Dating My Dad

By Apple Dailey

For Shelby, childhood was anything but guilt-free. According to her father, Spivey, she was to blame for anything and everything wrong in his life. In his eyes, she would never be good enough for anything. Spivey worked to manipulate Shelby into believing his way of disciplining her was love. Shelby grew up fast and was wise beyond her years due

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clean Slate Enterprise
• Release date: May 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781087963754

Book preview

Introduction

For Shelby, childhood was anything but guilt-free. According to her father, Spivey, she was to blame for any and everything wrong in his life. In Spivey’s eyes, his daughter has never been good for anything. He tried to brainwash her with his madness. Shelby had no choice but to grow up fast. When the opportunity presented itself, she takes off for a chance at a life better than the one she has known searching for unconditional love and a safe place to rest.

She thinks she has found true love, but instead she has gotten exactly what she didn’t want; the kind of man she hated. Now Shelby must find the strength to overcome being trapped in this cycle of life.

New on the scene in the literary community, Apple Dailey depicts the consequential endangerment of a girl’s relationship with a father. Apple describes in her surreal novel the trials & triumphs of Shelby, a woman’s life without the true love of a father.

{Episode 1}

Regina knew Spivey couldn’t stand the sight of me; so, I don’t know why she was trying to get me to tell a lie to the police officer as if I didn’t see my life zooming before me. How in the hell could she expect me to forget him swinging a 2-by-4 board, full of sharp nails at my head? Before that, he choked me until the air in my lungs paused; he ripped off the new necklace that my Auntie Pinkie had just given me.

I wasn’t trying to hit him back, but my reactions took over and I did just that, landing my fist smack dead in the middle of his right jawbone. I was trying to protect my face from the blow of the board and Spivey from possibly disfiguring me. He didn’t give a damn if I was family, he was furious! He swung that 2-by-4 at me with all the strength he possessed. Spectators thought I was a stranger that had swallowed the last sip of his beer or worse, the last hit of his pint of Night Train, not his daughter. He was shocked that I fought him back and so was I. Humiliation had taken over, but I was too afraid to die at the hands of my inebriated father.

Sir, he didn’t mean to harm her. He disciplined her for coming in the house too late. He lost his temper when she didn’t answer him, that’s all. As usual, Regina jumped in, lying, and defending the piece of man she had, choosing his side over mine. One officer said, Ma’am still, it’s not appropriate for you all to be outside with these shenanigans. If you want to get drunk and fight, stay in your home and not outside disturbing the peace. What peace? I said noticeably. Our snooping neighbors were always outside watching and talking about any and everything that crossed their feeble minds, especially Marva. She loved to sit on her decomposing porch furniture yapping and bending all truths. Regina called her the yellow pages because she knew everybody’s business. There was no peace in our neighborhood if it wasn’t us, somebody else was arguing and fighting. Especially around the first of the month when the government checks came out, all we heard was laughing and partying. As soon as the music went off, the cussing and fighting began.

Anyway, I watched the squad cars pull off wishing they had him in the backseat taking him somewhere far away from 18th Street. Although they warned Spivey and Regina of the consequences of them coming back, I knew the madness wasn’t over.

I walked slowly into the house and closed the door behind me softly as if I was sneaking in; I was. Spivey hated getting exposed. He couldn’t stand it when somebody called the police on him, even if he was beating Regina blind; I had better not ever try to rescue her. Neither Regina nor I had the guts to rat him out to the cops in fear that it would be a miserable day for both of us. Spivey was the man of the house; he had to have total control over everything and everybody in it, wrong or right!

We made eye contact and I paused for a few minutes waiting to see if he was going to say something to me, but I swear my heart thumped one hundred beats per minute. I thought he would see it through my blouse and use it as an opportunity to attack me again, simply because he knew that he was able to put fear in me; he didn’t. I went on to my bedroom and plopped down on the bed to breathe a bit, before taking my clothes off. I should have taken a bath, but I put on some clean PJs anyway. I would’ve had too damn near wet myself before I’d step out of that room again. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Spivey; I just couldn’t find a place for me in his heart. It seemed like he despised anything, and everything connected to me. He hated my dog, my cat, my friends, my mother, and most of all he hated me. Once he felt I was attached to anything, he snatched it or them away from me leaving me alone to figure out life all on my own. He loved to break up the ground I walked on. He was training me for the ways of the world, as he said it. Though Regina was my mother, he made sure that I understood she was his woman first and only my momma whenever he wasn’t using her.

Through the long hard years, I developed a love-hate relationship with Spivey. I loved him for being my father and I hated him most of the time because he made it impossible for me to wrap my loving arms around him with all the bruises, he adorned me with. On top of that, he criticized whatever I did, period! I tried everything to make him love me, but he just didn’t. If he did care, he had a strange way of showing it. Most of the time, I felt abandoned and alone. That’s why I’d only let people in my little world just long enough to have a few laughs. Once the good times were gone, so was I emotionally; I couldn’t trust anyone. I didn’t think people could be happy too long without pulling you down the sad drain with them.

Though I befriended many, I didn’t keep them long. If I did, just like the hands of time, Spivey would come right behind me like a clock’s second hand destroying whatever friendships I built. He seemed to enjoy snatching away time I’d never get back. He’d embarrass me by jumping to conclusions or sizing me up, belittling me and assuming the worst about me. Spivey turned everybody against me yet scaring them off. I twisted the wide opened valve that pours out all my feelings, into a slow drip. I dried up any thoughts of them coming in and hurting me, then taking off out of my life with pieces of me scattered all around town. I got so tired of re-introducing and re-explaining myself. I felt like a failure of a Twelve Step Program of life always trying to recover from the bad reputation that my own dad constantly put out there about me. So many people already had the evil eye on me, they were intently watching for the lies that Spivey volunteered concerning me while he sipped from his brown paper bag. To this day, I still don’t understand how people could believe a liar, especially tales from a person they knew to be a fabricator. Anytime someone would get comfortable with him enough and had the courage to confront him about his wrongdoings, he would deny any accusations with a straight face. The entire neighborhood witnessed our family drama, at least twice a year. He was a horrible liar; he was worse than a guilty man on the witness stand heading for death row. For some odd reason Spivey thought, he was invincible and innocent until proven otherwise. My dad thought he had every right to do as he pleased when it came to his family, and nobody had a right to say anything about it.

As far back as I could remember Spivey’s transformation toward me began right when I needed him the most, just about the time I became 8 years old. I wondered if he noticed the difference in me as I had. I knew I was unusual for a child my age, but I couldn’t help who I was. I was special, witty, and just as harmless as a butterfly. Yet, I had the strength of an army when I spoke; the strength that he tried to break at every conceivable opportunity. Maybe that’s what triggered his animosity towards me? My wisdom, strength, and courtesy remained anybody’s guess where it came from. I had no idea that it would piss Spivey off that much to burn my bridges with him. Though we lived in the grimy inner city of Milwaukee, I had big dreams of living somewhere else, like in one of those fancy homes on the far east side just over the riverbanks. Regina worked a lot and Spivey had income coming in, so I felt if they wanted to, we could live better and not in the slums if they chose to. Spivey hated that about me. Let him tell it, I had a chip on my shoulder that made him question whom my dad really was. Sometimes I agreed with him because my parents both seemed to love living in the hood and begging for what they needed and spending their money on what they wanted. Anyway, the gentleness and endurance that I held; I didn’t recognize in either of them. I’m adopted? I wished. Who was I kidding; Spivey and Regina were selfish, poverty-stricken, and so into themselves and each other to add an extra to their disordered lives on purpose; he already said he wished I were never born? If they had another child, it would be a trial from God.

Before my Grandmother died, God rest her soul, she told me about my mother’s liveliness before she met my dad. I couldn’t picture Regina being happy unless she was trying to keep Spivey from pounding on her. Grandma said Regina was hopping around at life like a fish in shallow waters, very unaware of the danger she was in once Spivey had zeroed in on her. He hooked that gurl through her mouth with his popular gift of gab and carried her home draining her of her sweet innocent essence. However, once he got her alone to himself, he laid out his plans. That man spread her out on his table scraping away her identity with the sharpest blades of lies and broken promises he had. That man scaled away my baby’s protective shield until there was nothing I could say or do to help her again. He must have used some solid golden hooks, Grandma? I said as I laughed with my grandmother, but I was scared after I heard that. Now, that I think about it, she was right about Regina. Time produced days that progressed into months and months into anniversaries. For Regina, it was a very long time away from all that she had ever known and loved.

I barely knew my mother’s side of the family. She stopped going to her family’s functions to shelter Spivey from his in-law’s criticisms of him. Yes, my mother’s family hated the day he was born. The last thing I remember my grandmother saying to Regina was, I’ve done all I can do for you, Gina. Your head is as thick as the skulls on your daddy’s ’nem side. Thank God, your father ain’t here to see the rat you let into our cozy home. He’d probably sit up in his casket if you ever went out to Grace Moore to visit him. Of course, my mother didn’t hear a word her mother said.

Anyway, I tried everything possible to stay on that man’s good side and out of his way, whenever his bad side arrived, which was every day, after his first pint. I stayed busy and on the go most of the time. I was under-weight from being nervous and nauseous. I walked on eggshells without crushing them so that Spivey wouldn’t get pissed off at me. I attempted numerous times to make Regina aware of his offenses toward me, but as usual, she didn’t want to hear it and chose to overlook any the red flags, pink flags, and purple flags too. She downplayed all his foolishness, calling them mistakes. Fuckups like when he would stagger home, after a long day of drinking and after she had a long hard day of standing on her feet cleaning hotel rooms. Regina would often find pleasure in cleaning up the funky vomit he released throughout the house. She even tried to forget the deep bruises he left on her once clear and beautiful dark skin. She excused him, saying he was just old-fashioned and even claimed that he was just like everybody else who made mistakes. If that’s what they did in the olden days to their loved ones, I was glad to be born in the 70s. Regardless, I don’t want any man to wear and tear the hell out of me with his fists, then excuse it as a mistake. Moreover, try to bandage me up with an I’m sorry baby. Makes me wonder if that’s the reason she took his lifestyle in stride. Could she have witnessed things such as this when she was a child? Had she given into the lie that being committed and receiving love meant she had to endure abuse? Did Regina believe that having a man meant that she didn’t exist for any purpose outside of him? Regina would bypass her gut feelings to forget his mess because she was in love with Spivey, but I wasn’t, and I didn’t.

I remember the time in 1983 when Spivey came home with a cute big-headed puppy. He said the puppy was to be for protection until he discovered it was a fake. It was a Boston terrier mixed with Pit Bull. He thought he had a purebred Pit; what did he expect for $20.00? I didn’t care if he was a Pit Bull or a fake, I loved that puppy. It was love at first sight; my face lit up, whenever I saw him. He had small furry ears and big furry paws and I loved the way he smelled. He liked to eat the hot dogs and scrambled eggs that I fed him for breakfast. I looked forward to coming home from school to feeding the puppy and taking him out to play. He was the best excuse to get out of the house and away from Spivey and his drunkenness.

I will never forget one particularly ugly day. I was a couple of minutes late coming home from my first day of summer school. I had picked out some special Dandelions from the mesh for Regina and stopped at the corner store to get some hot dogs with the single dollar food stamp that I had left. I chit chatted with my meddlesome neighbors a bit then happily headed home. The house was quiet as I walked up and entered. Where was my happy puppy to greet me? I checked the bathroom, the kitchen, all over the house. I couldn’t find him! I called him several times, but no puppy. My heart felt like it was going to stop when I noticed all his things were gone. I knew in my heart that my pain had Spivey’s name written all over it.

A few weeks had gone past my heartache from not having my happy puppy around. Now, I can admit that I felt as if that puppy loved me more than anybody I knew; at least he needed me. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering if he was all right and if whoever had him was aware that he liked hot dogs and scrambled eggs.

Spivey interrupted my favorite sitcom- Good Times, ordering me to make a run to Mr. Carl’s corner store to buy his cigarettes. I turned the TV off, put on my Jellies and walked toward the kitchen. On my way out of the back door, I heard a soft whimpering coming from below, in the basement. Though I was scared, I continued traveling toward the sound as far as my fears would allow me. It was spooky, cold, and funky but something kept moving my feet. A tiny seam of light guided me closer to what echoed like a pitiful bark. It was a dog trapped in the small dark room in our basement. I pried open the door. Oh my God! I cried aloud; it was my puppy. The little fella still had a chain wrapped around his neck and when I pulled on it to lift him to his feet; the chain came loose with some of his flesh dangling in the links. I squatted down and scooped him up carrying him, feeling my way around to the wash tub to clean the blood from his wounds. The clumps of hair and rotted flesh that crumbled off covered the sink and made me nauseous. We made it outdoors and I collapsed with him in my arms. I laid him down and ran into the house to get some towels not giving a damn about Spivey and his funky cigarettes. The puppy was motionless and near dead from starvation and I didn’t expect that he could walk. When I got back to the bottom stair, he was standing there soaked and wet in the doorway gazing up at me with generous eyes as if he remembered me. He looked as if he had matured but was still the same size from starvation. I wrapped him up in the towels and held him as we sat under the Apple tree.

I hid the puppy in an abandoned garage not far from where I lived. I was able to check on him every day; nursing him back to good health was a joy for me. I began re-training him and it wasn’t long before he was just a cute and friendly puppy again. I decided to name him; I called him Life. He was full of it too. I found myself confiding in him a lot. He became my best friend. We’d play together escaping the reality of the horrible things Spivey did to the both of us.

Spivey was angry, once he noticed Life sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Hell naw! Get that mutt out of here! Life growled at him. Spivey tried to stare him down, but Life growled again and leaped for Spivey. No! Sit! I commanded. Life eased down on his back paws then to his front ones laying his head down in submission to me. Not once, did he take his eyes off his enemy; from that point on, we protected each other. He had my back. Then to my surprise, Spivey went on and approved him to stay. In some small way, I believe that my dad felt guilty for trying to get rid of my precious puppy. Regardless, he was a smart animal that didn’t forget. Life never bowed down to him again.

About a month later, Spivey told Regina to keep the alley cat that he found which he named Low-Life. He lied, telling her that rats roamed our basement. Nevertheless, things were smooth between Life and the cat, whenever I was around. Low-Life slapped boxed the puppy and bit his tail often. They chased each other throughout the house every day. It was their way of communicating, I guess. Which is why I could not accept the tale my dad told me when I came home from school searching for the cat? Here kitty-kitty, I called as I looked all over. I don’t know whatcha looking for. That cat is dead and yo damn stupid dog ate it! So, I got rid of him ’fore he eats somebody else up and you ain’t got no money to pay nobody’s hospital bills, he said. He told me this with a mean mug, no sympathy at all. I broke down to my knees crying. I knew if something was wrong, Spivey was the main suspect. He couldn’t help himself; he was evil, filled with hate and revenge that often resulted in abusive destructive actions. I didn’t believe my dog would do such a thing; they loved playing with each other. It didn’t add up right at all. I should’ve known he would’ve been up to something way before this occurred, but I just didn’t want to believe my dad could be so cruel again.

Anyway, Spivey was my dad and I had to love him. I would do just about anything to keep the peace with him, even if he enjoyed hurting me. I just didn’t know what to do or what would work to maintain the harmony. He was always irritated with me, even when he was sober. When he was drunk, he told me that I was a good for nothing that would never amount to anything. He said that I would be pregnant after the first sight of blood beginning my maturity. To top it all, he often reminded me that I was a little ugly bitch. You take after yo’ momma nem side, with them big foreheads and big hands. He’d pick and joke. Let him tell it, he was just brutally honest and would rather me hear it from him because he was someone that gave a damn about me instead of a stranger who could care less. He always said that I talked too much. At times, I did. I always made effort to fill in the gaps of time between him and me. I wanted to connect with him in hopes of breaking up the cells of my growing tumor of resentment toward him.

Whenever I brought friends around, he loved to size me up comparing me to them. He’d say things like, how I should be like them and how much better they dressed than me and how good they looked. Over the phone, he’d be mean to them. Hell naw, Shelby ain’t here! And when you see her ass, tell her to come home and clean up this nasty house! I stopped the few friends I had from calling once he hit me in the mouth with the phone. Is Shelby there? Is Shelby there? he asked as he repeated in a low deep tone, then a high-pitched squeal, grinning, mocking the different voices of my friends who called. I laughed thinking he was teasing and ended up grabbing my mouth to catch the blood that oozed onto my chin. I pay the bills! You are 13 with no damn job. Don’t you ever forget that! And bet not nobody call here no fuckin’ mo’ asking for you! You got that. Now gone outside some damn where, before I draw some blood out of yo’ ass! "What did I do," I asked myself in shock? He gave me a look that sent pain from my stomach into my toes. My legs took heed and led me to the back stairs and outside.

I walked to the front to sit on the porch wondering what I was going to use to soak up the rest of the blood. I was afraid that one of our prying neighbors would see me, so I hopped up and proceeded to the backyard. That’s when I noticed Regina pulling up in the side driveway coming home from work. I ran to her for comfort, Momma, look what Dad did. I showed her as I was opening my mouth. Back up before you get blood on his car. Let me look. She took hold of my chin while moving my head upward for a closer look. Turn your head to the right, she examined. Regina reached in her purse, pulled out a small restaurant napkin and moistened it with a bit of her saliva. "Here; wipe your mouth, you’ll be all right. You