A/N: Just wanted to say I love y'all omg. Y'all literally made my entire life! Lol and I ain't gonna drag my ex. He's a good dude he ain't do me grimy or nun. We just were going in different directions in life and we were no longer what each other needed. But thanks for all the support omg. Now let's hope I can still write this story now that I know love don't exist 🙃😂.
Devonte
By the time my father arrived, everybody was eating and laughing. My plate was piled high with all the staples, and my aunt did not come to play. Everything slapped. I sat in the living room with Trey, and his sister Ciara. We were joking around, reminiscing on old times. My aunt and Uncle and their friends were mostly in the kitchen. I could tell from how loud it was getting in there they had got the beer out and shit.
You could tell when my father walked in the house, because the energy just changed. My aunt let out a scream, and I looked up, thinking she was in danger or sum.
Instead I was greeted with her hugging a tall, very muscular man like her life depended on it. My dad was low key a giant. A couple tears scampered down her face as she rocked in his arms.
"Deondre," she sobbed.
My father. When she finally released him, my uncle came over, and gave him a back slap.
"Welcome home," my uncle said.
My aunties friends then came up to him, welcoming him back.
"Devonte is in the living room, but Andre ain't here yet. Go see him, I'll fix you a plate," she commanded him.
When my father turned to face me, I felt nervous all of a sudden. I ain't have no idea how this reunion was gonna go.
"You ready?" Trey was at my elbow as I pushed myself out of my chair. I was suddenly wishing there weren't so many eyes watching us.
"Yeah."
"That's Devonte?" My pops said, doing a double take. I kept forgetting he hadn't seen me since I was a child. Well, my ass was damn near a man now.
He scanned me. I did the same. I had an image of my father burned in my brain and he looked very similar to how he looked eleven years ago. The only difference was he was now way more muscled. His skin, which was one shade darker than mine, gave no hint of his age. No wrinkles, nun.
Obviously he had showered and changed before getting out, because he was outfitted in clothes that looked brand new.
I thought I saw approval in his eyes, and for some reason that made me feel good. I wondered what he saw in my eyes.
"This the son that refused to visit me the entire time I was locked up." My father mugged me. "Where's the son that actually wanna be my son?"
"You wasn't much of a father before getting locked up," I muttered.
"I kept a roof over your head, and clothes on your back, so play me again."
I looked around at everyone watching our exchange. "I ain't about to do this here."
I knew animosity between me and my dad was just providing them free entertainment, so I cut the show short.
It went against every thought in my mind, but I stuck my hand out. "Welcome home."
He eyed me, but finally took my hand. But I saw thinly veiled anger in his eyes and knew this was far from over.
"What it do family!" I released my father's hand at the sound of Andre's voice. His ass finally made it. Trey and Andre were like the same height, around 6'4". But Trey was a skinny ass nigga. Dre was solid, like me. And my dad. We had similar features, but Andre was lighter than me. He also had a full beard going. Other than that, it was obvious we were brothers, and even more obvious our father was our father. It always had been. There was no denying the family resemblance so it stung even more whenever my father would deny I was his son.
Easily he walked through the room, giving dap. "Pops? That yo ugly ass?"
"Keep playing," my father snapped, but he was smiling. Going back to my seat on the couch, I watched them interact. But it was easy for Andre to play around and joke with my dad. For one, they knew each other better. For another, Andre basically got along with everyone, he was the easygoing social one, I was the tight-lipped standoffish one.
My pops grabbed Andre in a man-hug. A short, thick girl trailed Andre. She had a long, red weave, a tight sweater and a pair of skinny jeans on and UGGs. She actually pulled the look off well. That must have been Dre's girl because I ain't think my father would bring his girl to the function. She probably just dropped him off or sum.
"I been telling everybody, you was swole as a mothafa," Andre was saying. "Oh and shit, my bad. Pops, this is Kennedy."
My dad nodded at her. That's when my aunty came back, with his plate.
"Andre! Bout time you got here." She handed over the plate and put her hands on her hips. My father accepted it. Shooting me a glance, he started to eat.
"Man, Aunty you know how it be. Any food left?"
"Better go look in the kitchen." She focused on Kennedy. "And who's this lovely young lady?"
"This Kennedy," Andre said, kissing her on the cheek making her flush. "Ken, can you go make my plate?"
"Okay," she said softly. She was nothing like the loud ass chicks Dre usually brought to family functions.
Once she disappeared in the kitchen, Andre finally noticed me. "Tae? Why yo ass over there like we got diseases?"
He thought he was so damn funny. I hopped up from the couch and punched his arm. That's how we greeted each other. "Nigga shut up," I smirked. "Yo ass probably do."
"My nigga Trey!" Trey and Andre dapped up.
"Hey Andre," Ciara said.
"Girl, shut up. Don't be heying him. He got a whole girlfriend," Trey told her. It was no secret that Ciara and Andre used to mess around.
Andre nodded at her. I looked around. My aunt and father were gone, so they probably were in the kitchen.
"Yo girl Kennedy bad, bruh," Trey's thirsty ass had to say.
"Nigga keep yo eyes to yourself! But nah, she different not like these hoes I used to fuck with."
I glanced at Ciara but she ain't even seem offended.
"But whats good? How Tae do when pops came in?" He directed the question at Trey.
"Nah he was cool. They was mugging for a second but they shook hands and shit." Trey gave me my props.
"That's all we asking. Just don't want no mo hatred it's enough of that out in the world."
I stayed silent. Let them think me and my dad was cool just off a handshake.
Just then Kennedy came out of the kitchen with a plate stacked with food and a cup. "Here you go, bae."
"Thanks, baby. Y'all this Kennedy. Kennedy, this my brother Devonte, his boy Trey and Trey's sister Ciara."
She gave us a shy smile. I was just hoping Ciara ain't start no drama. She was typically above the bullshit but when it came to Andre, sometimes she acted the fool. Two Thanksgivings ago, her and Andre's girl fought right where we were standing now.
I hoped nothing happened because Kennedy seemed like a nice girl. Ciara and Trey's family may have had a lil money, but Ciara fought like she was from the hood. I ain't wanna see Kennedy stomped out.
But, shit, Ciara stayed calm and ain't throw any slick remarks as we talked. Finally Ciara excused herself to go and I could breathe again. Me and Andre and Trey was laughing like old times, before life got complicated. Before I knew it, my plate was empty, and most people had left out.
It was just me, Trey, Andre, Kennedy left. And then my aunt, uncle and father but they were still in the kitchen.
Feeling thirsty, I went in the kitchen. My Aunt and Uncle weren't even in there. It was just my dad. He was on his phone. I squinted at him. This nigga just got outta jail and he had the iPhone X. I ain't even wanna know how.
"So you not gon speak?" Without looking up from the phone, my dad spoke to me.
"Ain't shit to say." I popped open the cooler, digging through the ice.
"I guess that's why you never communicated wit me then, wasn't shit to say," he mocked me.
"Man. I was a kid." I wanted to mention the letters, but I didn't want to find out why he did me like that. I didn't want to feel the same hurt I felt at eight when he ain't write back. "I ain't wanna see you locked up."
"Dre came tho. Yo momma came. Every time, I'd ask her where you a was. And she said you didn't wanna see me." He put the phone down, and stood up. I looked up at him. I stood up too. He folded his arms and looked at me with an expressionless face.
"Was I that bad of a dad?"
I took a breath. "Nigga, I was eight years old. I was scared of you."
He snorted. "Fo what? I never hit you, never touched you, not even to whip you when you needed it. That's some irrational fear you had boy."
It was true. But he had a nasty temper, and that alone had me scared. I couldn't look him in the eyes. "When you got locked up, in a way, I was relieved. No more of your yelling and shit, and calling me stupid, or slow, or throwing shit, or making momma cry. You hear me? I was glad. But shit that ain't last long."
"Your ma," he dragged a hand over his face, and it was almost like looking in the mirror, " I know I put her through too much. Even me going to jail, that was too much, leaving her to raise y'all...I blame myself a lot for what happened to her. And your sister." He paused and a look of extreme heartbreak flashed on his face. "What happened to your sister was nobody's fault but mines."
He shook his head as if to clear it. "But you-nigga you was too damn sensitive! You was supposed to be able to take whatever I said to you but you wanted to be a big ass baby. You was supposed to grow up. I guess you did but now you just mad at the world. But mostly me." He reached for a beer. "That's some fucked up shit, to be glad I was locked up."
"I know. And I ain't stay glad. I needed to talk to you so I sent some letters." Now I steeled myself and stared at him. "You never wrote back. And that killed anything I ever felt for you that was good."
"Letters?" He mused.
My heart jumped. "Starting the first year you went away to when...momma died."
" I never got no letters, Tae."
"Lie again," I snapped.
In an instant, he had me by the shoulders, pinned up on the wall. "Watch yo mothafuckin mouth, nigga." He ain't shout. In fact his voice was quiet, which was worse.
Breathing hard, he shoved me again, then released me. "I ain't get no fucking letters from you. So stop saying that shit."
Adjusting my shirt, I backed up. The nigga was strong as fuck, but I would take him if I had to.
"Why you was a shitty father?" I changed the subject.
"I'm a shitty everything," he said bitterly. "Even a shitty drug dealer, that's why I got locked up."
I ain't say nothing.
"Devonte. You ain't had the easiest life, and most niggas who have your background ain't gonna do half as much as you doing in your life. You in college. Nobody in my family ever went to college. Your music shit...you gonna be somebody nigga. And I know it's not because of me, it's because of you. You got that hustler ambition even if you ain't use it to sell drugs, you used it for something better. I was immature when you were a child. Had traumatic shit happen to me and ain't know how to cope. Still don't, but I know how not to, shit." He looked me dead in the eyes.
"I know. I know I ain't give you what you deserved in a dad. I'm the only father you got tho, so you gon hold this grudge eleven more years or what?"
I studied him. He obviously wasn't gonna apologize, but that's not what I wanted. I wanted him to care. And I could see that just maybe he did, and he was struggling how to show it.
So I stuck my hand out again. This time, when I said, "Welcome back," I meant it.