Session 33

Chapter sixty five

My knee wouldn’t stop shaking under the kitchen table as I sat, watching the front door, hand on my pistol, while the movers hauled in Angel’s things. I told her she was moving in with me until Rico Suave got over whatever the fuck he was going through. He’d been calling and showing up at her house every day for a little better than a week, even after the ass-whooping. His old ass was limping around to harass people—that let me know something was seriously wrong with him.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how this wasn’t the way I imagined us living together. I thought it would be under different circumstances, not because some old man couldn’t keep his hands to himself. This shit was awkward because, even though we’d been together, she’d never even seen the whole house. Now, she was about to be living in it. It didn’t feel haunted by my parents anymore, not since Ekon was born, but still... this wasn’t how I pictured things.

Ekon was upstairs, sleeping in his room. I liked that none of the drama going on had touched him. I would’ve had to kill Solomon if he’d laid a hand on my child.

I glanced over at Angel, sitting across from me, arms wrapped tight around herself like she was physically holding herself together. She’d told me her daddy had a temper, but he never hit her or her mom. This abuse situation had her reeling, and I didn’t know how to help.

She was talking when I finally zoned back in, catching her mid-sentence:

“I should’ve known something was off,” she muttered, eyes glued to the boxes scattered around the room. “He was always trying to control everything—what I wore, who I talked to. I thought he cared, but... I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to believe he did. Now I have to resort to doing this...”

Hearing her talk about him irked the fuck out of me. It made me angrier than I’d been the night he hit her. I was fucking livid, but I didn’t show it. Not to her. I couldn’t add to her worry. She was scared enough as it was. What good was my rage gonna do? I kept it together, nodding, listening. When she finally stopped talking and just stared at the wall, I got up, left her sitting there, and helped finish getting her stuff inside.

“I’ll be back. You should get some rest,” I told her after setting the security system and alerting the guard I’d hired. She didn’t say anything, just gave me a small nod. She was running on fumes—her eyes barely able to focus, her shoulders slumped. I wanted to do or say something to make it better instantly, but I knew it would take time. I had to get out of there for a minute, clear my head. Because inside, I was ready to explode.

Every part of me wanted to slip back into those old habits. A drink, a blunt. I wanted to fuck until I couldn’t think straight anymore. All the shit I used to do to numb myself. But I couldn’t. Not after everything I’d worked for. Before, I thought being a man meant being hard, meant pushing the pain down until I didn’t feel it anymore. But I’d learned it was the opposite—sometimes, you had to let yourself feel and talk about it.

I thought about calling my therapist, but he was probably tired of my ass. I backed out of my driveway and drove straight to an anger management meeting. They had one on the hour every day until ten PM at a community center not too far from my house. I’d been a few times. I hadn’t spoken yet, but it seemed like a place I could get some of this shit off my chest without being judged too badly. But fuck, it felt like all I did was talk these days.

Walking into the meeting felt like stepping into a room full of people who had nothing in common with me, even though we all did. The chairs were set up in a circle, too damn close together for my liking. Eyes turned to me as I walked in.

I wasn’t used to that. I didn’t like being the center of attention in places like this. The first time I came, I told myself I wasn’t like these people—I had control. I wasn’t angry all the time. But then I heard a few of them speak, and I realized I was exactly like them.

I took an empty seat in that circle, next to a blonde who looked like she was ready to explode. When the group leader asked if anyone wanted to speak, I immediately spoke up. He nodded for me to go.

“I feel like I’ve been doing nothing but talking lately,” I said, the words coming out rough. “I got a therapist. I’m in AA, NA, and now anger management. I’m fucked up, so it’s obvious I’m battling a lot of demons. I came here today instead of doing something stupid, and I’m proud of myself for that. But what I ain’t proud of is the anger I feel toward my son’s mother.”I ran my hand through my hair as I tried to gather my thoughts before continuing.

“She got herself in a little entanglement with this old motherfucker who tried to beat her ass. And I know none of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t gotten with him to spite me. She latched onto him quick, like she needed to prove something. She was trying to show me she could move on, trying to act like she was good without me. I could see it in the empty-ass smile she gave him, like she was forcing herself to be happy.”

I knew what I was saying was fucked up, but I had to get it out.

“She didn’t give herself time to heal from what I did,” I continued, my voice tight with anger. “And I get that. That’s on me. I fucked up. But him? That’s on her. She knew I hated dude from first sight. Told her to stay away from him.”

I explained everything that happened between us. Twenty minutes later, I finished.

The room was quiet for a second before Lisa, one of the Black women in the group, chimed in. “You ever think maybe she got with him because she was trying to fill the space you left when you hurt her, and not to spite you?” she asked. “When someone breaks your trust, you don’t always make the best choices. Sometimes, we settle for less just to feel something.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” I replied.

Before I could put my thoughts into words, Derrick, a guy in the group, leaned forward. “Man, you sound like you’re just mad ‘cause she moved on. You fucked up, but now you’re pissed someone else stepped in. He shouldn’t have laid his hands on her, but you can’t complain about why she was with him or about her being with him when you were the one who did her dirty too.”

I narrowed my eyes in his direction but bit my tongue and simply nodded. He was halfway right, though. I leaned back, rubbing my hands together. I wasn’t mad because Angel had moved on—I was mad because she’d moved on to someone who didn’t deserve her. After the group saw that I wasn’t going to respond, they moved on. I stayed the entire hour out of respect. What would it look like, me dumping my shit on other people and then bouncing?

The next person to speak was Tamara.

“I used to beat my boys,” she admitted, eyes fixed on the floor. “Not because they did anything, but ‘cause they looked like him. Every time I saw their faces, it was like looking at their daddy, and I’d just snap. I was so mad at him, and they were just... there, you know? Easy targets. Now they live with him. They don’t even wanna see me no more, and I can’t blame them. I did that. I pushed them away. And now all I got is this anger and nobody to take it out on but myself.”

I sat there, listening to Tamara’s story, thinking how fucked up that was. I couldn’t imagine putting my hands on Ekon like that, no matter how angry I got. I’d hurt myself before I’d ever hurt him. It’s fucked up, but listening to her made me feel better about my situation.

After Tamara, the group leader called time, and everyone started getting up. I nodded at a few people, but I was done talking for the night.

I drove toward home—not to the strip club or bar like I wanted. I pulled into the driveway. Inside, the house was quiet despite it being a little after eight PM. I headed upstairs to check on Ekon, finding him asleep.

Then I checked in on Angel. She was in the guest room, lying on top of the covers, finally resting, wearing just one of my t-shirts. Her panties peeked from the hem. I stood there for a second, watching her, realizing that this—her being here, Ekon being safe in the next room—this was how it was supposed to be from the start. No bullshit. No Solomon. Just us.

I took a long shower, letting the water wash over me. My mind drifted to Angel, the way she looked. How soft her skin was, the feel of her plush thighs wrapped around me. One hand against the shower wall, I grabbed my dick and pumped it from root to tip, remembering how she used to feel. How she sounded moaning my name. Her pussy used to get so wet for me. I imagined her plump ass pressing against me as she fucked me back, and before I knew it, I was nutting all over my hand.

It was quick. Unfulfilling. Just something to take the edge off. But it didn’t help—not really. Celibacy was going to be the death of me, especially with Angel under the same roof.

Afterward, I pulled on some sweatpants and wiped the steam off the mirror, catching my reflection. I stared at myself for a long moment. There was something different in my eyes. Growth, maybe? Regret? Hell if I knew. I just wondered if anybody else could see it too.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I found myself standing outside Angel’s door. My hand hovered over the knob, hesitating for a moment, questioning whether I should go in. But the pull was too strong, and before I could talk myself out of it, I turned the knob and eased the door open quietly.

The room was dark, but I could see her lying on top of the covers, her back to me. She didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but I could tell she wasn’t asleep. I tiptoed across the room and slid into the bed beside her, careful not to disturb the space she’d created for herself.

I slipped under the covers, leaving just enough distance between us to respect the boundaries she hadn’t spoken aloud. She didn’t acknowledge me, but she didn’t tell me to leave either.

Neither of us spoke. We just lay there, side by side, breathing the same air, letting the silence fill the room. It wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt... necessary. Like we both needed quiet.