Chapter 5 #3
“Yo, you really are coddling him,” Posydiann said as soon as I entered the kitchen. He was sitting on the island in the dark.
“Would coddle you too if needed.” I winked in his direction before going over to the fridge where I assumed the food I’d bought was since the boxes weren’t on the counter.
He chuckled. “Nah, you're too quick to give me shit.”
I shook my head. “You ate?”
“Nah, I just put it up after I moved your car,” he responded somberly.
I stood there and just looked at him. I couldn’t see his expression, but I felt everything about him. His presence was heavy and heartbreaking.
“Can you eat for me? Just a little?”
“Sit out back with me?” he asked.
“Of course.”
I removed the paper plates from the cabinet, placed them on the counter, and made them both a plate.
“You must’ve already eaten.” His voice made me look up from the plate I’d just prepared for him.
“Nah. I just put whatever I’ma eat on your plate.” I smiled.
For the duration of me warming the food, he was quiet and I kept stealing glances. I had never witnessed him this way nor had I ever wanted to. Losing someone wasn’t something you just got over, especially not a family member you were close to.
After I delivered Junior’s plate to him, I carried mine and Psy’s food out back to the patio.
I always told him he had an oasis back here.
He had this massive, brown-stained back porch with dark furniture and so much damn space.
When he wanted privacy, which I knew was a lot, he opened the pergola that enclosed the entire porch.
Right now was one of those moments, because when I stepped out, it was already extended.
“When I was little, I didn’t know anything.
Before Killah’s mom ran off, it was me and Iso.
All we used to do was get into fights and ruckus, no real purpose, just kids causing trouble.
He used to come around a lot, but this was way before he moved in.
Me and Iso had just got down on some fools a few blocks from the house and were gearing up to fight a gang of niggas.
He told our asses to find something to stand for or fall every fucking time while causing senseless commotion.
I didn’t know what he meant until about two years later when BPD killed an innocent mother of four in front of her kids while looking for her baby’s father. ”
I frowned at the thought.
“They cleaned and covered it up well though.”
I leaned forward, my hand landing on his knee. “What do you need from me, Psy?”
He looked up from the blunt he was rolling, eyes locked on me. “You, Syn, just fucking you.”
The seriousness in his eyes had me locked on him.
He didn’t speak anymore, silently rolling the blunt in his own world. Usually I complained about the smell of his weed being in my hair, but tonight I wouldn’t. Tonight I was here in any and every capacity that he needed me.
“What’s fucked up is when I dropped him off at the hospital I asked his old stubborn ass if he needed me to go in with him. He talked his normal shit. ‘Be on time, I ain’t no regular motherfucker.’” He laughed to himself, mimicking his uncle’s voice.
We spent a while on the porch, him rambling through several memories that included his uncle, in a trance like he was in disbelief.
The man he idolized, who had stepped in and raised him in place of his father, was no longer on this plane.
He was hurting and so was Junior. I wished like hell I could take their pain from them, or at least make this easier, but how would that even be possible?
Losing an everyday figure in your life was an unbearable realization.
The next morning when I woke up, Posydiann was still asleep and so was Junior, so I got up and decided to make breakfast. If I couldn’t take the pain away, the least I could do was feed them, right?
I was halfway through the French toast recipe my mother had passed down when I heard footsteps behind me. I smelled and felt his body before he spoke.
“Thought you told me you’d never cook for me in my house?” His chin was in my neck and his hands wrapped around my waist.
“Extenuating circumstances. How’d you sleep?” I hated how much I loved being in his arms, how much peace he gave me. Shouldn’t it have taken more than a couple weeks for my whole sense of self to become so engulfed in what we established we were?
“Good until you got up. What are you in here burning?”
“I’m not burning anything. I’m trying to make you breakfast. Now if you don’t back up, I may burn something.”
“Damn, you really fucking with me like that, huh?” he asked, not moving a bit to give me any of the space I requested.
“You tell me? Does it feel like I really mess with you like that?”
“Feels like you’re in love with me, but I’ma let you keep that secret between you and yourself for now. Right now ain’t the time to be having you tell me you love me.” He kissed the side of my face, then granted me my space.
By then it was definitely too late given he had me flustered as hell. Shit, was it true? Did I love him? How the hell did he know it?