43. Kayori
Chapter Forty-Three
KAYORI
It was nearing two o’clock in the morning, and I was furious.
Matthew and Mattea were both sleeping well.
I sent Praise about five text messages and called his ass about three times.
When I texted him and asked him where the hell his ass was at, he sent a one-word text at twelve saying he was out.
That threw my nerves in overdrive. I started reciting lines on what I was gon’ say to him once he walked through the door.
Today was a big, yet sad, day for me. It was my mom’s birthday, and I wanted to take the kids with me to her and Malcolm's grave site. Out of all the days and nights he decided to be out and about, this was the night I needed him. Usually, on this day, I was consumed with hurt and anger, thinking about all the what-ifs. I didn’t feel too sad because my house was full of people I loved.
I just needed Praise to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay.
I stood up from the bed and checked on the baby.
He laid there, sucking his pacifier, sound asleep.
Walking to the second bedroom that I used as my office, Praise bought a bed for Mattea, and she too was sound asleep.
She slept super wild. Her covers were off her.
Pulling the covers back on her, I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then took a seat in my living room to wait up for Praise.
Another hour went by when I finally heard him putting the keys in the door.
He limped inside and looked me right in the eyes.
My heart slammed in my chest when I noticed his eyes were bloodshot red.
The only thing that shined bright was his big gray eyes.
A look of defeat crossed his face as he looked down at the floor and then back at me.
I stood to my feet and made my way to him.
All the lines I had in my head to say to him went out the window.
All I wanted to do now was make sure my man was okay.
Walking right into his arms, he smelled like cologne mixed with weed and liquor.
I hugged him tight as we both remained silent.
Hearing him sniffle and feeling the hot tears fall on my shoulder had me crying too.
I didn’t know what was wrong, but him hurting made me hurt.
His pain was my pain, and all I wanted to do was make it right for him.
Caressing his back and then massaging his shoulders, he became more vulnerable.
I couldn’t believe that Praise was really crying hard in my arms. Releasing me, he limped towards the couch.
I hated when he limped, it was a reminder that I had harmed him.
He only limped when his knee was bothering him badly, and right now was a sign of that.
I walked into the kitchen and got him a bottle of cold water.
Going into the drawer, I went through all his different medicines and retrieved pain meds and his anxiety pills.
Making my way back to him as fast as I could, he said nothing as he held onto my couch pillow and looked downward at nothing in particular.
Praise was in a daze; this wasn’t Beast at all.
Beast always kept his emotions in check and took shit as it was.
Lately, Beast had been in control. That’s who Praise really was; his dominance and personality were all Beast. He had been trying his hardest to make all of his doctor appointments and merge them all together.
Beast was doing good at it, but it was challenging, and his therapist said it might not ever happen.
Handing him the medicine, he took it with no debate. He threw it back, chasing it with water. When he finally looked at me, my heart broke for him. He didn’t even have the energy to wipe the tears away from his face.
“How did you feel when Malcolm died?” he spoke lowly.
I didn’t want to think the worse. I knew he and Leandra left earlier to get Michael the help he needed.
I prayed like hell Beast didn’t accidentally off him.
Shaking my head from that thought, I trusted my man.
He said he didn’t want to kill his brother, so the question threw me for a loop.
“How did you feel, Yori? I need to know, baby… be my medicine right now.” His eyes were pleading with me. Something bad happened. I pushed my fears to the side and looked at him as I took a seat next to him.
“Numb, baby. I can’t really say if I mourned Malcolm enough…
I get sad when I think about him not being here and angry because the rest of my family ain’t shit.
After Malcolm left, he was the only bit of family I had left besides Meshalay.
I was numb and couldn’t decipher my feelings because I was still ripped apart from my mom dying.
” I gave him the raw truth. My mom dying first consumed me for a long time.
It took over my whole being as a person.
Malcolm added to it, but most days, I was still hurt over my mother.
Til this day, I couldn’t say if I mourned them at the same time or at separate times. It was all still confusing to me.
“I was sad, though, but numb to losing people that meant the world to me. Why do you ask, baby?” I coached him to tell me what was wrong because I needed to know what the hell happened and why he was acting so down.
“Iguess I shouldn’t be sitting here so lost when I still got you, my mom, and the kids, plus Stone…
but Yori, baby… I’m so fucking hurt that I don’t know what the fuck to do.
I feel like it’s my fucking fault for all these fuckin deaths.
Like I’m a fucking monster, you know?” he stood to his feet as his voice slurred.
He was drunk and, in his feelings, badly.
He still didn’t confirm what I needed to know, so I remained quiet and watched him pace while limping.
“It’s my fuckin fault, Yori. I picked a fucked-up baby momma!
A rat ass triflin’ bitch! I had to kill my daughter’s momma!
One day Tea is gon’ want to know about her mother's death. I ain’t no fuckin liar, but I guess a nigga gotta lie ‘bout that shit! Gunna was like my fuckin brother, and he committed suicide ‘cause of me, but that nigga had it coming because he was a snake! His actions couldn’t be justified! He knew the fuckin rules to this shit and the code! He killed himself. He was a fuckin coward, but then again…” he paused as if he was giving it some thought.
My heart was pounding. I didn’t know if he was having an episode or a breakdown.
When the tears wouldn’t stop falling, I knew that it was a hard breakdown my man was having.
“I would’ve ended up killing Gunna, Kayori. That’s the twisted truth ‘cause my pride and Beast wouldn’t have let that nigga live!” he sat back down and grabbed the pillow tight, then looked at me with somber eyes.
“But Michael… my blood brother? I never would’ve killed that nigga, Kayori. You believe me, right?”
I nodded my head first, then answered him without a second thought, “I believe you, baby.”
“Then why the fuck he had to be on some pussy shit? Heroin? Overdose? That shit
doesn’t even sound right to me. My brother died being a fuckin junkie, and my momma blames me. I can never win for fuckin losing, Kayori.” More tears fell down his cinnamon-colored cheeks. I moved closer to him and consoled him as I held on to him as tight as I could.
“I was supposed to whoop that nigga’s ass for hitting our momma and stealing from her.
Now, I’m sitting here crying like a bitch ‘cause he ain’t gon’ ever get that ass whooping from me.
I wanted him to face his fuck-ups like a man.
That’s how I raised him to be. He got the easy way out, Yori.
After all the foul shit he done did, he got the easy way out of all this shit.
I’m hurt he’s gone, hurt that my momma is mad at me, and I know she ain’t gon’ be right no time soon.
I just wish I could rewind time. I wish I never got in the game and never met certain people so my brother could have never known about this lifestyle.
He was exposed to too much. He was weak and couldn’t handle this shit like me. It’s all my fault, Kayori.”
“No, the fuck it ain’t, Praise. I know you not gon’ want to hear this, but you got to mourn him and move on, baby ‘cause life gon’ keep ticking, I ain’t saying that to be cold, but all this blaming yourself for other people shit has got to stop.
People make their beds, whether it’s for selfish reasons or to help others.
However the hell they make their beds, best believe they gotta still lay in that shit.
When you a kid, ya momma or daddy… whoever that takes care of you, helps you make your bed.
When you’re grown, you make that shit yourself, and like I said, you lay in it.
Every adult is accountable for their own shit, is what I’m saying, Praise.
You can’t be a superhero, and you can’t fix every problem that’s made.
Leandra has to mourn in her own way, and sometimes it makes people feel better when they're able to take their pain and hurt out on somebody else. It ain’t healthy, but it’s what people do to cope.
I pray she comes around and be able to be there for you…
I pray for your strength and mine every day ‘cause at the end of the day, those two innocent kids are who we gotta be strong for and make shit tick for.”
I had to make that clear to him that half of this shit wasn’t his fault.
I now understood why Beast was the more dominant one, and I prayed that they could merge into one so that they could balance each other out.
No words were spoken as I held on tight to him and consoled him, and let him mourn.
Jesus wept; it was nothing wrong with being sad.
At the end of it all, you still had to live, and I learned that the hard way after losing my mom and then Malcolm.
“You gon’ be okay, baby. I’m gon’ make sure of it. This is a sad unforeseen occurrence, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You can be sad, but you cannot blame yourself.”
I pecked him on the lips as I heard Matthew cry.
It was his time to breastfeed. Leaving Praise, I went to tend to my baby.
I couldn’t help but chuckle when he gave me a look that only his dad and Mattea could give.
His gray eyes looked at me as he smiled and opened his mouth to receive my nipple.
Matthew was greedy as hell and demanding when he wanted to be fed.
He latched on with no problem, and I knew I would be stuck in here feeding him for another thirty minutes because he had drunk from both breasts.
I made a mental note to call his doctor tomorrow and ask for a recommended formula to start feeding him at night.
Breast milk only lasted him for an hour and a half to two hours, if that.
I wanted to start giving his greedy butt formula at night, so it could stick to his stomach longer, and he could sleep better without waking up too frequently.
After feeding him, I burped him and hummed a song to him until he fell back to sleep.
Once he was comfortable inside his bassinet, I walked out of the room and found Praise on the couch, asleep.
His tears were dried up, and he was snoring lightly.
My baby had a rough and hurtful day. I went to grab him a pillow and blanket.
Taking off his Timberlands and socks, I placed the pillow under his head and then the blanket on top of him.
Kissing him softly on the lips, I walked away to get in the bed myself and finally get some rest.
When I got into my bed, I looked up at the ceiling as the tears welled up in my eyes.
I haven’t done this in a while, but I got lost in my thoughts as I looked up at the white ceiling and cried softly.
Life had a way of going about things. I was so happy I had Praise in my life.
Because of him, he gave me two gifts which were Mattea and Matthew.
On the backside of it all, I had the what-ifs that would cross my mind and sadden me.
I wished like hell my mom was here. I wanted that mother-daughter relationship.
I also always wanted to see what it would be like to be a daddy’s girl as well.
I had neither, and my kids would never know their grandparents from my side of the family.
No aunties, no uncles, just me, Meshalay, and Praise’s family.
Sometimes you just have to take the good with the bad and do nothing but live and give thanks to God for what you did have.
The next morning, I woke up around eight in the morning.
I got the kids dressed, made breakfast, and went to the Inglewood Cemetery to visit my mom and Malcolm.
Surprisingly, I didn’t shed any tears, but a huge feeling of peace came over me.
I sat next to her gravesite and fed Matthew while Mattea skipped around and picked flowers that grew from the garden.
I almost got stuck when she asked whether she could visit her mom as well at the gravesite.
I was not sure what her dad had explained to her, but it was a weird topic that I hadn't prepared myself to speak with her about.
Before I could answer her, she looked up and gave me a bright smile. Mattea’s smile was a smile that always reached her eyes. She was a very happy kid, and I was thankful for that.
“Mommy was bad, her in hell!” she tapped her tiny foot against the grass and smiled, then demonstrated how her mom used to punish her. It pulled at my heartstrings, but I remained strong for her.
“The bad guys hurt mommy, so now you my mommy…but I want to talk to her like you do your mommy.” She pouted as I smiled softly at her. I wished her dad was here, so I could have him help me with this convo. This was definitely a daddy-daughter conversation, but I handled it the best I could.
“When we get home, ask daddy if he can take you to go see your mommy, okay?”
She nodded her head, and I was relieved that she dropped the conversation.
We stayed there for another hour. I talked to my mom and then Malcolm some more.
Once I fed Matthew and burped him, I loaded the kids back into the car and headed home.
When I left, Praise was still knocked out, sleeping so peacefully.
I hope that he was up and feeling better.
I left him his meds and water on the coffee table because I knew once he did wake up, his headache would be on ten.
I even tried calling Leandra to give her my condolences, but her phone went straight to voicemail.
I made a mental note to remind Praise to go check in on his mother.
At a time like this, she needed him, and in my opinion, they needed each other.
The blame game was useless. I hope she dropped it and didn’t try to keep holding Praise accountable for Michael’s fucked up decisions.