I Ain't Scared of You (15 page)

When I found out she was involved with the cat, man, a friend had to talk to me for a
while.
I was so hurt and crushed, man. I ain't know how to handle it. It was hard for me to deal with it.

It got to the point where I ain't even speak to her. We started
speaking again after she got inducted into the National Honor Society. She was sitting on the stage, and I came up to her nonchalantly and said, “Congratulations, baby girl.” I kissed her cheek, and she started crying.

I finally realized how wrong I was. I told her I was sorry.

But it was hard, man.

You know how men are. I'm with my nephew, I'll be spittin' venom all day. When we got boys, we tell them to protect themselves, “put somethin' on ya strap.”

Then when you with your girls, it's “Keep ya legs closed! Don't give a nigga nothin'! Take a aspirin, it'll go away!”

Seriously, man. You can come in and catch your son doing it, and you don't say shit.

But a girl? Your daughter? You come home and catch a girl, man, you'll grab the middle of ya chest. You be 'bout to cry.

Men want
all
the pussy. It's, “Look at the ass on
that
muhfucka.” “Nice titties on her.” “She got a mouth, boy, ooo.”

But you got a daughter? “Keep your eyes to yourself, nigga!”

I was at the gas station, and I met a guy who said he used to go with my daughter. This nigga talkin' 'bout some damn sixth grade. What he really was tryin' to say was that he used to be with my daughter, but he ain't say it like that. “Yeah, me and yo' daughter, we was close.”

With Tia and Tamara Lowry of
Sister, Sister.

I got the gas pump in my hand, right? I said, “Man, if you don't get away from my damn car, nigga, I'll make you a damn match.”

You'll be hearin' about the shit on the news: “Bernie Mac burnt the shit out a motherfucker at Shell gas station!”

*  *  * 

But as hurt as I was about my daughter having sex, I had to be fair. I thought about it. I met her mama when I was 16. We was kissin' and huggin' and the whole nine yards.

I'm a hypocrite. I used to go over her mama house and play with her mama while her grandmama was on the couch sleeping or at work. Come in and the whole living room smell like ass. I was tearin' Rhonda ass up every time I got a chance. In a car, at a beach, in a closet. In a stove. In a refrigerator. We almost smothered to death. Ol' Winehead came along and opened it up and saved our lives.

So the experience of dealing with my daughter maturing in that way, that experience made me a better person. I matured. I knew it couldn't be just what I wanted. I realized there are a lot of hipitty critters walkin' 'round this sum'bitch.

I messed up and learned to stop being a hypocrite.

I don't know how to raise a perfect child. Ain't nobody got a manual on that shit, man. My daughter has told me how many times I hurt her and I ain't even know it. She asked me one time, “Why you so hard on me?” I told her that's tough love.

I ain't got no spare, baby girl. You are the only child I have.

I'm not gon' apologize for being a father. But I learned that I can deal with her from another perspective.

Stop being a hypocrite, man.

Face it. You'll show your son how to hit it. You will teach him how to get some pussy. “Move ya hip like this, man. Yeah, they like when ya hit it like that.”

If I had two or three kids, I don't know how I would be. I see a lot of instance where parents have kids and you heard kids saying, “I never got away with what he got away with.”

You raise two or three kids, and the last one gets away with murder.

By me having one, I wanted too much. I had big expectations for
my daughter—and she's meet them and then some, man. But I had to learn how to back off.

Sometimes, I put too much pressure on her. I could have really messed her up. By me being so cold and strict, she might've been a damn lesbian.

But my daughter always had nice taste in men. She ain't pick no poot-butts. They were always good guys.

But you know, I still had to make sure and let the niggas know.

I'd be all nice, invite the nigga to do shit. Man, I took one of them niggas huntin' with me, right? Let the gun go off by his feet. You know.

Blam!

“You all right, nigga?”

I got the gun pointed at him and shit, smiling and talkin'. I tell him: “Man, many accidents happen huntin'.”

So now she's about to get married, and I think that's great. He's a nice guy who has his head on straight. And he's getting a good woman.

My daughter wasn't one of those girls with a bunch of dudes in her life. As far as I know, she was only with those two guys.

Now she's living away from home with her fiancé. And I know they play house where they live. And there's nothing I can do about that. That's on them.

But when they come to my house? Oh, no. Ain't none of that goin' on. They can't stay here together. Come in and it's ooohs, and ahhhs and shit? Oh, no.

Ain't nothin' but one dingaling in my house.

You go to your mama house. Get a hotel. But I ain't got
that
open-minded yet. I'm not going to sit in the next room and listen to you with my daugher. Sorry, it ain't g'wains on.

Tell you a true story: They came home for Christmas one year, my daughter and her fiancé. And when they came, it was during a snowstorm.

This was only the second time we had met him. It was snowing when they came in. We helped them bring in their stuff. My daughter unpacked. We all talkin', right?

So my daughter gon' tell me, “Daddy, it's snowing outside. Can he stay over? I know you ain't gon' make him go all the way to his mama's house in this weather!”

Now grant you, it wasn't snow—it was a blizzard.

I ain't give a fuck. I wanted him out.

Rhonda told him he could stay. I ain't care if he had tennis rackets on his feet. I wanted that nigga
out.

I told him he could spend the night this time. “But he ain't spending the night tomorrow!”

He's over in the guest room. I went in there and slept with that muh'fucka.

Somethin' else that got me. While they were home for the holidays, I noticed that my daughter was picking him up, dropping him off. Running back and forth to take him around.

Now, I'm from the old school. I used to ride the bus to go see her mother. I rode the bus winter, spring, summer, fall. Rhonda's father never dropped me off. I don't give a fuck if it was below zero out that muh'fucka. When it was time to go, I got my ass on the bus.

And he did right. You ain't fuckin' my daughter
and
I'm droppin' you off. You ain't gettin' livery service.

So one night, it's about 12 midnight. My daughter gotta drop him off. She leaves, and she calls me back about five, six in the morning. She talkin' about, “I fell asleep. We got here late, and I didn't want to drive back in bad weather.”

I said, “Who you think you bullshittin'? He should have jumped
his ass out the car while it was still movin'. Nigga shoulda tucked his knees and rolled.”

So the next day, I saw him and I says to him, “Come here, let me talk to you, man.”

I told him I didn't want her dropping him off somewhere. I told him, “You a man. Think about it. She's out on the road by herself. If something happens to her, you ain't gon' do nothin' for her. You'll be too far away. My daugher ain't got no business leaving the house at one, two in the morning droppin' your ass off.”

Man, the nigga got tight with me, man. He ain't speak to me for a couple of days.

I ain't give a fuck.

So New Year's Eve comes. We all over to the house, my daughter, my wife, him, me. I had my shotgun. I went out back, fired it off.

Blam! Blam!
I came back.

He lookin' away.

I looked right at him: “Happy New Year's, muh'fucka.”

I asked him if he was tight. He told me he ain't like what I said to him, that I came on him wrong.

I said, “Let me tell you somethin',
partner.
I don't care about you being mad. I told you the truth. I don't want my daughter being played for a sucker. You a man; I expect you to treat her like you're one.”

He eventually understood where I was coming from, and he got over it.

But shit, I don't care if he didn't.

But yeah, like I said, I know they down there playin' house where they live. I call down there, it's 12 o'clock. I said, “Where's Trey?”

She says, “He right here. He just visitin'.”

Yeah, right, muh'fucka. Nigga ain't just visitin'. That nigga up in there in his draws sittin' around watchin' TV. He live there!

I can accept that. That's what they do down there. But in my house: Oh, no.

Every man wants a woman pure.

But we like a ho. Somebody on the side. Somebody nasty. Somebody who'll swallow it all.