Onika Maraj Clark
I wipe tears as I stare into his eyes. I love him but god am I so fucking angry at him right now.
Coming in late at night. Really?
We have two kids and he has the audacity to be coming in late.
Sometimes, as a matter of fact most times, I feel as though I am the only one holding this family together...
"Aye baby, baby..." he tries to grab my face and kiss me but I pull away. "Onika, baby."
"Nah."
The only reason I'm not erupting in yelling and screaming is because the kids are sleeping and I don't need them awake at this hour on a school night.
He's wearing some oversized clothing. Jorts that reach halfway down his calf, a baggy ass Knix jersey, some chains, some J's, he snells of smoke and liquor, and I can see a layer of sweat that leaves his face looking slightly glossy in some areas.
Oh, I'm fuming.
"baby, look..."
"NIGGA, AIN'T NO FUCKING "LOOK"!!!"I whisper loudly.
We're both in the kitchen while the children sleep upstairs.
Maurice wants to be a rapper.
He goes to these open mic nights on days he doesn't have work. He works at a local restaurant as a cook and he takes other odd jobs when he has the time to spare. So basically Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, and sometimes Thursday nights he isn't there to help with dinner or to give the kids their nightly before bed pep talk about how they're strong and can do any and everything they set their mind to. It's very upsetting.
Nothing wrong with wanting to be a rapper, however, there is everything wrong with missing out on being with your children. I don't care much about him and I, it's more of me being concerned about his relationship with the kids. They love him so much and are upset often when they see him getting ready to go. Hakeem, especially.
Hakeem tried to sneak int he car and camp out in the backseat. If it weren't for his walker being poorly hidden, Maurice would've driven him to a nightclub unknowingly.
Maurice didn't have a good relationship with his father so I want him to do better for our children's sake.
The smell of liquor on him makes me the angriest.
The tears keep pooling down my face.
"Really?"
"baby, look."
He puts his hands on my shoulders and I let him, my face dipping down, trying to hide my look of displeasure on my face.
With one hand, he lifts me head up. A finger under my chin. His facial expression soft. Both of the kids have his eyes. The softest ever with these curly lashes. nibble the inside of my cheek, looking up at him through my soaked lashes.
"I'm sorry baby. But I promised you. Promised all of you that I would make it to put us in a mansion and the kids in a private school. By the time the third come, he or she gone be able to have a nanny."
I dip my head back down. We've both been talking about a third baby for a while, but financially, we should not.
I think I forgot to mention where most of our paycheck goes towards.
If it's not towards Hakeem's medical expenses, it's to buy some studio hours. I write for him so he can save money. As a matter of fact, a majority of his lyrics are written by me. I don't mind as long as he's not spending additional money that the kids could use in the future.
