I Deserve Love

Dominique Leroux

"I HATE YOU!" Iniko spat at me, her petite, dark skinned frame shaking from anger. "Baby, I'm sorry!" I yelled back her with less furosity and more pain. "You said you weren't going to get back into this! You said you'd stay away from the drugs! You are supposed to take care of me and be my father!" She screamed at me. I looked down and saw that my black skinned hands were clenched into fists and shaking. "It was one Goddamn deal to get you money for college next year!" I hollered at her. "Dom! I can get scholarships! Hell! I have straight A's! I can go to any college I want! You don't have to pay for nothing!" She yelled, tears making her light chocolate skin glisten. "We live in Alabama! No one looks here for college students! No one with look in our small southern town for an amazing child like you! Baby, I am trying to set you up to have a good life! I didn't do any of the damn drugs I just sold them!" "Yeah and what if you got caught? Who would pay the bills for the house! Who would pay for the food in the fridge! Not you! Cause your ass would have been stuck in prison! I would've been stuck in some foster home with some dumbass white folks!" Her voice was getting hoarse from screaming so much. "Stop fucking yelling at ME!" My voice thundered around the room. I stomped out of the living room and into my bedroom. I took hold of the door and slammed it behind me. I turned around and ripped it back open, "If living with me is soooooo bad, then go live with your mother!" I slammed the door closed again and walked over to my dresser, I placed my hands on it and started to take deep breaths as sweat dripped from my dark face and arms. I heard rustling from her room but didn't pay any mind. I just focused on calming down then I heard her stomping. It sounded like she was going towards the door. I ran and flew the door open. She had a backpack, duffel, and her purse with her. "Where are you going?" I thundered as I walked toward her. "To go live with mom. I'll be back with a court order for the rest of my things in a couple if weeks. Pourriture en enfer, père*," and with that, my daughter walked out of the door. When the door slammed shut our trailer shook. I stood there, stunned, her car revving up and zooming out of the driveway. "Merde*!" I screamed as I drove my fist through a wall. I stood there, my fist bleeding, breathing deeply as tears ran down my face to join the sweat. I threw myself into the bathroom and ripped the first-aid kit out of the cabinets under the sink. I threw open the kit and furiously started to clean and bandage my hand. My anger started to slowly go away as I worked on my hand. When I was done I closed the kit and put it back under the sink. I turned the knobs and let the water fall over my blood covered good hand. As the blood was rinsed down the sink, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Looking at myself like this made me think of when I had lived in France with my Papa and Mama. I had been a real been a real bad troublemaker back then. I was constantly getting into fights. I would almost always come home with some kind of injury. Why can't I ever do anything right?
*Burn in Hell, father
*Fuck