Page 11 of Rayzor: Tell Me It’s Mine II

Maleek was on the phone in his room after dipping on me a little bit ago. We played a few games, ordered in and chilled for the most part. I’ve been in the backyard since.

I tripped over Maleek’s bag.

“Fuck,” I groaned after hitting my toe on something hard inside it. When I picked it up, I knew it wasn’t books, but the pried zipper gave me a peek inside.

I sat down and opened it. My fucking heart stopped when I pulled out a jump rope with weighted handles. After dumping the bag, I sat there staring. The past was staring at me.

“Hey, bro, I’m hung…” he yelled from around the corner but stopped when he saw what was in front of. “Shit,” he cursed.

“What the fuck is this, Maleek?”

He stalked over. “You goin’ through my bag now?”

He reached for the wrap first.

“This my fuckin’ crib, lil’ nigga.”

“It’s my shit, though, Court.”

I rose, standing over him.

“Curse again, mothafucka, and take that fuckin’ bass out your voice.”

He dropped his head. “I ain’t mean it like that. I don’t like people in my business.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that. What you doin’ with this?” I held up the boxing glove. All I could do was picture a younger me doing the same shit. This was a full-circle moment, except Maleek had different circumstances. He didn’t have to choose this.

He collapsed onto the sofa, stuffing his hand in his hoodie. Why the fuck didn’t I notice the hoodie until now?

“I wanna be a boxer like you… and dad.”

That felt like a gut punch. It should’ve been a prideful moment, but for some reason, it didn’t land that way. Maleek’s mentioned wanting to do a lot of different things in life but never boxing.

I took a seat.

His TV’s noise was louder than the silence.

“That’s where that eye came from?”

He shook his head.

“You know I want you to be better than me, right?”

“Bro, I’m so tired of hearing y’all say that. I mean, I don’t see nothing wrong with you.”

“Nah, you’re seeing the end result of a lot of hard work, but you also saw the bad that got me here.”

“So, you’re telling me that is the worst it can get?”

“It can always get worse.”

I ran my hand over my hair.

“But it’s not. I mean, look at you. The world loves you, Court. You got bread, cars, money. That’s not a bad life to live.”

I exhaled. “But I also did time and was homeless. Gotta sneak around to see my brother, mama ain’t fuckin’ with me, Pops is dead. Bread and all that other shit don’t fix that because if it did, then you wouldn’t be lying to be here, and I’d still have both my folks.”

“I’m just tired of everyone trying to plan my life. I can be like you without traveling your path, Court. I don’t care about none of the bad stuff because I know it’s part of life. You made it out. I know it’s not the best situation right now but it’s not going to be like this always. Dad can’t come back, but you still got me, and… Ma, she’ll come around.”