by Dave Welch
I stared back at him with a puzzled look.
“When? I don’t know what you mean.”
“What’d you do to get your wife promoted?” He corrected.
“Oh, I helped her with a major drug bust. You ever heard of the Primosa gang?” I asked as Bookie continued to hum away, eating her ice cream.
“Oh yeah! You mean that drug bust?” The officer confirmed as he dropped his guard.
“Yeah! That was us,” I responded.
“Oh, man! That drug bust went down in history. So that was Canieya Lawson?” The officer quizzed.
“Yep, that's my baby.”
“You guys make an awesome couple.”
“Uhhh. Yeah!” I inserted.
“I’m sorry, but your wife was such a splendid woman. I must congratulate the two of you on an epic feat,” the officer confessed.
Ding! Ding!
We turned our heads as the other officer entered the parlor.
“Hey, Hey! Jeff. You remember that Primosa Gang?” exploded the officer with joy.
“Oh yeah, that Lawson beef,” replied Jeff.
The other officer pointed at me. “This the guy. This her husband!” He noted.
“I’m sorry for troubling you, Mr. Lawson,” Jeff said as he walked over, handing me my ID.
“It’s fine, sir. You’re only doing your job. You guys get what you needed?” I asked.
“Nope. We’re looking for a guy, last name Crane. First name Arlo. He’s wanted in several states for numerous reasons.”
Jeff paused for a minute as his smile slowly diminished. “Do you have any tattoos, Mr. Derrick?”
“Yes, sir. I have one.”
“Would you mind?”
I put my forearm on the table, and I rolled my sleeve up.
The officer stared at the tattoo on my wrist. Squinting in his viewing, he leaned in closer for clarity.
“It’s my name,” hinted Bookie. “I wanted to get my Daddy’s name on me, but he said I was too young.”
“You have any more tattoos, Mr. Derrick?” asked Jeff.
“No sir. I don’t.”
“Would you mind exposing your left shoulder?” Jeff ordered.
I kept calm, conserving my nerves.
I stood up slowly, lifting my sleeve up to reveal my shoulder. The officer looked onto my speckled bare skin. He then stood upright and put his hands in his pockets.
I rolled my sleeve down and sat back in my chair.
“Your ice cream melting, Daddy,” said Bookie.
“I know, baby. Daddy’s waiting on the kind officers to finish,” I answered as I looked up to the officers.
They looked at each other in disapproval.
“We apologize for the inconvenience Mr. Lawson,” Jeff admitted as he dropped his head.
“It’s cool.”
“How’s Canieya?” asked the other officer.
“She’s doing great. She visits every other month,” I lied.
“Ain't she coming next month, Daddy?” Bookie asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.
“I never knew she got another promotion. What would that make her now, 7012?” Jeff quizzed.
“Yes, sir... Master Lieutenant.” I added.
Just then, the officer’s intercom sounded with jargon.
“Jeff, we need to be getting back,” the officer said.
“Oh yeah. Hey! You two watch out for that brain freeze!” Jeff hollered with a smile.
“Will do!” I shouted as the officers headed out the door.
A great weight lifted from my shoulders as the officers piled into their patrol car.
Bookie, the muse of my affection, had saved the day yet again. But I kept thinking they were coming back to get me. I was so nervous that I hadn’t touched a bit of my ice cream. In fact, it was a liquid now, swimming with sugary toppings.
I lost my appetite.
“Daddy, you can drink that,” Bookie giggled.
“It’s okay, Daddy. They gone now. That was a close one, huh?” She joked as she licked her spoon.
I stared off into space, questioning my own course of suspicion as Bookie hummed away with joy.
“I’ll take that…” she whispered, sliding my melted ice cream away.
It was about five o’clock in the morning when I rolled over in my bed.
Bookie burst into my room with so much energy.
“Daddy, Daddy! Can we have cereal for breakfast!” she hollered.
“Great Scott Bookie! It’s… What time is it?” I wandered.
“I don’t know,” she said while settling down next to me.
I rolled over again towards the opposite direction to notice the alarm clock.
“Bookie, it’s five o’clock in the morning,” I uttered.
“That’s a good time Daddy,” she said. “Cartoons come on in about another hour. It’s go take you 45 minutes to get up. So, if I get you up now, we’ll have 15 minutes to get some cereal and sit down for this morning’s lineup.”
At this moment, I had sat straight up in the bed, shocked at such a timed stratagem. Bookie was not your average five-year-old. I knew I was training her to be smarter and wiser than the norm, but she excelled fast. She was monstrously brainy.
“You're right,” I mumbled. She jumped on the bed and wrapped her arms around my neck.
“C’mon Daddy!” She pleaded.
I sighed from the lag of morning rest.
“Okay, okay… Give me a minute,” I insisted.
“Forty-five minutes Daddy,” informed the smart child as she smiled away.
She freed her grip and bounced about the bed a few times before leaping to the floor.
“I’m gonna brush my teeth, Daddy!” she hollered while running out of the room.
I just watched with amazement.
I was on the clock. And just like she said, within the next forty-five minutes, I was up.
I proceeded from the confines of my bedroom only to come face to face with Bookie. She was sitting Indian style in the hallway, holding her head in her hands, and bundled up in her favorite blanket.
I stopped and shook my head as she gleamed with joy.
“You ready, Daddy?” she asked.
I nodded in agreement.
This little girl had done the impossible. She had cured me of my criminal nature. I had forgiven all of my past adversaries. In a sense, karma had looked over me. Every time I looked into her big brown eyes, I grasped a piece of redemption.
I really wanted Canieya to be a part of this. However, I hadn’t talked to the heroine in over two years. I supposed she had her numbers changed. I’d like to say that I had no way of communicating with her. That was a lie.
I couldn’t tell Bookie that I was being stubborn and prideful. I’d lose credibility. Funny as it may seem, Bookie probably already knew I didn't want to send those pictures from her award ceremony. Damn Crane.
I entered the kitchen with Bookie following close by. She was like a little cat running in between my legs. I retrieved her favorite cereal from the cupboard. I grabbed the milk from the fridge, a clean bowl, and a small spoon from the dishwasher. I washed the bowl and the spoon over again with clean running water. I shook them dry briefly; then I prepared her cereal. The whole while this was happening, Bookies was on her toes, watching every move I made.
It was three minutes to six when I began pouring the milk over her cereal. I couldn’t tell if it was me or her that timed this so well, and I no longer cared. I was simply happy that she was happy.
I handed her the bowl of cereal and she looked up to me with those sparkling eyes.
“Thank you, Daddy!” she shouted.
She walked to the living room and sat her bowl on the table in front of her. She picked up the remote and turned on the television.
“I love you, Daddy!” she yelled as she turned to her favorite station.
I looked up to her direction only to see her still affixed to the television. She hadn’t looked away at all. I started to tear up
as the morning cartoon lineup began.
“I love you to honey,” I replied.
I then looked back to my old refrigerator. I found myself staring at it again as my thoughts took me away.
For a second there, I forgot about all of the crimes that I committed. All I could think about was my dispersed idea of a family. I wasn’t sure if Canieya wanted to communicate or not.
Was she still angry with me? Or was this all a safety precaution?
“Daddy! You go watch cartoons with me?” Bookie shouted, snapping me out of my daze.
I turned to see her standing up on the couch, still chewing, with milk running down the side of her mouth.
“Aaaahhh… Why not,” I answered.
I got up from the kitchen table and walked over to the living room.
She plopped down in the seat and wrapped up in her blanket.
“Where yo’ cereal at Daddy?” she asked as she carefully grabbed her bowl up from the table in front of her.
“Oh, Ima just pick out of yours,” I jokingly inserted.
“Nu uh Daddy! These my cereals! Okay, Daddy. You can have one cereals.” She proclaimed while holding up one kernel of cereal.
“One cereal? What’s that go do?” I chuckled out loud as I sat next to her.
It was nine o’clock in the morning. And I had somehow gravitated back into the kitchen. I sat in my seat, staring at the refrigerator again.
There was nothing special about the refrigerator. Well, my neighbor Tommy G gave it to me a long time ago. But it was my thoughts. My thoughts had consumed me greatly.
I had yet to understand why the police hadn’t come for me.
I mean, I knew Lawson created new lives, new identities for us. But how long? How long would this web of lies last? How long would this life prevail in the wake of justice?
I could just feel the DEA kicking in my door.
There were times when I would turn around in my chair, thinking they had arrived. And this little, two-bedroom home of mine would be surrounded in minutes. Well, I guess I could turn myself in to prevent Bookie from facing any mental or physical damage.
Just then, Bookie burst into the kitchen full of energy.
“Daddy!” she hollered.
I closed my eyes to gathered myself.
“Yes baby?” I replied.
She slowed down. It was almost as if she could see the problems, sitting plainly on my face.
She walked over to the table and pulled out her chair at the opposite end. She grunted as she crawled into the chair while holding onto her blanket.
I watched inertly as she scuffled to sit in the chair. She soon settled and stared at me with a smile that slowly changed. She scrambled about in the chair as I glared at the table, avoiding eye contact. A fear developed within me. But she sat stimulated by the opportunities that awaited.
“Mommy’s not coming is she, Daddy?”
I paused, for her clever acts had once again surpassed my every notion of knowledge. I hesitated for a minute before answering.
“No, Bookie. She’s not coming.”
“Do you know why Daddy? Is she mad at you?” she wondered while kicking her legs about.
“Baby, Daddy don’t know. Honestly, she’s probably never coming back,” I softly mumbled.
We both sat back in our seats, and at the same time.
A complete silence entered the room. And for a minute, I drifted off in deep thought. I was looking to solve this riddle on my own, and without any evidence or answers. Putting such a puzzle together offered an even greater host of inquiries. This bottomless rabbit hole, uncanny in depth, provided no remedy. The events of my past had become too vast to repair. Looking back was useless. But the future was important.
“Daddy, let’s go outside and play!” Bookie insisted.
Now that’s an idea. Hopefully this would ensnare my conscious in its wild journey.
“Sounds good Bookie! Let’s do it!” I shouted.
“Yay! I’ll go get my ball!” she shouted while climbing down out of her chair.
She dashed off to her room. I waited patiently, staring at the refrigerator again. Now I wasn’t sure if I had developed some sort of fascination with the fridge. I mean, it wasn’t really all that attractive. It was old, and it had a few rust stains on it, but it worked. I think the white color and the various child drawings gave me rest, a calming spirit that allowed my mind to wander.
Solutions to my perilous times were all I craved. Going back to that infectious way of living was senile.
And I felt bad about living off the money that Canieya would send from time to time. That’s crazy too… Bookie was five years old and already had more money than me.
I need a job, damn it! But they ask too many questions.
A friend of mine had some yard work for me, bringing about some form of relief.
Then, the thoughts of Canieya kept bugging me. Our family, this odd unity, had backed me into a corner. But I’m no loser. And I vowed to never, ever go back to my criminal mindset. Plus, Bookie deserved a better way of living.
“I found it Daddy!” she yelled from the rear of the house, once again, snapping me back to reality.
“I went ahead and changed clothes too,” she added.
Bookie hurried over to the table as I sat with a huge smile on my face. I looked down to my side as she approached.
I love when she smiles. She gleams with so much joy.
“You ready Daddy?”
She always asks that.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Let me grab my shoes.”
I gained my strength and slowly arose from my chair. Then, I walked over to the door to get my shoes.
“Now, we go have to play in the front cause we don’t have no backyard.” I informed.
“I know Daddy. And we gotta stay out the street too.”
“Yes. How’d you know I was gonna say that?” I blurted with sarcasm.
“You always do Daddy. Let’s play kickball!” She screamed. “Then we, uhhh…Can we, I meant... Can we get some ice cream later?”
I smiled as I opened the front door. “Yes Bookie. But how we go play kickball with just two people?” I pondered.
“You can roll the ball to me, and I’ll kick it,” she briefly replied. “So, then you gotta catch it and tag me out, Daddy!”
“Alright, but I’m not taking it easy on you,” I inserted.
She giggled and jumped with energy as she held onto her beloved red ball.
I needed this.
It was almost ten o’clock now. The day was shaping beautifully.
We ganged up outside in the front yard. There wasn't much space. Sometimes we would venture over into the neighbor’s yard. But they were cool people.
Bookie was making bases for our little game of kickball. She grabbed a stick for first base. Then, she found a larger stick for second base, a small old and damaged Styrofoam cup for third base, and her little plastic red chair for home base.
“Alright Bookie. Now how we go do this?” I asked. And that’s only because she had all the answers.
“I don’t know Daddy. Oh wait!” She hollered. “Let’s say I make it to first base, right?”
“Uh—huh…”
“Then we put a ghost man on first base,” she explained.
“Ghost man? Naw…I don’t like the sound of that,” I giggled.
“DAdddyyyyy??”
“Okay. Okay… I was just kidding. Ghost man on first. Gotcha!”
“Then I have to kick again,” she added.
“And all I have to do is step on second base to tag out your ghost man.”
“No Daddy that won’t be fair. I have to run from home straight to second base to put a ghost man there,” she explained.
“Oh…” I nodded. “We do that for all the bases?”
“Yep! Now let’s play!” She screamed while jumping around.
I decided that this approach to the game of kickball made absolutely no sense. Be that as it may, this conclusion
didn’t help nor hinder her excitement. The aim here was just to have fun, simply stated.
She stood in front of her little red chair as I backed to the edge of our neighbor’s yard.
“Ok, Bookie! It’s coming fast!” I shouted while preparing my pitch.
She jumped and shook her hands hysterically. She breathed hard, blowing air in and out of her mouth as if she was getting ready to sprint.
“Let’s go…” she mumbled.
I was shocked at her competitive nature. I wanted to see what she had.
I pitched the ball.
She sprinted from the chair, kicking as hard as she could.
“Whoa!” I yelled.
The ball bounced off the front porch railing and back off towards the street. I ran to retrieve the ball and when I turned around, she was standing on first base.
“Ghost man on first!” She hollered.
“I would be believing so…” I mumbled as she skipped back to her little red chair.
She giggled as I walked back to my alleged pitching mound. I was almost outdone. Her getting to second base wasn’t happening.
“Don’t take it easy on me Daddy,” she ordered.
Who the hell does she think I am?
“Oh no! Not today,” I replied.
I gathered myself as she jumped up and down shaking her hands lively in fervent motions. This girl was destined to win. And from the very first play of the game our aggressive tendencies bubbled, like a shook can of opened soda. Bookie took after me. And to a great extent.
For a minute there, I thought this was just kickball, but Nnaaaaaa… Fuck that.
It’s game time.
I launched the ball at her, probably twice as hard as I did the first time. She darted from her plastic chair, sprinting like an athlete coming off the blocks.
She kicked the ball clean into the sky.
I looked up, blinded by the sun as the gusty winds captured the ball.
The airy current sent the ball over my head, into the neighbor’s yard, and back along the side of the house.
“Shit!” I shouted, dashing off to fetch the ball.
“Ooohww…Daddy…You said a bad word!” Bookie shouted from afar. “That’s a free point.”
I didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, the play was still good. Plus, I didn’t know if she was still running the bases.
Who the hell said she could go first anyway?