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It was a sunny Monday afternoon. These previous few weeks had brought nothing but rainy days and cloudy skies. On this particular Monday the sun seemed to creep out like a thief in the night.
I sat on the bottom steps of my grandmothers porch. I had been sitting here for half and hour, awaiting my estranged fathers arrival. My mother, Tina had recently passed. It was cancer. Breast cancer. She'd had it for years but never informed me. There were a lot of things she kept from me. My father being one of many.
The day she passed was when my grandmother informed me about my father. She didn't know much, but she knew of him and she knew how to get in contact with him. I was shocked and angered at the fact that my mother never told me about him. Even more so at the fact that my father never not once tried to get in contact with me.
I had asked for years about my father but she always told me that she never knew him. That the relationship they had was a quick and unpleasant one. One she never wanted to discuss with me.
I had told my grandmother that I wanted nothing to do with him. I didn't want to live with a man that didn't care for me. He never came looking for me, so he never cared and didn't want me in his life. Neither did I.
My grandmother however insisted that I stayed with him. She couldn't take care of me. She was wheelchair bound and needed professional care. She said that as soon as I'd left, she'd give up the house and would then be taken to a home.
The horn of a car shook me out of the little trance I was in. I hopped up in shock and saw the passenger side door of a red truck open. I stood frozen. I watched as he slowly got out of the truck and as he stood against it. He's hands in his jean pockets as he eyed me. I couldn't quite read the expression on his face, but I was one hundred percent sure that he could read mine like a book. As much as I wanted to hate him, my heart cried tears of joy.
Never in my entire life had I ever thought that I'd ever meet my father. Hell I never knew that I had a dad. And there he stood. Tall and rugged. A handsomely wrinkled face accompanied with greenish brown eyes and cocoa brown hair. My mom had good taste.
"Beyoncé!"
Blinking, a tad embarrassed that I had been staring at him for so long, I turned and hurried into the house to grab my luggage. I stood in front of the wooden staircase and eyed the top right door that lead to my grandmothers bedroom. As much I loved that women, I was hurt and angry at the fact that I wasn't able to stay with her.
I knew that she couldn't care for me, but I didn't need taking care of. I was grown. She didn't need those people at that old age home taking care of her. She had me and we had each other. I could take care of her better than they could. I knew her. They didn't.
Scoffing, I blinked the brimming tears away and grabbed my backpack and the handle of my suitcase. I walked back out and slammed the door behind me, rushing towards the white picket fence.
