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🇭 🇮 🇳 🇸 🇱 🇪 🇾
PRESENT DAY
I am currently deciding what to make quickly and easily while putting the finishing touches on dinner. I prepared two distinct spaghetti dishes.
I have one for Christy, Mya, and myself. In addition to homemade meatballs and sweet Italian sausage, this spaghetti also includes onions, red, green, and yellow bell peppers, four types of cheese, mushrooms, and fully cooked ground beef that is simmering in my sauce with a generous amount of seasoning and sugar.
My fiancé, Darren, and Santi will share the second spaghetti dish.
Instead of mushrooms, they both liked their spaghetti to be topped with meatballs, shrimp, Italian sausages, onions, bell peppers, and four different types of cheese. The sauce and ground beef were also spiced with a little sugar.
In addition, I made a Caesar salad with black olives and garlic bread sticks on the side. I made a seven-up pineapple pound cake for dessert.
I used pineapple slices and cherries as decoration.
Santi entered the kitchen with a distraught two-year-old Mya and a guilty-looking Christy trailed behind them both, her feet dragging and her face filled with guilt.
"Ma, please take your child before I strangle her!" Aurora exclaimed passionately.
"What does the word strangle mean, Mommy?" Christy inquired, standing with her head cocked to the side and looking up to the ceiling, as if the answers would magically appear!
"It means I am going to wrap my hands around your beautiful little throat and cho--!" Santi begins to speak but is interrupted by me as I slap her upside the head!
"Ow!" Santi cried as her head jostled forward from the smack she had received, causing her to rub her head.
"Mama!" Shouts May as she grabs for me.
"Don't you dare speak like that about, or to, your sister," I stated, giving her a death glare as I reached for Mya, just as she held out her chubby baby arms for me. I took her and kissed her nose, then settled her comfortably on my hip.
"Why are you so upset to the point of wanting to strangle your baby sister?" I asked, then waited, foot-tapping, for her reply.
"I want to strangle her because she constantly goes in my bookbag without my permission and colors all over my homework!"
My fiancé Darren, who had just entered this melee, seeing the look on our faces, scoops his daughter Mya up into his muscular arms and whispers something in Christy's ear.
Christy looks up at him with her doe-like eyes, then nods her head in an up-and-down motion, letting Darren know that she understands. He smiles at her, then places a kiss on her forehead as he gently puts Christy down.
Christy swiftly runs over to Santi and latches onto her leg as she looks up at her. Her lower lip starts to quiver and shake.
While wearing the cutest little puppy dog face she could muster, her dark eyes began to gloss over, looking as if she was going to cry.
"I'm sorry, Santi. I didn't mean to mess up your homework; I just wanted to color!" Cried, Christy. My heart gave a little twist. I hated seeing her upset. We all did.
Santi hated it when Christy made the puppy dog face, quivering lip, complete with doe-like eyes, face at her.
She could never stay mad at her sisters when they do that.
Santi sucked her teeth, picked Christy up, and carried her out of the kitchen into the living room, where her book bag was.
She then pulled out a brand-new coloring book, along with a box of unopened Crayola crayons. She handed them solemnly to the child, saying, "You see this book?" Christy nodded her head in an up-and-down fashion, which meant yes.
"This book is your very own coloring book, and these are your crayons. You can color anytime you like." Says Santi.
"Wait a minute, what's the catch to me getting those crayonds and that coloring book?" Asked Christy, adorably mispronouncing crayons, as she raised her left eyebrow and hands on her little hips, then raised one hand and then pointed at both the crayons and coloring book to emphasize what she was saying.
Christy may be a little bit rowdy and does things impulsively, but she knows for a fact that Santi was really upset with her just a minute ago, all because she colored over her sister's homework. Hence, she sort of kind of feels like there's a catch to her receiving the crayons.
"I didn't do it on purpose; I just wanted to be a big girl too and help my sissy pudding with her homework. I am sorry."
Santi laughed at Christy's statement; for her to be five, the girl is smarter than she looks. "There's no catch. All I ask is that you stay out of my school bag from here on out, ok?" Asked Santi. "Really? That's it?" Asked Christy with her left eyebrow raised.
"Yes, that's it." Chuckled Santi, as Christy's skeptical expression immediately turned into a smirk as she said, "In that case, you got yourself a deal, Santi."
Christy bounced up and down, filled with happiness as she wrapped her arms around Santi's waist, then said. "Ouu, Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!!!
You're the best big sister in the whole wide world, Santi. Thank you. I love you so much. Can I please show mommy and Darren the crayonds, and coloring book you got me?"
"Sure, ladybug, go right ahead," Santi replied with a genuine smile. She loved to see her sisters happy almost as much as she enjoyed making them happy.
Christy let go of Santi and ran right back into the kitchen, where she found us, bubbling over with excitement as we listened to Christy babble on and on about the coloring book and crayons that her best big sister ever gave her, which brought a smile to Santi's face, who then glanced over at Darren, who held Mya.
The baby was fast asleep in his arms.
A pang of jealousy ran through her as she watched Darren and Mya share something that she wished she could have, and that was her father's love.
She knows Darren is not her father, and she knows that Christy's father is not her father either, which often makes her a little bit envious of both her sisters. They've both met their father and know who their father is.
They have the chance to experience their father's love at some point in their life.
She often wondered what happened to her father. Where could he be?
Does he even know she exists? Why doesn't he love her?
Those were the questions that ran through her mind almost every second of the day.
Santi gets pulled from her thoughts by me saying, "Christy told us about the coloring book and crayons you got her. That was nice of you, sweetie."
"Well, you know how she always says she wants to color?" Santi questioned. "Mhm, I replied.
"Well, I figured I could continue to turn in my very colorful homework, courtesy of my little sister, or give her her very own book to color in! I chose the latter."
Replied Santi as she watched Christy try to teach the baby (who had woken from her catnap) how to color, but Mya wasn't interested in coloring.
It looks like Mya was more interested in finding out how the red crayon tastes.
"Ah ah ah, no, Mya. Crayonds don't belong in your mouth, mommas. They are for you to color." Replied Christy as she took the crayon out of Mya's mouth and showed her how to scribble. Darren gave me a mind-blowing kiss and went and kissed all his little girls on their foreheads. "Be my sweet little angel and help your momma with your little sisters while I'm out handling business, and when I get back, I will give you extra money on your allowance." Darren said as Santi just smiled and replied, "OK."
Darren scruffed up her hair, which made Santi giggle, as she swatted his hands off her hair then replied, "Quit it, Darren, you're messing up my hair."
Darren laughed as he left the house. Santi soon turned her attention back to Christy and Mya.
"See." Replied Christy, as Mya watched her contently, then began to mimic what Christy did. She began to giggle as she saw the colors come alive on the page.
"Good girl, Mya," Replied Christy as both she and Mya colored to their heart's content at the dinner table, wearing the brightest smiles she had ever seen on their face.
"OK, girls. You all go wash up and get ready for dinner," I shouted.
After everyone was done washing their face and hands, Santi placed Mya in her high chair securely, then went on to make a plate for Christy and herself. As I made a plate for Mya and myself, we sat as a unit at the table, me praising Christy for clearing away the coloring book and crayons without being told.
Everyone bowed their heads and closed their eyes to bless the food and quietly dug into their meal.
As I was feeding Mya, Santi hit me with the bombshell of a question that had been plaguing her mind for many years.
"Mom, can I ask you a question, and can you please give me an honest answer?"
"Don't I always give you honest answers?" I replied quizzically, looking at my eldest daughter with a raised brow.
"Yeah, you do, except when I ask you this question," replied Santi as she mumbled the last part of her statement.
I played it off like I did not hear the last part of Santi's statement.
"Go ahead and ask me what you gotta ask me," I told Santi, bracing myself for what I knew was coming.
"What happened to my father? Where is he? Does he even know about me? Why doesn't he love me?"
Santi quarried as she began to cry uncontrollably.
I have to admit. I was a bit stunned at first.
I didn't know what to say to her. I mean, how do I explain to my baby about her father?
It's not the first time she has asked me who her father was, and every time she asked, I would automatically change the subject, but I know I could only do that for so long.
I honestly don't know how telling her who her father is and why he is not in her life would affect her.
I dAs I was placing the garlic breadsticks on the table, I jumped because Darren had returned home, silently sneaking up on me, wrapped his right arm around my neck, which I happen to love, then pulled me in so gently, spun me around, and kissed me with And.
"Boy, don't be creeping up on me like that! I almost caught a case up in here!" I comically commented as I chuckled while slowly removing myself from his embrace.
"Damn, it's like that, Ma?"
"Yup, you almost got hurt, Lil buddy." I giggled as I patted him on his chest. "How were you going to hurt me, ma?"
Chuckled Darren as he tried to snatch a breadstick from the bowl, but I was quicker and smacked it clean out of his hands.
"Uh uhn. . . you know better than that! Don't be grabbing anything off my table without washing your damn hands!"
"What?" Replied Darren with his hands in the air, then said, "My hands are not dirty, babe!" "You were out there in the streets doing GOD knows what, from sunup till sundown.
I know you didn't wash those musty, crusty, dusty-ass hands of yours once. Therefore, they damn sure, not clean," I uttered with a chuckle.
"You might have me there. I'm going to wash my hands, then grab me a plate to go; I've got a meeting with Clips at the club tonight." Replied Darren as he walked toward the sink and began to wash his hands. Christy came running into the kitchen, giggling as she latched on to Darren's leg.
"Darren!" Christy shouted as Darren began to walk with Christy attached to his leg, which made Christy giggle a little loulotr as he lifted his leg once again and brought it back down repeatedly, walking through the kitchen as Christy shouted, "Wee!!!" They then broke out into a fit of giggles as Darren reached down, picked up Christy, and then began to tickle her.
"Hey, munchkin," replied Darren as he kissed Christy on her forehead.
Santi and Christy are not his biological children, but he loves them and treats them as if they were his. And would give them his last should they ever need it.
He's always telling me, "Daddy don't gotta be biological, baby,"
To be continued…
B
EAUTIFULLY DAMAGED is now completed and the ebook is currently available for purchase on Amazon for $8.99
BEAUTIFULLY DAMAGED: Where It All Began https://a.co/d/hrJm6IZ
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Copyright ©
October 18th, 2018|The_Hobbyist_Joy| Joy Caldwell |
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this story may be reproduced in any way, shape, or form by any means, electrical or mechanical, without written permission from the author.
This is purely a work of fiction; names, places, characters, or incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or peoples, either living or dead, is all purely coincidental.