Daddy's Babygirl

Boxes were everywhere. Every square inch of our new living room was covered with a box. Some of the boxes were unopened while others were torn to pieces. That's what happened when you moved and needed something that may be in one of the boxes before you could go through them and put everything away.

For once, my mom was dealing with my crying little brother. I got to have the task of looking for our plates. This chore is one that I took with no problem. It was time she dealt with the monster she created herself instead of making me do it.

I dug through a few boxes without finding what I was looking for. Finally, box number three, I got a break. The pretty, light green, glass plates were sitting in the bottom of the box just waiting to be pulled out and used. “Found them,” I called loud enough that my mom could hear me over the screaming baby she was tending to. I hauled the plates from the box and slowly made my way toward the kitchen, careful not to trip on any of the other boxes that were randomly sitting on the floor, in my way.

Our new apartment wasn't much to look at. But, it was home. It was better than living on the streets. At least, that's what I thought. It had a living room, a bathroom, two bedrooms, and a small kitchen. All connected by a hallway. Each room was a different color, even the hallway. We didn't have much to furnish the apartment so it didn't matter that it was small.

Our dining table fit perfectly into one side of the kitchen. There were bags of groceries propped up on top of it, waiting for me. I set the dishes down and took one bag at a time, placing everything where it needed to go.

My mother walked into the kitchen with the crying baby on her hip. “I was going to say they may be dirty,” she laughed lightly. I'm shocked they weren't dirty. As much attention as she gives any of the motherly chores around here. I mean, our old place. I guess it can be considered here too, since we live here now.

She placed a box of something on the table. My little brother decided that would be the perfect time to start crying again. “Here, Papi. No, no, you can have it.” My mother placed him into his high chair and handed him something. He instantly quit crying.

I wiped down the plates, not wanting to risk using them before I made sure they were sparkling clean. This is just another day in my life. I already knew what today would bring without it happening yet.

The phone rang. My mom didn't even bother to answer it. She pretended that she couldn't hear it. I'm not sure how she was able to ignore it for that long. The sound was too annoying to ignore.

Someone was pressing our button at the front door. I didn't bother answering the phone either as I made my way to the window to see who it was. “It's him,” I called over my shoulder to my mom through a sigh. She always had these random guys coming over for hook ups until she got herself knocked up. Now we had to deal with her “baby daddy” drama. That's the price that I get to pay for being born into this family.

She walked into the room where I was standing, looking out of the window, with my brother wrapped up into her arms. “What are you going to do?” I was curious to know how she'd planned to deal with this guy today. But, she didn't answer me.