“WHO IS THE FATHER?” I repeated the question for the umpteenth time.
Timaya went in circles. She’d confessed to the sex. She’d been with four people. The child’s father numerous times.
“How long has it been going on?”
“Since I was ten…”
I was sick….
“Where did you meet him?”
I grew sicker…
“Is he older than you…”
“Do we know his family…”
She answered sheepishly, “…yes…”
“Well just tell us who he is, I promise we won’t make a big deal about it.”
Timaya began to cry again. She shook her head saying she couldn’t. My anger burned against her.
“Are you trying to protect Antony because you don’t want him to go to jail?”
“No…no that’s not what this is…Antony didn’t do anything to me, I promise.” She spoke with sincerity. Finally, some truth.
I paused for a moment. Trying to wrap my mind around the possible fathers, it had to be someone older than her…someone too old to be….
“…. Oh, hell no…” I spoke aloud, looking at my daughter. “IS IT AN…ADULT?!? TIMAYA WERE YOU RAPED?!”
Timaya suddenly couldn’t look at me. She mumbled something under her breath, but she went out of her way to ensure her eyes didn’t connect with mine. That’s when I knew.
“Timaya!” With all the drama surrounding me I hadn’t had a moment to stop and think about this situation sensibly. I hadn’t had time to even pray on it. First Ameya. Then Carmen. Then the attack. Now this? Who has time for reason? Prayer?
Both our girls were stellar; but Timaya was the less rebellious one. The biggest trouble she’s gotten in up to this point is sneak reading when she’s supposed to be asleep. For a child to go from zero to one-hundred on the scale of offenses this quickly, someone had to be influencing and taking advantage of her; but who?
Timaya was either at school, church, home, or at their grandparents. Her work load was so intensive that she didn’t have time for things like sleepovers or playdates; in fact, she spent that time developing her knowledge. Sure, she had her crushes, but as far as I knew Timaya wasn’t interested in boys – she said they were silly and immature.
“Mom…please…just leave it alone. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I heard the front door slam downstairs. Derrick Michael was home. Perfect timing.
“Hurt ME? How?”
“…. aren’t you taking me to get rid of it anyway? Why does it matter?” She continued to stall.
“It matters because you’re twelve and you’re not even supposed to be pregnant, stupid ass!!” Catina’s screamed out the blue. Someone was pissed.
“Catina! Check your mouth!” I interjected.
“You shut up you dyke fag…”
“Timaya!” I didn’t even know she knew words like that!
“….at least this DYKE isn’t twelve and pregnant….”
“…at least I’m not gay!”
“I’d rather be gay than a twelve-year-old THOT!”
“Shut up! At least I’m not going to hell!”
“OH YES YOU WILL BE RIGHT THERE WITH ME FOR HAVING A BABY OUT OF WEDLOCK!”
“GOD WILL FORGIVE ME, BUT HE CAN’T FORGIVE AN ABOMINATION!”
“THAT’S WHY YOUR BABY IS A BASTARD, NOW!”
“SHUT UP!!!!!!” I screamed above their voices, startling them both.
The room fell silent. Catina rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall directly across from Timaya, who was busy wiping the snot from her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.
“You have ten seconds to tell me who it is, Timaya. Or I will contact the police and have them comb through every phone call, text message, instant message, email, Snap, Insta, Tweet, Facebook post, and anything that requires a password – because if you won’t tell me who it is, your privacy will. ONE! TWO! THREE!”
I made it to seven before Timaya finally broke down.
“Okay…OKAYYYY….”, “You have to promise not to do anything to him You have to promise because he loves me and I love him too…”
“What I’m not about to do is sit here and listen to you profess your love this pedophile…”
“Mom, please don’t call him that.”
“That’s exactly what he is, Timaya. A child-raping pervert!”
“He is NOT a pervert!” Timaya screamed,
“Well what exactly would you call him, Timaya? Huh?” I snapped, impatiently.
“DAD, MOM! I CALL HIM DAD!!!!”
“What’s his REAL NAME?” Catina retorted, on my behalf.
“I just told y’all.” Timaya put her head down, tears streaming from her face. She placed her hands atop her belly and leaned in close to whisper a most horrifying truth, “It’s DAD, Mom. DAD is my baby’s dad”.