Page 12 of Rayzor: Tell Me It’s Mine II

I heard him, understood that shit, but sometimes the days grow, and the pain still shows. The emptiness, answers that I always sought, gets further out of reach, but I gotta keep pushing, taking L’s on the chin and creating my own narratives. I’ve had to live with this variation of life to make shit work with me. It doesn’t make it easier, but it’s tolerable.

“It’s more options out there, bro. Choose something else.”

He sat up.

“Can I go back to my room now?”

I dropped my head onto my folded hands as I massaged my temples.

“Nah, gon’ pack this up. I’m taking you to the crib.”

“Why? I thought I was staying the night.”

“I got an early day.”

He jumped up and started roughly throwing his shit into the bag. “Oh, so now you got an early day after finding out what I’m doing. This some bullshit,” he mumbled under his breath before storming out the living room.

I collapsed back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how he was following my path. It never dawned on me that it’s a possibility. I didn’t want him turning out like me. He couldn’t see it, but this lifestyle wasn’t given to me. Shit, it was chosen.

Maleek sat in silence with headphones on the drive back. I wasn’t pressed for conversation because I knew that after tonight, he’ll go quiet on me. I’d let him come around.

When I pulled into the driveway, his ass barely let the car come to a stop before hopping out and taking off inside. I stayed in the truck, watching him through the rearview. He didn’t even look back at me as he slammed the front door.

He reminded me so much of myself as a jit when I got upset.

I got out the truck, walking into the house behind him.

The metal door creaked as I pushed it open. The smell of lemon Pine-Sol and lavender Fabuloso perforated through the air, reminding me of childhood. The days where Ma would scrub the floors and walls until the spot was clean.

“Get out,” he told me.

The house still looked the same. Like a time capsule with modern upgrades. Plush couches, pictures along the walls, a TV stand, sheer curtains, wooden blinds. I stepped back into time. It was bittersweet.

“Take yo’ ass to bed.”

I stepped in front of the pictures of my Pops from back in the day. It captured his youth, afro, at a cookout wearing a big smile with a beer in his hand. It was one of Ma’s favorites of him.

“You ain’t supposed to be in here,” Maleek told me.

“I’m making sure yo’ ass ain’t trying to dip out since you got a secret life and shit.”

He smacked his teeth and rushed off to the back of the house.

I stepped slowly, taking in the space I used to live in. Hadn’t been inside since seventeen. It’s crazy how you could be removed from something, but it always felt like home even if you weren’t always welcomed.

I stood in front of my folks’ wedding picture. I was there, three, maybe four, in a small tux. My parents both had smiles on their faces. Ma had her bouquet in one hand and me in the other. Pops had his arm around her. We looked like the perfect family.

That’s when I noticed that all my pictures had been replaced with ones of Maleek. That shit did something to me. She removed me figuratively and physically. She hated me. Her son she birthed. At one time, we were the best of friends.

She made me a memory.

“Why are you in my house?” her voice echoed through the living room.

“This used to be our house, remember that shit, Ma?”

“Yeah, well, that’s been a long time since.”

I nodded.