“What?”
“These ain’t even your clothes.”
Instead of laughing at me or hollering or going over to one of the girls sitting in the line of the lavandería chairs and telling them, Look at this girl, she don’t even wash her own clothes, Alé hugged me. Came right up to me and enveloped me into the damp sweat of her shirt.
We sat there watching the water flood in on the fabrics, turning them all a darker color and then taking them for a spin. Alé tried asking me what was going on, why I haven’t been around, what’s up with our rent, but I kept my eyes on the suds of soap collecting on the glass. She dropped it and stared with me until it was time to change the load.
I get off the bus in Stockton, which looks like the desert has found its way to Northern California, reminding me of what it was like up in Marin County the day we reunited with Daddy. The dust in the air gets in my eyes and I hope Mama’s got enough heart left in her to disregard Marcus’s absence.
The day Daddy got released from San Quentin, Mama borrowed Uncle Ty’s dusty Honda and drove Marcus and me to Marin to pick him up. Marcus didn’t wanna come. Mama threatened him with everything she could think of until finally, when she said she’d take away his time with Uncle Ty, he said he’d go. We were sitting in the back of the car while Mama paced around the parking lot in front of us, the buildings uniform and cream-colored and industrial. I watched Marcus’s twelve-year-old fingers search the cracks separating the middle seat, coming up with cracker crumbs, remnants of weed, and a broken pencil.
Daddy walked out of those doors with his arms spread up, hands facing the sky, teeth so dazzlingly white I thought he must’ve been using whitening strips inside, but Daddy said it was just God keeping them clean so he’d look nice for his babies. His face was so unfamiliar, I didn’t even realize it was him until Marcus huffed beside me and Mama took off running across the parking lot toward him. She ran fast, sprinted into him, and he stumbled back, but held on to her waist. Mama gripped her hand inside his short ’fro, speckled silver, and we could see her shaking from afar.
After a while, they walked hand in hand toward us. Mama motioned for us to get on out the car, but Marcus told me to stay put. He gripped my hand. When the two of them climbed into the car, Mama looked back at us, strained her eyelids as wide open as they would get, and said, “You say hi to your daddy now.”
I squeaked out a “hi” and Marcus stayed silent beside me, his hand tightening around mine like he was worried I’d slip away.
“You ready to go home?” Mama’s voice was a wash of relief, her smile so wide all her teeth showed through.
Daddy shook his head. “Nah, baby, I can’t be going back inside yet. Let’s go to the lake, yeah? What you say, kids?” He looked back at us and, even though this strange man still didn’t feel like my father, the way his face spread open and lit up from the gums made me want to belong to him.
“Yeah, Mama, the lake!” I nodded.
Marcus shook his head, but when Daddy asked if he’d be alright with us going on an adventure, he said, “I go where Ki goes,” and even now I don’t think he’s ever said nothing about me that made me feel more special.
Mama drove back to Oakland and parked on a side street near Grand Avenue. We heard the sounds as we started walking to the lake. Daddy had his arm around Mama when he steered her toward the pergola, Marcus and I holding hands and following, the drums chorusing our arrival.
We should have known Daddy would hear the drum circle and gravitate right into it. Daddy sauntered up to one of the drummers and pulled him into a clap-back hug, mumbled to him in his sweet talk till the man handed his drum right over to Daddy, who joined the group’s rhythm like he was born into it.
Daddy always knew how to enter the music, his hands slapping, chin tilting in every direction. This newly free man bobbing like he hadn’t seen the things he’d seen. Mama stood straight and still, faintly swaying, and I could tell she was waiting for something to happen. Waiting for Daddy to collapse. But he didn’t. He just kept on slapping that drum, grinning at us. Eventually, he gave the man his drum back and Daddy went over to Mama and whispered in her ear until, finally, Mama’s mouth opened wide and the melody came out like it had just been uncaged. Daddy separated from her and started clapping, looking at everyone around him like Damn, that’s my woman, look at her sing.
Next, Daddy locked eyes with me and strutted right over to where Marcus and I had our hands locked together, watching.