Happy Birthday Dear Dante

It was the worst. Roly’s mom was all like, No, you are not coming into this house, and in my head I was like, really? It’s your grandson’s birthday or whatever and it’s gonna be like that? Really?

Whatever, I said. Where’s Roly?

Mind you I am still standing outside the fence. This woman, she would not even open the gate for me. Tell me what that tells you about her, ok? Because you know she knows me. She’s known me since like I was fourteen, right? Like for four years. So I don’t even get it, but ok, fine. I’m just standing on the street in the middle of Hialeah with her son’s kid on my hip and sweating like crazy, but no biggie, right?

ok, so I see how it is. She says, Rolando’s not here.

And then she like squashed her lips like she was super not impressed with me showing up at her house again, crossed her arms like this at me, over her chest.

I was like, Bullshit! so I say to her, I seen him right there!

Right where? she says to me, and so I moved Dante to my other hip and I point at the window, which I know is their kitchen.

There, I say to her. I even go, In the kitchen, so she could remember how I used to be there every day for like all those years.

And right then the curtain moves and I’m like, see! and Dante starts clapping like we practiced for after the Happy Birthday song so I have to be all like, Oh my god not yet.

Then she goes, I’m gonna call the police! But she says this like every time so I’m like whatever.

I yell to the window, Roly! Get your ass out here and call your mom offa me already! This is getting tired!

And then she’s like, I told you he’s not here. But I catch her looking back at the door and shaking her hand near her hip so I’m like, What is that! What are you doing?

Rolando! she yells.

And then, there he is.

I haven’t seen his face in like four weeks. In like a month. So I bend down on my side of their fence so I can get like a bunch of rocks.

Roly goes, Don’t you fucking throw rocks at me, Leidy! Be a fucking grown ass woman for once!

I know, right? So I throw like a bunch of those little white rocks at his car in the driveway. He was all like, Leidy Leidy oh my god what the fuck or whatever.

The rocks—it sounded worse than it was. They weren’t big rocks. They were like those clean rocks you buy at the store for your yard or whatever. His mom had put them around her pepper plants to keep the weeds off them. They’re not even rocks. They’re like nothing.

Once the rocks all go like tah-tah-tah-tah-tah off the side of his Integra and fall to the ground, I go to him, Don’t talk to me about being a grown ass adult, ok? Cuz you’re the one living with his mom, ok? Who won’t even come see his own kid on his own birthday.

He goes: His birthday isn’t until Saturday!

Then he goes: The party’s on Saturday!

I wished he was like closer to the fence right then so I could smack him in the head. Because yeah, the party’s Saturday or whatever, but he knew Dante’s actual birthday was actually that day that I was there, that Thursday. But you’re not gonna have a kid’s party on a Thursday, right? Who does that, right?

Exactly, that’s all I’m saying.

Then from his mom—she goes: You need to stop making excuses to come here. We don’t want you here.

And I feel like going, Too freaking bad...