Epilogue
I’m so fuckin’ high.
But this is when I write best. I’m back in the studio, and weed brings out my creativity.
I got my headphones on and my pen in my hand, scribbling lyrics that reflect where I am in my life right now. The crash, the island, survival, and aftermath are all a part of the narrative thread moving through my new album.
Me falling in love, growing up, and having the life I always wanted is the overall theme.
It’s anybody’s guess if it’s gonna be well-received or not.
Sometimes niggas don’t like to see you happy.
To this day, people want Mary J Blige to be depressed again so they can get another My Life.
But whatever happens, I’m telling my story in my own words, and fuck what anybody thinks about that shit.
Ain’t like I’m hurting for money. I was already straight, but after we settled with the search and rescue company, and Tiana bankrupted them bitches like she said she would, I ain’t gotta put out another album in my life if I don’t want to.
I step out of the studio and head upstairs to shower. I’ve been living in the Atlanta house since the baby came. I bought it and figured I might as well build a studio in the basement so I don’t have to be far away from my babies when I’m working.
I jump in the shower real quick, making sure I’m squeaky clean. Can’t be sitting around the baby smelling like dank. After, I throw on some sweatpants and head to the place where life happens. Where my family is.
Ari’s on the couch breastfeeding Isla—we both loved that name—and JR is outside splashing in the pool with Ashara and the girls while Celeste, our new photographer, takes candids. Their laughter drifts in as I make my way to the couch, but a text stops me in my tracks.
Raymond Newcastle
Hey, son. Hope your doing good. I got a situation I could use your help with if you can
I read it over and over again. Me and Dr. Souza were just talking about this shit. She said some people aren’t meant to walk with you into the next season of your life. So, instead of thinking and worrying about his ass, I’ma just do the hard thing and block my sperm donor. No hesitation.
I put my phone back in my pocket and sit next to my angel, leaning down to kiss her temple. “How you feelin’?”
She looks up at me with a smile. “Good.”
"Celeste been okay?"
She nods.
It was a hard sell, honestly. Ari didn't see the need to have a stranger hanging around just to snap pictures of us.
I explained it to her as best I could; we hire professionals to capture our special moments so that we can stay present in the moment and live them.
Most celebrities do. And at the end of it all, you have archives of parts of your life you wanna relive, and you can pass them to your children, who pass them to their children, and on and on.
Or, you become part of history.
I gave Kiara's camera to her kids, and they were able to sell the pictures from the day of the crash to Time magazine. They're doing a whole feature on the tragedy, and every single passenger is getting a profile. I saw the layout for it, and it's beautiful. It really honors everybody's memory.
“You ready for tonight?” I ask.
“I am.”
I stare at the four-carat princess cut diamond on her hand and get chills. This woman is about to be my fucking wife. That’s insane.
“By the way, your push present is done.”
“Aww, baby. You’re so good to me.”
“You say that like you didn’t cuss me out.”
My angel had me by the fuckin’ balls after she gave birth with no drugs on the side of I-20. I had already planned to give her the world, but after she did that, she wasn’t shy about asking for it.
What she wanted most was a second home in Tally that’s near her parents, so I bought her the land and she met with the architects and designed it the way she wanted.
“Whenever you feel up to it, the decorator is ready to meet.”
She nods. "By the way, the NTSB investigation is done."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Tiana texted me. Apparently, the Palace in the Sky was style over substance. Echelon spent all that money making it look pretty, but they slacked on maintenance."
"So what caused it?"
"They're saying it was a faulty pressure valve. Domino effect, I guess."
"Fuck. So it was preventable."
"That's what T said."
"T is ready for the lawsuit," I say, shaking my head in amusement. "But if the families wanna sue, I'm definitely down."
"Same," she says. "There's no excuse. They need to be held accountable." She shifts, gently pulling a sleeping Isla off her breast. “FYI, your baby is drinking up all the milk.”
I stare down at our beautiful baby and inhale the milky baby smell. “Damn, she knocked out.”
“Milk drunk,” Ari laughs. “Just like you last night.”
I shrug. “That’s my stress relief. Don’t judge.”
“I would never judge,” she says. “You know I love you. You get whatever you want.”
I lean up to kiss her lips. “And you know I feel the same."
She stares at me, her eyes searching mine, her lips curved up ever so slightly like she’s holding onto her smile.
“I love the way you love me,” she says softly. “Do you remember when I told you about men not being genuine with me and not really getting to know me?”
I nod. I remember every word she ever said to me on that island.
“You’re the first man to…” she trails off as her voice cracks, fanning her face like that’s gonna stop the tears. “You’re the first man to love me the way I want to be loved,” she manages to say. “I didn’t know that kind of love existed until you.”
I cup her chin in my hand, smiling at her pretty face. “Neither did I. Until you.”
Later that evening, our backyard is alive with joy. It’s a small wedding. Intimate is what Ari called it. And it’s perfect. Pastor Barker, my aunt and uncle’s pastor, officiates for us. We exchange our vows, make promises, shed tears.
Now, we’re officially husband and wife.
The next day, we set off on our honeymoon. Me, Ari, Isla, JR, our nannies, and Celeste board a yacht and set sail. We’re doing three weeks around the Caribbean before reaching our final destination. We know the name of it now, but we still just call it what it is.
Our island.
One last visit. One last time to close that chapter. To say the goodbye we didn’t get to say last year. But for now, it’s just good times on this giant boat. Drinking. Slow dancing. Making love.
When I look at my wife and kids, I feel a calm I’ve never felt before. I feel older and settled like my uncle. Like Benny. Like Mr. Williams. I feel like a man.
As the yacht cuts through the turquoise water, I thank God for the past. As horrible as it was, it led me to this, and I’ll always be grateful.