Behind Closed Doors

Chapter Two

[2] Secretly Daddy's Little Girl

I was scared awake by the ringing of my phone. It was now Sunday and my only plans were to stay in bed all day. I looked at the screen of my phone seeing that it was my father. My mood instantly brightened, it's no secret that I love my dad. Well, it is to my family, but not to the two of us.

Ten years ago my mother overdosed on an unknown substance. My mother was beautiful, educated with a Masters degree, and was well off with a husband and three kids. But for her, that wasn't enough. She loved the hood and craved the fast life. Choosing to do drugs and sell her body in order to get them. My father didn't want to stay around for that and I couldn't blame him, but when she passed he just sort of left. He wasn't there for my brother, sister, and me like he should have been. He just popped in and out whenever it was convenient for him to do so. Caleb and Caden resent him for that, but I got over it. He had bettered himself and was beginning to act like the father that he should. I accepted him back into my life while my brother and sister continued to hate him. To this day they don't know that I have a deep relationship with our dad, they don't know that he sends me back home with money to help with our current living situation and expenses. I put the money in an envelope and stick it in the mailbox for my grandparents with a note attached saying what it's for.

I stretched and yawned loudly before finally answering the phone. "Hey dad." I let out another yawn.

"Just waking up?" I hummed a yes into the phone, laying on my back with my eyes still closed. "Cadence Marie, you do realize that it's almost one in the afternoon, correct?"

"It's also Sunday, daddy. I want to sleep." I whined.

"Sleep is for the rich, and we ain't there yet, baby girl."

"You're so corny!" I spoke while chuckling.

"That's what you think about your old man?" You could hear the fake hurt in his voice.

"No! You're pretty fly for an old guy." I sang, mocking the song. He chuckled into the phone, making me pull the phone away from my ear. My dad had a deep, powerful voice that boomed even when he was trying to be quiet. The kind of voice that you couldn't whisper in even if you were trying you're hardest.

"You really trying to hurt my feelings, ain't you?"

"I would never..." I gasped just to be extra.

"The lies, the lies!"

"Daddy, I love you. I wouldn't do that..."

"Okay, I believe you. But get up, get dressed. I'll be there in an hour. I love you, bye." And with that he hung up. I groaned, flipping myself over in the bed. I knew from the moment I heard my phone ringing that I wouldn't be sleeping the rest of the day away like I had planned. My dad always had something planned, but I was hoping he would let me be... Guess not.

Finally making my way out of the room I shared with my sister and into the small bathroom across the hall, I began my daily routine. When I was finished with everything, I dressed and did my hair. I wore a light coral colored scoop neck tshirt, ripped denim jeans, and a pair of sandals that matched the color of my shirt. Because the sandals had some gold pieces on them, I paired a gold chain necklace and small gold studs with the outfit. By the time I had finished glossing my lips I could hear the horn being beeped outside. I peeped out the window to confirm if it was actually my dad. I scribbled out a quick note and put it on the fridge with a magnet for the first person home to see, grabbed my cross-body purse then proceeded to leave the apartment.

As soon as I stepped outside, I regretted it. I looked around at the beat up projects. They were worn down, disease ridden, and filled with hoodlums, rats, and a slew of bad ass kids. Everything about this place screamed ghetto hot mess and I hated it. I hated that my grandparents once had enough money to live in the nice areas of Miami, but now they didn't because three kids came to burden them. I could blame my dad for leaving us and putting us in this situation, but it's not all his fault. It is on my mother too. She chose these streets, the same ones I hate, over her family and future. She didn't have to be out there doing drugs, prostituting, she was educated and beautiful. She could have easily gotten a good job and found her natural high in life, but no. She wanted the streets and in turn the streets wanted her. I sighed, trying to get those thoughts out of my head. I knew what I had to do to get my grandparents and myself out of this situation and I was well on my way to doing that.