally he said.
I said nothing. I just stared back at my father. He knew… about Christy! But how could he have known? I started thinking more about it. Also, how could Abdul have known earlier in the tracks today?
I started thinking of a response. I could just play dumb and ask my father “who’s who?” But my father is no fool. He knows me like he knows himself.
“Her name is Christy…” I said to him while sinking my head, as if I was disappointed.
My father then got up from his chair and walked over to me, he then kneeled down so that his eyes could meet my sunken eyes.
“Does she make you happy?” He asked me.