Free Keep It Movin' by L. Divine

eating constantly didn’t help either.
    â€œLook outside.” I walk over to the back door and notice a silver Nissan Sentra parked in the garage that looks just like the one I drove for my driving lessons. I know he didn’t buy me this bucket after I told him I hated it. What the hell? My daddy signals me to come outside and join him.
    â€œMerry Christmas, baby. I bought the car, now you take care of the rest,” my daddy says with half the family behind him gawking.
    â€œI don’t know what to say.” And it’s true, I don’t. I feel like crying, I’m so pissed he didn’t listen to me. But I also know I should be grateful to have a ride, no matter how much I may hate it.
    â€œHow about thank you,” my auntie says, puffing on her cigarette. Nia looks at me, envious of the attention I’m getting. The only reason she doesn’t have a car is because she doesn’t want to learn how to drive for some reason. Nellie’s the same way, happy to have people chauffeur her black ass all around town. Not me. I’d rather have my own wheels any day. Well, not these wheels, but they’ll have to do for now.
    â€œHere are the keys. Why don’t you get in and check it out,” my father says, passing me the two silver keys and egging me on toward the raggedy vehicle. The hubcaps are missing and so is the radio, just like in my mom’s ride. It smells like ass because so many people have sat in it and even though I’m not a mechanic, I know this car needs some serious work. Rah and Nigel could probably handle it, but still. How could he put his baby girl in this godforsaken ride?
    â€œI already know what it looks like. I spent two weeks driving it, remember?” He dangles the keys in front of me, waiting for me to take them. I want to leave him hanging and go back in the kitchen to eat, but if I do I know I’ll never hear the end of it.
    â€œYes, I remember. That’s why I thought it would be a good first car for you because you’re already used to it. Don’t you like it?” Now, I would normally take this opportunity to tell him just what I think but I already know how they feel around here about voicing your true feelings. My aunt Sandy was my secret Santa about ten years ago and bought me the ugliest Cabbage Patch suit I’d ever seen. When she asked me what I thought about the gift, I said I didn’t like it and my father put me on punishment for the rest of the weekend. That was also the last year they had a secret Santa drawing in this family, or at least that I know of.
    â€œI love it, Daddy. Thank you,” I say, lying to his and everyone else’s face. My daddy beams with pride and hugs me tight, like he does when I’m agreeable. I feel like I’m the one giving him the gift. I told him I hated this car and he still bought it. Why doesn’t he listen to me? My aunties and the rest of the family are busy giving my daddy props for being such a great father and he’s loving it. Am I the only one who sees the problem with this picture?
    â€œI do, baby,” my mom says, invading my head right on time. Her voice will keep me calm. “ Girl, your daddy does what he wants to, damn your wishes. Don’t you get that by now?” I know my mom’s right, but I refuse to think about that right now. I have to save face in front of his family and I can’t hear her say “I told you so” while trying to do it.
    â€œYou sure are a good daddy, little brother,” my aunt says, shooting me an evil look. “You should be grateful, little girl. Everybody doesn’t have a daddy like this one.” She sips on her drink and holds herself up on her son’s shoulder, trying to hide her drunken state. She’s such a hater but I don’t care. My feelings are valid, no matter what these folks think. They don’t have to risk their lives driving this hideous thing.
    â€œAlright,