Sweaters by Heaven Evette Creater (books to get back into reading txt) 📖

gon tell me. I remember when I took her to the park one time, and bought her an ice-cream cone. She dropped it, and I bought her another, no questions asked. She ate some of it but offered me the rest. She told me that I should take it. I guess she felt bad about droppin the first one. I told her it was ok but she insisted on me havin it, so I took it. It felt nice to be given somethin…even if it’s as little as an ice-cream cone.

 

For some strange reason, that made me feel good. It made me feel like I was doin somethin right for a change. Most of my life I did wrong…then God gave me this little girl to look after. I didn’t do a good job, not at all. She in the hospital sick, maybe even dead…and it’s my fault. I was always a good boy when I was younger. Never hung out with the wrong people, I got good grades, and was always home before the street lights came on.

 

Then my dad died when I was fourteen. That messed me up pretty bad. We were never really close, but I know I loved him…and I knew he loved me from a distant. I started drinking and doing drugs on the low…even sold em for a little while. Momma needed help with the bills, but I neva told her where I got the money from when she asked me. I was neva home on time anymore and my grades started to slip. I was even in this small clique full of slackers and idiots.

 

Haha, my momma whooped my ass all the time when I actually did go home. But I love her; I was always a momma’s boy. I used to get teased all the time. Five years ago I had found out that she had died and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Then a few days later, Tamar had left in the morning…but she didn’t come back. That messed me up even more…I felt like I had lost the two most important people in my life at the time. I didn’t go to the funeral, but I think that made things worse.

 

Not for me…. but for Secret. I now had to face reality and take care of this little girl by myself and realize that my mom was dead. But I couldn’t handle it no more. I was always mad. Mad at the world, mad at Tamar, mad at Secret but mostly mad at myself. I was fired for coming in really late, and on top of that, for being drunk. I threw a “small” hissy fit about it and almost got arrested. I didn’t think it was fair at the time…I felt like my world was bein torn apart. I couldn’t cope with the fact that I had lost everything. My mom, my job and the girl I was starting to fall in love with.

 

She was my best friend, but I think she loved the drugs more than me. And I was angry so I took my anger out on Secret. The more I was mad, the more I drank and the more Secret had to deal with it. She would come and try to comfort me. I always pushed her away. I remember the very first time I hit her…I didn’t mean to at all. I was askin her somethin…I couldn’t remember what though.

 

She was sitting in the kitchen drawing a picture. But she wouldn’t answer me and it was pissing me off. But I kept askin and askin her but she wouldn’t answer. Then finally she said in a heartless tone, “You’re drunk Daniel…you’re mean when you’re drunk.” That had hurt my feelings…so bad that I just lost it and slapped her. I had slapped her so hard that she fell out the chair. She cried instantly as she held her cheek and looked at me like I had a gun to her head.

 

That look killed me so bad that I felt like I was stabbed twice in the heart. Instantly, I had felt really bad and I tried to help her up but she kept crying and scooting away. …She’s never cried with me and it hurt my feelings. I felt ashamed…and to make me feel better, I drank some more. The process repeats: Do somethin, feel bad, and drink through it...again and again. I’m sorry that I ever laid a finger on her. I’m sorry I let Sheila convince me to do somethin so horrible; she’s just a little girl. She didn’t deserve any of it and I’m sorry…just so sorry. I want to…no, I need to make it up to her…I’m goin back.

 

“Danny, are you alright?” Sheila asked braiding her hair into a side ponytail.

 

She came out of the bathroom and walked towards me. She stood behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders. She started to massage them and hum to herself. “I’m ok.” I sighed as I rubbed my hands together and leaned forward to look down.

 

“You sure? You’ve been real quiet since we left.” She said softly.

 

“Oh, I didn’t notice.” I said quietly, shrugging her hands off of me.

 

“Well, you were…just making sure you’re ok.” She said walking away from me to the window.

 

I looked up at her with suspicion. She was wearing a neon green halter top and cream colored booty shorts that said “Dangerous” on the back.

 

“What a coincidence…” I mumbled under my breath.

 

She turned to look at me. “Did you say somethin?”

 

“Nope.” I said with my eyes burning into hers.

 

“…what’s wrong?” she asked.

 

“Nothin.” I answered flatly.

 

“Oh…ok.” She said keeping her eye on me while heading towards the bathroom again. It’s crazy how people change on you. When I met Sheila, I admit, I was just tryna get some cash out of her. But then she just stuck around; started buying me suits and gifts and was just making me feel better about myself just a bit. That’s when I fell for her. Why would she, or anyone for that matter, stick around me? I’m just a bum…a drunk…and a abuser. Maybe that’s what turns her on. She needs someone on the same level as herself; someone as devious as her. She killed her own parents and she don’t give a damn that she did it.

 

She tried to kill Secret…maybe she succeeded…and I let her. I hate myself for that. I admit, when she first suggested it I wanted to knock her ass out! The plan to poison my baby, the one I’ve taken care of for like nine years, pierced my heart and shattered my soul. It was like a sibling relationship: Just because I bully them, don’t mean you can. I know I love her. And I know I didn’t show it often, but I do…honestly.

 

I show it sometimes because I know it makes her feel good. I want her to be happy. I hate the look of fear and anger on her face. I try my best to be a “father” but it seem like I always fail in the end. I’ve bought her things but I know I cant buy her love. I have to earn it by showing it. You reap what you sew. That’s what my momma used to tell me. Man, all this thinkin is bringing me down. I need a drink…just one more. I stood up and grabbed the keys off the table.

 

“Where are you goin?” Shelia asked as she peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway.

 

“I need a drink.” I replied simply as I grabbed the keys and my black leather jacket and headed for the door.

 

“Um, I don’t think you should do that.” She said jumping in front of me.

 

“At least not now, I mean were kind of in the middle of a situation.” She said nervously.

 

“Besides Daniel, it’s 5:30 in the morning!”

 

“Shelia move, I just want a drink…just one.” I said trying to push past her.

 

“You’ll be right back?” she asked finally giving in.

 

“yea…” I replied.

 

“You promise?” she asked uncertainly.

 

“I promise baby.” I said softly as I kissed her on the cheek and held my hand behind my back with my fingers crossed.

 

She moved out of the way and I stepped into the hall. I grabbed the door handle and took one good final look at her. Was I drunk the whole relationship? Maybe. I thought as I shrugged it off.

 

“Hurry back, we gotta rest up so we can leave soon.” She said with a smirk.

 

I just looked at her, disgusted with what I had allowed her to do. How can she keep so calm knowing what she did? I tremble every time I think about the times I hurt Secret. I wasted my time with this bitch. How come I didn't realize that before? I’m trying not to lose it.

 

“Ok…I’ll be back.” I said softly as I closed the door and walked slowly to her car.

 

Tamar:

 

Dear Diary,

It’s about 9:30 in the morning. I just woke up, I never really sleep well. I turned to my side, away from Miguel, and starred out into the window. The sun looked beautiful hanging above the trees, like a golden spot. Just waiting for the perfect time to drop down and melt all the snow that was left. Miguel started to squirm around a bit before settling down.

 

I sat up slowly and looked at him. He looked uncomfortable and he was sweating. I slowly climbed out of bed, careful not to wake him, and tip toed out of the room. I walked to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. My face was clear and my hair was healthy and clean. I turned around towards the full body mirror and checked my legs and arms. The needle marks and scars were still on my arms, but they were fading away. Some of them were gone.

 

I was a little bit thicker than before, still a petite frame, but not entirely skinny. I’ve come a long way. I can’t stop thinking about my baby. You just don’t know how bad I want to love and hold her. But I don’t think she’ll let me. I’m still trying to convince myself whether or not she really meant what she said.

 

A part of me thinks that this is a bad idea and another part doesn’t want to give up too soon. Maybe Miguel is right, maybe she doesn’t believe I’m her mother. I pray to God to forgive me for everything. I pray every day and now, I pray for him to give me my baby back. I want her, I need her and I’ve never stopped thinking about her. I might have been a dead beat mother, but I’m here now….and I’m here for good.

 

I put the pencil down and closed the book as I heard Miguel slowly come down the stairs. He had on a dark grey t-shirt and a pair of light grey sweat pants. He had one hand on his head. He came into the kitchen and walked right past me.

 

“Good Morning.” I said as I watched him get a mug out of the cabinet.

 

He turned around quickly and looked at me as if he didn’t know me. Then his confused look turned to relief. “Oh, Buenas dias.” He said softly as he turned back around and walked towards the coffee machine.

 

It was quiet for a moment. The only sounds came from Miguel and his coffee machine.

 

“I called you in for work.” I said trying to break the silence.

 

“Oh, thanks.” He smiled weakly.

 

“No problem.” I said quietly as I looked down and played with the pen.

 

He sat down in the chair across from me and put his hair into a pony tail. It was quiet again. He folded his arms and took in a deep breath as he looked around the room.

 

“How’d you sleep?” we both asked at the same time.

 

We both smiled.

 

“I slept ok.” I responded.

 

“Me too.” He agreed.

 

“You want coffee?” he asked standing up