This is kind of a continuation of ‘Spots’ I’m thinking of making this a build up to something who know, I got a couple ideas. I could always use more, throw this girl some ideas
Sunday mornings were methodical, start the day with breakfast, cartoons, and a work out. That was the best way of keeping busy and sane, to remember he had a kid in the house, his kid in the house. Take care of yourself, take care of your own, his old man taught him that. His dad didn’t have time to teach him to know what to do with a kid, but of late the easiest solution was keeping his with him always.
Proud family reruns are on and dirty cereal bowls put in the sink, he’s on to his third set of pushups when lil girl starts to wiggle, “You fixin’ to fall off?” he turns his head the best he can to catch a look of the little body perched on his back.
“ ‘m, bored.” She wiggles across the smooth expanse of his back until she’s no longer cross legged but now on her stomach, she leans down and presses a kiss to his cheek bone. “Can we go outside today?”
He can’t hide the slight flinch at having the little pursed lips pressed to his face, he chooses to turn back to the floor and double down on his pushups “I still got work, we jaguars, we can hang out at night an shit,” Less of a concern of people, more work he gets the more crazies he acquires. Just last month he’d used some rulers kid to get a faster crack in the peace of the country…was it Iraq, nah that was the mission before, Afghanistan? That doesn’t seem…
“If I sit super still, and I don’t play with your spots on your arms, even though they are very fun to tickle, can we please play?” She presses her face next to his as they go up and down, draped over him like a sloth.
He huffs and stops, arms fully extended, “You gonna sit still anyway, you gon’ keep those little fingers to yourself or Imma bite them clean off,” he snaps his teeth at the little chubby cheeks next to his own and watches as she slides off his back with a shriek and a thud on the carpet next to him. He waits for tears, moves to lean back against the couch to wait for it, all the kids he’s encountered were full of tears and screams. None come, he pokes at the little ball she’s tucked herself into with his foot, once, twice, before she flops out flat and bursts into giggles. Tricked into caring again “you good, sweet thang. Get up.”
Her dark brown eyes shine with excitement as her grin spreads wide “We gon’ play now?”
He pretends to think while he runs his tongue over his teeth, tilting his head. His eyes flick over the hopeful little thing that’s spread out like starfish on the carpet. He sighs and moves up and onto the couch, “I’m gon’ sleep, you gonna tell me the rest of that story you were cookin’ up with yo barbies. Cool?” Her little cheers fill the tiny one room apartment, he stands up and flops onto the couch with tired and fluid grace. He can hear his baby girl looking for the right dolls before she’s pulling herself up onto the couch and settling on top of his stomach and giving a dramatic clearing of her throat, his half-hidden chuckle makes her bounce up and down with the rhythm of his laugh as she giggles.
“Daddy! Stop it!” she wiggles on his stomach before holding up her two barbies, “Kay, kay, so princess was fightin’ the invisible, super dumb, mean, bad guys who called her daddy mean names and she was winnin’,” This is punctuated by one barbie soaring through the air while his sweet thang threw punches at her invisible foe, he grabs her little fist and untucks her thumb before letting his eyes slide closed. “But then...that invisible mean guy started callin’ her names and her super hair lost its power and she wanted to maybe ask her daddy, who is king, if she could make it straight like Rapunzel”
Deadly Brown eyes snap open to meet their innocent counterparts staring back, “Whatchu just say?” The growl reverberates as he sits up and she slides off his stomach and onto his lap. His voice begins to grow as the room weighs heavy with fear “Who gave you some piece of shit idea like ruinin’ yo hair?! Hell, you ain’t doin nothing but caring for yourself until you’re old enough to know what shit like that says about you to this world!”
The muscle in his jaw ticks as he rolls his shoulders and moves her off him “I ain’t playin games lil girl, I don’t have time to fix shit like that, we gon fix this now. Put in your time” He ignores her sniffs and whimpers as he kicks the coffee table out of the way and settles down into a pushup position “Did I ask you for sass or did I tell you to put in your time,” slowly the little form gets into her own pushup position face to face with him. Her eyes cast down and the barbies long forgotten on the couch.
“Lemme hear ya say it” he snarls at her, keeping the pace for her “What are you?”
“I am royalty!” One right angle push up.
“Louder. Whatchu got?”
“I got a duty to my people!” four perfect push ups.
“Further. Who are your people.” He grins, watching her struggle to push herself back up.
“My black brothers and sisters!” Her brow furrows as she calls out her answer,
“How you gonna help them out?”
“By--” a sob slips passed as she hits the ground.
“Aye! Push up! I ain’t raising a nobody, I’m not here to coddle a slave girl, You. Get. Up!”
Sobs are interrupted only by gasps as the struggle continues to lift herself “You’ve done eight, I want two more, get up lil girl or are you waiting for someone to carry you?” A thunderous boom fills the room as his fist beats the floor “Not happening! Get up!”
She looks up, a quick flick of the eyes reuniting the deep russet brown to her creators. He can see it then, the fire sparks and the hunt begins. He might make a true panther of her yet “Get up lil girl.”
Her arms shake, she cries out after the first attempt and her knees fall, she tries again and again, and he loses count of how many failures she has. Failure is meaningless, success is what mattered, you either eat or you starve. He just needs to know which one his sweet thang will choose. Needs to know if he needs to cut ties now while the weakness sets in on her or if he can stick around a bit longer, make a change that doesn’t start with blood and end with death.
Eight perfect pushups and one dawning feeling of the struggle to survive “I’mma help them--I’mmm goin’ to put them in their place!”
“And where is their place, huh, your black brother and sisters, where do they belong?” He can’t hide the glee on his face, it grows with the restlessness that lays deep inside burning in his stomach and clenching a smoldering fist on his heart.
“At the top!” Ten perfect pushups, a panther, and his fully realized cub sit among tears and spit, and realization.
