Daddy

“I’ll be back, Padre!” I stated to my father, Mark, in an Arnold Schwarzenegger’s “Terminator” voice as I left his auto repair shop to go on a run for parts. It was a beautiful fall day, and it seemed as if nothing could really go wrong. I got into Dad’s blue Jimmy with my puppy, Angel, and headed out. My destination was approximately thirty minutes away, so I enjoyed my paid break from the office with the music blasting and the wind blowing in my hair.

            “Who the fuck is this? O.M.G.! Why are these people in my way?” I questioned myself upon returning to the shop as if I would get an accurate answer. There were about five newer model GM cars parked in front of the shop and in the allies. Mike, a mechanic, and a customer stood on the side of the street opposite to the shop talking. Naturally, I thought nothing of any of the awkwardness. I left the truck parked in the middle of the street, and my dog and I got out. With the intake gaskets in my hand, I walked slowly toward Mike, savoring the free time away from the office.

“Whose cars are those in my way?”

“The cops are in there with your dad.”

“Oh my God! Why? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Some guy in an explorer asked me to check out his radio, and it was fine. And then the next thing you know all these cops came swarming in.”

            My mouth dropped, and my heart raced. I felt my adrenaline rushing, and inside of me was a tornado of fear, anxiety, concern, and disbelief. I didn’t know what to think, and I never realized how important my dad was to me. Finally, I worked up the nerve to approach one of the investigators and inquire about the situation. “This doesn’t involve you. Did you know that your father has been selling drugs?” I was left speechless with difficulty of trying to register the arrogance and unkindness put forth in so little words. Then I knew what was going on. “Damn! This mother fucker done got his ass caught the fuck up. Ain’t that some shit? Damn! Damn! Damn!” was all I could think to myself. He was getting busted for selling ecstasy. Awkwardly, I understood he was only selling drugs to help keep the shop running so everyone could have jobs. It wasn’t about him or greed; it was about helping others have a better quality of life. Because of his selflessness, I accepted it with compassion and understanding. It was all with good intention, but that didn’t matter anymore.

            Suddenly, huge trucks pulled onto the street, and in came SWAT and additional detectives from different departments. The arriving detectives took my dad in a room and beat his ass; newly arriving detectives searched the shop for drugs and checked VINs on all of the cars. A detective politely approached me and asked me if I was familiar with my dad’s dog. They needed me to get him out of my dad’s house (which was located was just across the ally on the opposite side of the street) so they didn’t have to kill him. Then, the house raid began.

            As I walked back to toward the shop, I saw a few familiar faces. It was a group of county cops that were regulars at the restaurant I used to work at. Ironically, we shared our greetings and hugs and parted ways. After hours of investigation, they were pissed to have found nothing which gave me positive hopes. Then, I looked up, and my daddy walked out handcuffed and being put into the back of a squad car, and the cops had all of the shop’s money. My every hope and dream was suddenly shattered, and I felt like a lost child. It was the end of my world, and I didn’t think there was a thing I could do to change anything. I didn’t know how to function without him; this made me realize he was my “everything”.

            It was up to me to keep the shop running, and I planned on doing so faithfully. The shop was as disastrous as a tornado after the raid. Everything I worked so hard to fix, file, and organize for so long (fixing my cousin’s mistakes who was the old secretary) was almost instantaneously destroyed. Boxes and files were equivalent to the ground. Within 48 hours, my father was released from being held on probable cause. The burden and hurt was lifted from me, until three days later when one of the mechanics brought it to my attention that we had another unfortunate visitor out front. I rushed outside to see what was going on, and again, I became a lost child at the sight of my daddy being handcuffed. I thought everything was over and done with, and here they came breaking my heart all over again. In my eyes, my daddy was always a saint. They told me his bond was $12,000, and he was being charged with four counts of dealing a controlled substance which were B felonies. I took all his belongings from his person before they escorted him to the back seat of the well-known “bitch-mobile.” I thought I was stabbed in the heart, and I was left breathless and hopeless. I had never seen that much money in my life, and never thought I would. The love for and expectations of my father was my motivation for everything good to come in my life, and that same love put it in my heart and my mind that I was going to try as hard as I could to get the money even though the goal seemed completely impossible.

            Although I felt mostly dead, I got up in the morning earlier than usual and went to the shop to create a daily plan. I tried to motivate the employees to have greater productivity and help in every which way possible. I called customer after customer to see if they needed any work done, wanted to buy any of the shop equipment, or buy any cars on the lot. Our lot was filled with inoperative cars, and more than half of them were unclaimed for years, so the “sitters” were put up for sale along with assets. Amazingly, the response from others was great; no one could believe I was doing so much and trying so hard because I loved my daddy. The phone calls paid off; more customers were bringing in cars to get worked on. Fleet account representatives came to purchase two lifts and the tow truck for dirt cheap. Two running cars were sold for only $1500 to another fleet customer. Then, I started calling people that would buy junk cars without titles to compare offerings, and I scheduled for them to come out the next day to see what was available.

            The following day, I woke up earlier than usual, and I was feeling determined more than I had ever in my life. I went to the shop and started making phone calls to everyone I could think of that might make a difference. I confirmed my appointments, called someone in to buy scrap, and scheduled to meet his lawyer the following day. For a moment, I sat at my desk and stared feeling empty, lost, and confused, like there was nothing in the entire world anymore. Shortly after, a few guys from other companies came to look at the cars I was offering. Comically, in my eyes, it was like an auction between them going back and forth about prices fighting over cars. It was blessing that between them a total of eighteen cars were gone. Then, a man came to buy all the scrap which was a few more hundred dollars added to my total. Still short, I went to the neighboring shop and spoke to the owner, Ray, and he loaned me $1800 because he knew that my dad was a good man. At the end of the day, I deposited the money in the bank and still felt like I had nothing even though it was more money than I’ve ever had in my possession in my life.

            The following day, I woke feeling slightly at ease which was extremely ironic because of the situation. My dad had court that morning, so I went to the jail house. The anxiety that came upon me was great, but when my dad walked out, all I could do was smile like I was giving him sunshine to last a lifetime. It was just his initial hearing, so nothing significant occurred. After leaving, I went to the shop to check on the guys and see how things were going. I called my grandma that I had not spoken to in years on my dad’s behalf, and it felt awkward. My heart filled with guilt after asking for money because the lack of contact that I blamed my father for. My brother’s friend, Dre, went with me to Skokie to get $2000, and even though the visit was short and awkward, it was enjoyed by everyone. Then, finally, it was like a glorious triumph; I made $13,000 within a week. “I did it!” I thought over and over again smiling with great radiance. As quickly as possible, I went to the lawyer’s office to see what he had to say; I was eerie about giving him money, thinking he couldn’t get my dad out immediately like bonding him out would. I was assured that he was able to get his bond reduced to $5000, and if I gave him $7000 we could get my daddy out by the morning.

I cared for my brother and my mother and managed to keep business steady. I thought I would never be able to make it. I felt like I wasn’t doing enough, but somehow, I was doing much more than I thought. I couldn’t even comprehend all that I was doing until after the fact. It felt so good to have accomplished so much in so little time under so much pressure all because my father meant so much to me and I thought so highly of him.

The next morning, I went to the shop, excited, but still not knowing what to think or how to react to anything. Then, I got a phone call:

“Ay, where you at?”

“Oh my God! It’s a miracle. You’re out!”

“So are you gonna come and get me or what?”

“Yah, I’ll be there in a little bit.”

“Ok. I’ll be walking down Cleveland ‘cause I don’t wanna be near this place.”

There were so many feelings and thoughts rushing at once to the point that I couldn’t fully comprehend anything. I immediately rushed to my father’s rescue. When I saw him, it was like seeing him for the first time in a long time, and even though I was coming to his rescue, he rescued me. He looked so funny, and all I could do was laugh and cheese. Never had I seen before his facial hair, especially not gray. It was the most humorous attribute to my day. His jail stories were comical too; I never imagined my dad stealing anything, particularly not a Twinkie. He didn’t want anyone to know he was out yet, so he went to my house as his safe haven.

            I never thought I could accomplish anything so intense in my life. I concluded that it’s true when they say “Love is the best motivation.” Daddy’s little girl accomplished the unthinkable and was promoted to co-owner of his business. This obstacle made me realize that I am much stronger than I expected. My internal outcome was like the watering of a seed provided with sunshine; I grew mentally in multiple aspects.