Chapter 2 #2
I wanted to address her mood, but I didn’t know how to approach. Shit, I was right back to walking on eggshells.
She took a sip from her glass, glanced at me and said nothing.
With a deep breath, I walked over to the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Don.
Didn’t have to sneak to drink tonight. The shit was warranted.
I was the one who needed a drink, for real since I was the designated driver and didn’t hit the bar once.
After grabbing a glass, I poured a shot, tossed it back, and poured another one before heading back over to the island where she was sitting.
I pulled a barstool out, sat down, and ran my fingers along the rim of the glass, watching her.
She had her head down, scrolling TikTok.
Video after video, she scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, paying no attention to the content.
Something was up. When I heard her scroll by one of those spiritual videos, I knew something was up.
“You good?”
“Hm?” She asked, looking up at me. Briefly. Didn’t even look at me for two seconds.
“I said, you good? You been a little—”
“Don’t start that shit, Ducati,” Mahogany mumbled.
I drew back, shook my head, and let out another deep breath. “I’m just saying, Ne. You been a little off since I got home from work. I’m trying to make sure—”
“Make sure what? That we still ‘locked in’? Yeah, Duke, we’re locked in.
I been busy as hell all day. I’m tired. That’s all.
Please don’t start overthinking. You were on edge this morning, too.
Do I have to keep giving you reassurance?
Or are we going to get through this without me having to always be okay with a smile on my face? ”
That was the most she’d said to me all fuckin’ night.
“My bad. Maybe I am in my head.”
She nodded. “Maybe you are. I’m just tired, babe. That’s it. Can I be drained without you thinking something else? Can I joke with you without you taking me seriously?”
I had been on fuck shit all day. This morning, when she mentioned the bank statements, I did snap a little.
And all day, I had been worried about her actually checking them.
Maybe I was in my head. Had to be. If she had checked them, the conversation would’ve gone in a completely different direction.
Shaking my head, I picked my glass up and finished my shot.
I needed to get my shit together. The guilt I was wearing was weighing me down.
I was paranoid as hell and for no reason because my wife, was still my wife and we were steady trying.
It was the secret driving me crazy, making me think she was cold.
Making me think she knew something she clearly did not know.
"My bad, baby. Shit,” I said, apologetically.
She stared at me for a couple of seconds, gave a soft smile, nodded, and finished her drink off. “I’m tired. I’m about to call it a night.”
After sitting her glass down, she walked off but before she could walk by me, I wrapped my arm around her waist, stopping her. She tensed up. I leaned my head over to the side a little and asked, “See? What’s that?”
“A need for patience. We talked about that. You want me to stay locked in—I need you to give me patience.”
“Come here,” I said, with my eyes on her lips.
“Duke—“
“I fucked up. I’m fuckin’ up. I know. I can’t get a kiss good night, though?”
I watched her jaws as she clenched. With a deep breath, she leaned forward and gave me lips I wanted to kiss all night.
“I sholl hope you know what you doin, boy,” said ma, sitting beside me, shaking her head. “Got me tied up in this mess. I could barely look at that damn girl at the party, knowing what I know.”
The next day, I was with my ma, and we were on our way to Ms. Rochelle’s.
I looked over at her. “I know what I’m doing. I’ll tell Mahogany when I feel like the time is right.”
“The time will never be right. Just make sure you leave me out of it when you do. Don’t need the girl hating me more than she already do.”
“Mahogany don’t hate you.”
“Mmhmm. Yes she do. Nasty ass attitude. She was dry and distant all night. Drank like a fish, too. You sho’ y’all good? You sure she don’t know?”
I glanced at her again and writhed the steering wheel, hating I had to drag her into this with me. I fucked with my momma. I mean, I fucked with her heavy, but when she knew something she wasn’t supposed to know, she was annoying as hell.
“Yeah I’m sure,” I said, shifting around in my seat. “She was under a lot of pressure.”
“I’m sure she was. She gon be under a lot mo’ once she find out.” She shook her head. “Just ridiculous.”
Ma sat there going on and on about the way I was handling the situation up until we pulled up.
I didn’t say shit—just let her ramble. There was no need for me to speak up anyway.
When ma had her mind set on something, it was set and according to her, I was fucking up royally.
I mean, hell… I knew that. Didn’t want to sit up and listen to it though.
“Aight, look ma. Ms. Rochelle is old school Christian and—“
“I don’t need you giving out no disclaimer, Ducati,” She interrupted, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Just don’t get in there actin’ crazy,” I joked. “Act like you got some sense, woman.”
My momma looked over at me with her lips twisted up. Sucking her teeth she said, “Boy please.”
I laughed. “Nah, I’m for real ma.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and killed the engine to the car. “Ms. Rochelle is a nice old lady. She don’t curse for real or none of that.”
“I know how to act, nigga. I don’t need you giving me no pep talk.”
Yes she did.
The last time we did something remotely close to this was when she dragged me over to Mahogany’s house to tell her people she was pregnant.
She walked in Ms. Eve and them house acting a damn fool.
Didn’t take her shoes off at the door, was cursing, rolling her eyes and her neck when she talked.
Shit almost went left. Well, it did. It damn near went far-far left.
Ma and Eve didn’t get into a fight, but Reg did have to ask us to leave.
Moms always preached having home training when I was growing up but she carried herself like she didn’t have any.
“What’s her name again?” Ma asked, as we walked up the stairs.
“Ms. Ro—“
She waved me off. “Not her ass… my grand baby. The little girl.”
Little girl.
That’s what she’d been calling her since I told her about Diary.
“Diary.”
“Mmmh. What a name, what a name. That momma ain’t shit.”
I tossed my head back a little. “Come on now ma.”
“Don’t tell me to come on nothin. She ain’t shit. She should’ve told you. Keepin secrets, naming that little girl Diary. Ain’t worth a damn.”
She said the same thing the first time I told her Diary’s name.
She didn’t like Erika. Wasn’t that shit crazy though?
Not liking a dead woman. I mean, shit, I had my feelings toward her, but it was what it was.
Hating her and bad mouthing her would do nothing to fix the situation I was in, so I was just rocking.
Any time she would say something off the wall about E I would check her about it though.
I disrespected E a few times yeah, but that shit was done inwardly.
I’d never come out of my mouth and talk ill of her.
She was dead and this shit I was in? It was my fault.
I’d been spotty as hell with the accountability but the reality of it was that if I hadn’t fucked shorty raw, none of this would have happened.
I was just glad to have a solution. Did I still plan on telling Mahogany what was going on?
Of course. I had to. Felt like God wouldn’t let me take this shit to my grave if I tried to anyway.
Trying was useless. There was no way around it.
A nigga was just waiting for the right pocket in time to do so.
Today wasn’t it. Tomorrow wouldn’t be neither.
Hell, the day after that wouldn’t be neither.
I was just… waiting. And in the meantime, building not only courage but a real relationship with my seed.
I knocked on the door and a couple of minutes later, Ms. Rochelle opened up, holding her cardigan close.
She looked tired. Weary. Drained. Over it.
And a nigga felt guilty as hell. I knew she was sick.
Knew she was tired of chasing a kid around all day too, but I took my time doing this shit.
Might’ve been a little selfish but I had shit going on and Diary coming into my life couldn’t just interrupt the flow of it. That was why I had moms.
“Hey Ms. Rochelle.”
“Duke,” she flatly responded, holding the door open for us.
“How you doin, miss,” spoke my momma once we were inside.
“I’m doin alright,” Ms. Rochelle said, looking over her shoulder, leading us into the house.
I was happy as hell to see that it was just her and not the other two niggas.
The other day when we talked about meeting up today, I told her I’d rather not deal with them if I really didn’t have to.
She understood since me and the bitch nigga Justin had a few words.
She did say Justin would like to stay in Diary’s life.
And because I wasn’t a ho ass nigga, I didn’t protest. I understood.
With so much changing in Diary’s life, she needed something to stay consistent.
I just wouldn’t be dealing with the nigga.
Them type of transactions would have to be made through Ms. Rochelle, over the weekend.
“You ain’t tell me she was old as hell,” whispered my ma as we continued into the living room.
I nudged her a little and shook my head. Her voice was low, so I was sure Ms. Rochelle in her old age didn’t hear her but still. It was disrespectful.
“Ms. Rochelle, this is my momma Adena. Remember I said she’d be helping me out with Diary?” Pausing, I nodded. “Ma, Ms. Rochelle, Diary’s grand—other grandmother, Ms Rochelle.”
They shook hands and I looked towards the back of the house. “She up?”