Before the sleep

Chapter sixteen

Daddy

I was never a violent person. I never prayed to God to strike his wrath on a particular person before this man walked in my life once more. I was fine with him gone, never coming back. I didn't care if he was swimming in money, I was happy with him staying where the hell he was. I was hurt that he left in the first place but I got over it. I didn't want him back. I didn't want him here especially in a time like, a time in which our family was at its weakest.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I barked at my father.

The man had the nerves to get mad at my attitude. His disgusting smile disappeared and gave place to a deep frown and disapproving look.

"Se konsa ou pale a papa w' devan menaj ou?" He demanded like he still had the rights to yell at me.

"What did he say?" Irene whispered in my ear. "Is he talking about me?"

I had nearly forgotten about her being in the room. Her sweet breath tickled my ears, melting back my rage into profound love for the woman. I blinked back the happy feeling in order to hold on to the anger and pain I can use to hit this man. A few seconds ago, her appearance had filled every dark corners in my soul with pure happiness but the person who followed her crushed it and made fury took over.

I brushed her aside mindlessly. I saw a slight ping of hurt cross her lovely features but I needed her to get away from me right now. I didn't want her to know men like my father. She had enough bad people in her life without me adding mine.

"Why are you here?" I snarled at him.

"I am here to see my son," he uttered. His Haitian accent was so thick that his words were almost incomprehensible.

The man had left his homeland for about twenty two years now and was still incapable to form two consecutive sentences in English. The lazy bump was always more interested in pleasure than anything else. My mother, who came here the same year as him had, attempted to teach him but he preferred chasing skirts.

Why couldn't he suffocate in one?

"He doesn't need you. None of us need you here."

"Kote Esther?" His eyes inspected the room carefully in search of my mother.

"Get out," I yelled under my breath.

I stood mere centimeters away from him with a few inches taller than him. I looked down on him, huffing out my rage. Fire took over my face, my heart busted around with the uncontrollable feeling to protect my family, and my muscles were puffing out to beat this excuse of a man who was my father.

We were having a stand-off in the middle of the room like two cowboys waiting to see which one will draw his gun the quickest and made the fatal shot. The only difference was that the first glance at my father had already killed me.

"Kote m' pran la?" He shook his head as if he was witnessing the greatest disappointment in his life. "Timoun pa respekte paran yo anko?"

"I respect those who respect themselves first," I spat. "You never respected neither yourself nor my mother so you have five seconds to get out of my face or I'm calling the police."

"Joseph," Irene suddenly came in-between us. "Aren't you kind of overreacting? I'm not going to pretend to know what's happening here nor what happened before but he's here now. Isn't all that matters? He's asking for forgiveness."

"Pretty and smart," my father grinned all his teeth at her.

I pulled Irene back towards the back of the room and left her there with a death stare.