homeless.
Daddy
My mrst real memory of my daddy is when I was three and
he head-butted my mom.
She was wearing one of those all-white jumpers like the
girls had in the eighties, those sexy jumpers that women
used to wear. I don’t know why they were mghting, but I
remember being on the couch and screaming loud and stuĉ
and seeing blood. He head-butted my mom, and beat his
own head, and blood was pouring down his face and her
nose, and her white jumper was just covered with blood, all
over.
Not too long ago, I asked my mom about this:
Tiffany: “Was that a dream that I had, that Dad head-
butted you and your nose was bleeding?”Mom: “No, you remember that?”Tiffany: “Why was y’all fighting?”Mom: “Because I threw hot water on him.”Tiffany: “Why did you throw hot water on him?”Mom: “Because he came in the house at two in the
morning, and he didn’t give me the $300 he was