Chapter 7 #3
“There’s nothing to tell here, Stassi. I’m doing what I got to do. That’s it. Lauren isn’t a threat to my relationship. I know where the line is.”
“I couldn’t tell on you if I wanted to. She worships you, Demi!
” Stassi exclaimed in a harsh whisper. “I’m asking you to be man enough to tell her yourself.
If you want to be here and make things right with Lauren, nobody can blame you for that.
We all know what you’re both going through.
Just don’t string Charlie along. She’s young.
She doesn’t have to have that baby. Spare her, Demi.
If you love her like you say you do, you would. ”
“I’m really trying to be patient with you right now.
Off the strength of your sister. But this whole conversation is out of bounds.
This ain’t your place,” Demi stated. “I lost my son. Outside of that, nothing else is up for discussion. If you want to help Bird, make sure she’s not alone.
If you can’t do that, just stay in your lane.
” Demi went to walk off, but one last thought occurred to him.
“Do she even know you’re here?” Stassi was charged, tried, and convicted within seconds.
She was vocal about everything except that, and he recognized the flash of guilt in her eyes before she could form an answer.
“You’re over here begging a nigga to send your sister packing. I ain’t the one Charlie need to be side-eyeing.”
With that, he walked away, making a mental note to keep a watchful eye over Stassi because even he couldn’t tell where her loyalty lay.
Floating through this growing crowd that called themselves family felt inappropriate.
They were Lauren’s people. He hadn’t bothered to call his side of the family.
His parents were gone, and his brothers were distant.
They had never even met DJ, so informing them felt fake, and Demi couldn’t exist in any realm other than real.
Lauren’s mother had put the call out, and people he hadn’t seen in years were walking through the door full of sympathetic salutations and aluminum pans full of food he wouldn’t eat.
He was sure he seemed cold as he stood in the kitchen.
He was the overseer, sipping his drink silently, watching Lauren and no one else.
He spoke, but there were no hugs being accepted.
He didn’t even need the handshakes they offered.
Prayers were appreciated, but he was even weary of accepting those because the hearts of men were flawed.
The wrong person sending prayers up on his behalf could easily be misconstrued as curses.
Perhaps that’s how this had occurred in the first place. Someone had cursed his son.
“She had that fake-ass pastor in this mu’fucka praying over my kid.
Nigga everything but holy,” Demi grumbled to himself.
He was looking to assign blame in a situation that was hard to make sense of.
He was careful where he placed it, however, because he knew Lauren couldn’t hold any more weight.
He suffered through the distant relatives and their fake sympathy for her sake.
They seemed to make things better for Lauren.
The lack of solitude forced her out of bed.
It made her engage in the world. He hoped this kept her mind from venturing too far into the grave behind their son.
He knew the type of devotion Lauren had as a mother, and she would undoubtedly follow DJ straight to heaven if he let her depression have full control.
Her family was needed, no matter how intrusive it felt.
The one person he wanted to walk through the door was unwelcome, so unlike Lauren, no matter how many people showed up, he would suffer regardless.
His only reprieve was in Charliezonia, and he couldn’t get there right now.
It was the consequence he had to live with for starting his relationship with Charlie without honor.
She was his love, but in certain spaces, she was also his biggest indiscretion.
He was trying to lead with respect, and he couldn’t lie and leave out the love he felt for Lauren through this loss, but Lauren’s downright refusal to allow Charlie to be present made his pain intensify.
Not many things could hurt Demitrius Sky, but this one hurt, unlike anything he had ever felt before.
It was such an empty feeling. He couldn’t explain it, and if he couldn’t explain it, he was afraid that he would never be able to heal it.
How could one heal what he didn’t understand?
It was an infection of a different kind, and it was spreading through his soul like a virus, ruining every part of him.
He grabbed the entire bottle of cognac and slipped down the hallway.
Lauren hadn’t changed his office. It was still as it had been when he lived there.
It was almost like he had never left. He was grateful for the escape.
He walked inside and closed the door, sighing heavily in relief as he sat in the executive chair.
He poured himself another drink and then pulled out his phone.
Even her name on his home screen stirred him.
Since the day he had laid eyes on her, she was like a stimulant to his system.
Charlie had texted him. The message, no matter how small, even before reading, was like paddles to his dead heart.
Bird
I can’t reschedule the baby’s appt. They don’t have openings for another few months. I can go alone.
Demi frowned. He wasn’t sure how he was going to balance two worlds at once.
He wanted to be excited with Charlie. He had been elated upon finding out about her pregnancy, but now it felt wrong.
It felt wrong to even hope for this new baby.
It felt inappropriate to even mention life when his son no longer had his.
It felt inconsiderate to even imagine the notion of celebration when he felt like the whole sky was falling.
Demi
When is it again?
Charlie
Tomorrow.
Demi
I’ll be there. Send me the address and the time.
The information came next, and Demi set the reminder in his phone before swallowing a copious amount of brown liquor. It seemed to be the only thing to numb him, and so he poured up again, taking down another glass full.
The fact that it sounded like a growing party outside this room triggered him.
Funerals always became family reunions, but he wasn’t keen on the fact that his son had to die for motherfuckers to give a fuck.
He was also aware that his anger was just a steppingstone on a long mountain of grief.
It was best he stayed out of the way until he could gain more control over his emotions.