Page 54 of Lyric Squared

So deep in my thoughts and completely satisfied with the silence around me, I didn’t notice I’d made it to my destination until I saw my aunt and uncle standing next to my truck knocking on the window. I didn’t have to spell it out for them to both know what was on my mind and what I’d just encountered. The weariness in my aunt’s eyes exposed her concerns and the revelation of my truth.

“You’re home!” She smiled, sadly.

“Y’all headed out?”

“Yes. We’re due at Paula’s in thirty minutes, sweetie. Are you okay?”

“I will be.”

“Where’d you see her?”

“24/7.”

“How is she?” my uncle butted in.

“Same shit, different day.”

“Did you at least give her a few dollars to hold her over?”

“Four hundred. Hopefully, she uses it to get a room for a few nights and rest.”

“She will. I’m sure she will.” My aunt sighed, always the optimist.

“Can we have this homecoming tomorrow? Maybe? Please. I’m so sorry that we have to run.”

“Nah,” I assured her, “it’s cool. I wasn’t planning to hold y’all long anyway. Tried to catch y’all before y’all started your weekend.”

“Tomorrow,” my uncle voiced, placing a thumb in the air.

“Tomorrow,” I repeated with a nod of my head.

“I love you, Keanu,” my aunt told me.

“I love you, too. See you tomorrow.”

“If you need us, call us,” she ended with.

“You already know I will.”

I watched as the two made their way to the open garage where their cars were parked. Releasing a thick, heavy stream of oxygen, I pushed the entire gas station ordeal behind me. I wouldn’t allow it to ruin my day. I couldn’t. So, instead of sulking, I dead the engine of my truck and stepped out.

After a few feet, I’d reached the only porch in the neighborhood that was just as familiar to me as mine. Before I could knock on the door, it swung open, and out popped Liam. his lengthy frame mimicked his sons’ and mine, of course. His long arms wrapped around my body as he pulled me closer, forcing my head onto his shoulder with one hand while patting my back with the other.

“Welcome home, son!”

Exuberance was evident in his tone and mannerism. Though I was widely uncomfortable, I relaxed in his arms knowing that within them I was safe. He was as close to home for me as it got. So, if he wanted to hug me until I turned blue in the face then I’d let him have that moment – as long as he released me before I took my final breath.

After I was finally set free, I couldn’t contain the contentment in my bones. The Eisenbergs did that for me. While I loved my aunt and uncle for who they were and how much they loved me, I never felt like I belonged with them. I was a hood nigga in the sheep’s clothing they purchased for me religiously.

It wasn’t until I came across the street that I felt like I’d found my tribe. I didn’t have to watch what I said at the dinner table, hide my true interests in drug lord documentaries and investigations, pull my pants up to my waistline, forget the dialogue I’d learned in Dooley, or be anything other than myself.

“You look good,” he complimented.

“I feel good, Pops.”

“Good. Good. You ran into them knotty-headed boys of mine yet?”

“You know I have.”