Arriving at home, I go straight to my bedroom and strip out of my clothes and my damn heels. Heels are another blessing and curse; they hurt like hell, but they help with my shorter stature since I’m only about five-foot-three. Plus, they help lift my ass. Let’s face it, every woman could use something to lift their asses.

Running a hot bath is next on my list. While waiting for the water to finish filling my large tub, I look into the mirror as I put my long red hair in a bun. Then I start removing my makeup from the day, which exposes my freckles that cover my nose. Some people might find them cute, but not me. It’s one of the things that comes along with being a natural redhead. But I try not to complain because I love my dark red hair.

Turning my attention now to my filled tub I dip a toe into the hot water letting out a moan in satisfaction. Once settled I let out another moan as the day slowly washes away. Soaking my throbbing feet and tired body in the hot water is so relaxing that if I’m not careful, I’ll fall asleep. Just as I’m about to close my eyes, my cell phone rings and I know exactly who it is.

“Mom, I told you not to stay up anymore. I’m fine.”

My mother still waits for me to call, or she calls me. She just wants to know that I’m home safe and sound. It could be a southern thing. She’s originally from Louisiana, but before I was born, she moved and opened a business here in New Jersey. She’s always been an overprotective mother. I guess that’s because I’m her only child. I think it also hurts that she’s alone.

She never wanted to get married. It’s not that she didn’t have the opportunity, but I think it’s because she still loves the man who knocked her up and threw her away. Whatever it might be, I truly do love her. I just wish she could find happiness with someone other than me.  There is a lot of pressure that comes with being her everything. But no matter what, I’m her baby and always will be. She’s also my closest friend. We have always been just the two of us, and we’re closer than most mothers and daughters I know.

Hell, she even knows everything about me. I never did hide anything from her, except for one time and she came to my rescue. She was always open with me, so in return I was just as open. She even knows who I lost my virginity to. She also knows when I’m making mistakes. She has always helped guide me through life. Mom claims, “You should never do anything in life you can’t look at yourself in the mirror and not regret.” She also taught me how to watch and learn from others’ mistakes, including my own. She says, “In life, you will make mistakes, but you have to learn from them so you won’t repeat them.” Did I mention how much I love and admire that woman? To others she might just be an old stripper, but to me she has been my provider, my educator, and my strength.  

“Mom, I’m sorry I forgot to call. I’m so tired. Today was exhausting. I just wanted to come home and relax.”

“It’s all right, Mon Chéri. You know I just can’t sleep without hearing from you at the end of the night.”

Mom, being Cajun, always calls me Mon Chéri, or simply Chéri; it means ‘my darling’ or ‘beloved’ in French.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m home, so you can go to sleep now.”

“Murphy, I wanted to talk to you about your father.”

Startled, I sit up, shout, “My who?”

Now the conversation takes a quick turn, from loving to scolding.

“Damn it, Murphy, don’t start with me. His attorney called. He would like to see us both tomorrow. He claims your father is very sick.”

“Mom, I don’t want to talk about him to you or his attorney. I barely know the man. I saw him, maybe a handful of times in my life? There is no need for me to know anything else.”

“Tomorrow, Murphy! We will both meet with his attorney. That’s my final say. You will be there!”

“I can’t tomorrow, I have a huge party going on at the club.”

“I will expect to see you at the club an hour earlier than you would’ve originally gone. I don’t want to get there and not see you. You understand me, Murphy?”

Rolling my eyes, I tell her, “Yes, ma’am, fine, I’ll be there.”

“Good. I love you, Chéri. Everything will be okay, you’ll see.”

“Love you, too, Mom. See you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

I hang up, frustrated. She knows I don’t want to know anything about the man I’m named after. He made his choice, and we were not it. Sure, he’s my father, but he was never my dad, and I don’t need anything from him, not anymore.

When I would see him when I was little, it was few and far between. I remember waiting and waiting for him to come back, crying and begging God for him to come back realizing he needed and loved me enough to want me in his life, but that never happened. Instead, he would come three or four times a year to drop off presents and money to replace the love he couldn’t give. It was a far cry from what I really needed from him. All I wanted was to be his little girl. To be recognized.

Later, as I started getting older, the visits got less and less, becoming a once or twice a year visit. Then nothing, no visits or calls. Shit, I haven’t seen or heard from him since I was thirteen. I’m twenty-five now, that’s twelve years I haven’t heard from the man. Growing up, I would have given him a thousand chances to come back into my life.  And sure, like most, I recognize I had daddy issues. But today I don’t, I’m better and stronger. Hell, if I’m honest, he’s probably the reason I gave my virginity to the first boy who said he loved me. What a crock of shit. I don’t believe in love anymore. If a father can’t love his daughter, how can a man love a woman like she’s supposed to be loved?

I can gladly give up on the idea of love, but not sex. I kind of learned early on that I liked sex. Now, I’m not a whore. I have had just a few men in my life, and I can tell you that right now I feel like my vagina is growing cobwebs. I haven’t had sex in months, since my last boyfriend. The lying, cheating bastard; I gave him almost a year of my life for nothing. I didn’t ask for marriage because I don’t believe in it, but I did ask for honesty, and that was something he couldn’t provide. So obviously, I’m currently single, but hopefully not for too much longer because I miss having sex. I just want it to be with someone who will be honest with me so I can relax enough to enjoy the connection, that’s all.

Is it too much to ask?