Page 65 of Truce Of The Matter

“I hope you didn’t do something dumb,” he has the audacity to say.

“Dumb? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” I bark and one of his bushy ass eyebrows furrows. “I told my daughter what I should have done a long ass time ago. That’s what the fuck I did.”

“And you told her about me?”

“You are her father.” He sighs loudly as hell while shaking his head then he glares at me. I glare back. “What?”

“I’m married. I have two kids and I’m about to take over my father’s church. I can’t have this coming out. She needs to leave me alone. Tell her to stop calling and just let whatever fantasy she has go. Mr. Redmond is her father. That’s what we decided and that’s how it is.”

“We! I didn’t decide shit. Our parents did and your weak ass just let them.”

“I was sixteen.”

“You’re not sixteen now. You are a fucking thirty-seven year old man. Use your voice this time and talk to her.” His hand touches my door knob and I just shake my damn head. “Really, Tremayne?”

He turns his head to speak, obviously too cowardly to face me when he says the next dumb ass words out of his mouth.

“I have two kids. That’s it. Tell her to leave the past in the past.”

“Fuck you,” I yell as he opens my door and walks out. “Bastard.”

His audacity, cowardness, and unwillingness to even acknowledge Daija slaps the shit out of me and I’m still stinging from the blow. Before I can process or think to react rationally, my hands swipe across my desk and my files and inbox tray go crashing to the floor. “Ugh!” I scream in pure anger and frustration.

“Are you okay?” Taj yells as she rushes into the office. Quickly, she scans the mess on the floor and my face. “What the hell did he want?” She sighs before reaching down to pick my stuff up.

“Nothing. Nothing to do with Daija.”

“Daija? What?”

“I told her, Taj. I had to. It was eating me alive to keep it from her. I couldn’t do it anymore. She’s my baby and I had to tell her,” I cry.

Taj quickly puts my things back on my desk and rushes to me. Her arms fly around me and she squeezes me tightly.

“Truce! Oh, why didn’t you tell me?” I don’t have any answer for her so I remain quiet as she holds me. We embrace for afew moments then she peers into my eyes. “Are you okay? Is she okay?” she asks.

“I’m okay and she’s processing. We will be good, Taj. Thanks,” I say, then switch gears. I need to talk to Daija. “I’mma go ahead and leave. My dad and I will be here tomorrow for lunch.”

“Good, everyone will be happy to see him. Go ahead and go. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Thanks again, boo. I love you.”

“You know I love you too.”

She leaves me in the office and I’m walking out five minutes after her. As soon as I’m in my ride, I call Daija. We have to talk; this conversation can’t be had over text. With each ring, I say a silent prayer that she answers, so when she does, I smile. It immediately drops and my heart rate accelerates when I hear her whimper. She’s crying.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“He won’t even talk to me,” she barely gets out through her sobs. “Nothing.”

“It’ll be okay,” I try to assure her.

“No, it won’t. He told me not to call him no more, then he blocked me. Why? Why won’t he even talk to me? I just want to talk to him.”

“That’s on him; not on you and it’s his loss. You hear me? His, not yours. And remember you had a good daddy and you still have him,” I tell her and she sniffles. “Don’t waste your tears on him, okay? Not another one.” Although she responds with a yes, she doesn’t stop crying so I say, “I’m coming. I’ll find a flight tonight.”

“No. Don’t,” she sighs before inhaling and exhaling audibly through the phone. “I’ll be okay,” she says with no confidence.

“I’m coming,” I insist. My phone is now on speaker and I’m opening the Flight app.

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