Chapter 8 JULES #2
I cut the engine and got out of the truck, already slipping back into the version of myself that knew how to function without feeling.
The one that kept things moving. The one that didn't ask for more than what was already in front of him.
Family was still my responsibility. Being present was still my job.
That didn't mean I knew how to do it right anymore.
Inside, Juste was sitting behind the desk, attention focused on the computer. The room smelled like coffee and printer ink, same as always. Same setup. Same order. That consistency settled me more than I liked to admit. "You here early," he cut his eyes up at me.
"Shit, yeah. Had to drop the kids off at school.
Julise's ass snuck out the house this last night and pulled up with some lil' nigga in a red car round three a.m. She was out for a good lil' minute too," I vented, pulling out the chair in front of the desk and taking a seat.
Saying it out loud made it feel heavier.
Made it real in a way it hadn't been when it was just bouncing around in my head.
He pushed back, eyes following me as I sat down. "Nigga what the hell?" he said.
"Yeah nigga, shit is all fucked up at my crib," I exhaled, leaning my head back. I stared at the ceiling for a second longer than I needed to. White tiles. Small crack in the corner. I counted them out of habit. Anything to keep from letting my thoughts spiral.
"I see," he said, raising his eyebrow. "I know Nia cut up on her ass."
"Tuh. I thought she was finna put her hands on her at one point," I said.
"Shit, it's like I don't even know how to be the man of my house no more.
Her and Julise constantly arguing and fighting.
Me and her arguing and fighting, except for after hours when we fucking each other like shit never changed.
“That part sat there between us. Ugly. Honest.
Juste didn't say nothing right away. Let it hang.
He always did that. Let people hear themselves.
"You stuck in your head, Ju," he finally said.
"You wanna forgive her, but you don't. You wanna move on, but you don't. You gotta pick one, brudda.
Straddling the fence like this ain't doing shit but sending wreckage through your house. "
I rubbed my jaw, feeling the roughness there.
I hadn't shaved in a couple of days. Didn't care to.
Little things like that felt pointless lately.
"I don't know, Juste," I said. "I honestly came home feeling like fuck that shit.
I contacted a divorce lawyer on the inside and everything.
" He looked at me sharp. "But getting out, seeing the state of my kids, the state of her, it kinda make me feel like a coward making that call," I continued.
"Then she holler 'bout being on some shit bout figuring out who she is.
I don't know what the fuck to think or do.
" That was as close as I'd come to admitting confusion in a long time.
"You wild as fuck seeking out a divorce lawyer," he raised his eyebrow.
"What's wrong with Nia finding herself? She been hooked on your ass like a fiend since she was fourteen, Jules.
Ain't shit wrong with her wanting to be something outside of what she been.
" He leaned forward slightly. "On some real shit, brudda tell me what's wrong with that?
" I didn't answer. Because the truth wasn't pretty.
It wasn't that something was wrong with it.
It was that I didn't know where that left me.
He watched my face, searching. I stared back at nothing, jaw tight, hands resting flat on my thighs.
Still. Controlled. "You selfish, Ju," he said finally.
"You always have been." That shit landed clean.
"Mama always told us everything happens for a reason," he continued.
"And God rest my niece soul, but maybe that shit happened for a reason, Ju.
Maybe it's a bigger picture to see right here. "
The room felt smaller all of a sudden. Like the walls had leaned in.
Juliana's face flashed in my mind before I could stop it.
I pushed it back down where it stayed. I didn't talk about her.
Didn't need to. Carrying her was enough.
Maybe that was the problem. I'd built my whole life around carrying weight.
Providing. Protecting. Holding shit together with discipline and silence.
But sitting there, listening to my brother tell me truths I didn't ask for, something clicked into place quiet as hell.
If Nia found herself, if she became something outside of me, then I couldn't hide behind duty anymore.
I couldn't just be the man who stayed. I'd have to be the man who chose.
And I wasn't sure I liked what that choice would say about me.
"Nigga hire a therapist," he said, breaking my thoughts.
"I'm not doing all that, man. Ima figure this shit out," I said, waving him off.
That was the truth. Or at least the version of it I could live with.
Talking to somebody about feelings never did shit for me, but made shit feel messier.
I'd learned how to compartmentalize early.
Learned how to put shit where it belonged and lock the door behind it.
"You makin' my head hurt thinkin' 'bout my girl growin' up," he said, shaking his head. "I can't believe you let that young nigga spin off like that."
I leaned back in the chair, jaw tight. "Oh ima figure out who he is and pull up on him fa sho," I said, nodding my head. That part didn't require much thought. Men, I understood. Patterns I understood. Fear too. That boy pulling off like that told me everything I needed to know.
"Da hell y'all old niggas in here talkin' 'bout?" Noles said, walking in with Pierre behind him.
"The woes of life, my nigga," I said. They laughed, but it didn't stick. Not for me.
We sat around and went over numbers for a while.
Paperwork spread across the desk. Screens pulled up.
Juste talking about a new project he had his eye on, something solid, something that made sense.
We put our heads together to decide on the next move, like we always did.
Business was easy. Clean. Straight lines.
You put something in, you get something out.
No guessing. No hoping. No waiting on somebody else to change.
My phone buzzed. Nia texted me to let me know she took care of Julise and dropped her off at school. I stared at the screen longer than I needed to. No extra words. No emotion attached. Just information. I locked my phone and set it face down on the desk.
Shit was still hard for me to wrap my head around my daughter possibly out here fucking.
That thought sat heavy, ugly, uncomfortable.
I didn't say it out loud. I don't know who I was fooling, because I knew exactly what was going on.
I knew because I knew what I was doing at her age.
Sneaking. Lying. Thinking I knew more than I did.
Thinking grown meant free. That realization made my chest tighten.
Julise wasn't just being rebellious. She was becoming.
That shit scared me more than prison ever did.
Inside, I'd worried about my kids in a distant way.
Thought about them like responsibilities waiting on me.
Problems I'd fix when I got home. Out here, it was different.
Every mistake felt closer. Louder. Like it could spiral out of control if I didn't get my hands on it.
Later that night, I found myself sitting out in the yard in my car, drinking a bottle of liquor.
The dash lights glowed low, clock blinking, engine off, but the keys still in the ignition, like I hadn't decided what I was doing yet.
The house sat right in front of me, dark except for one light on upstairs.
I was honestly dreading going inside the house and dealing with the turmoil it was in.
Everything felt louder in there. Every look.
Every silence. Every door opening or closing like it meant something.
Out here, in the car, I could breathe without being asked to explain myself.
I'd be a coward to walk away, follow up with that divorce lawyer, and give myself an out to this shit.
I knew that. Running had never sat right with me.
I stayed when shit got ugly. Stayed when it cost me.
Stayed when it would've been easier to disappear.
That was the wrong thing to do. Easier though. One hundred percent.
I tilted the bottle back and chugged the rest of it, the burn settling heavy in my chest. Didn't savor it. Didn't pace myself. Just wanted it gone. Wanted something to dull the edge without opening anything up.
I slipped into the house quiet, locking the door behind me out of habit.
It was quiet and smelled clean. Too clean.
Like Nia had scrubbed the day away the same way she always did when shit got overwhelming.
Counters wiped. Floors swept. Everything in its place, like order, could keep chaos from coming back.
I peeked in each door, one by one. Juelz sprawled out, mouth open, one arm hanging off the bed.
Jezel curled up tight, blanket pulled to her chin.
Julise turned away from the door, back stiff even in her sleep.
I stood there a second longer than I needed to, then moved on.
When I made it to the bedroom, I could hear the shower running.
Water steady. Relentless. Same rhythm. I knew she'd be in there longer than usual.
That's how she cried when she didn't want nobody to hear it.
I kicked my shoes off and laid back on the bed staring up at the ceiling.
Same spot I'd stared at so many nights before everything fell apart.
Fan spinning slow. Shadows moving across the walls.
I heard the shower cut off and the bathroom door open.
I sat up at the edge of the bed, watching her walk across the room, wrapped in her towel.
I watched her start to dry herself off. She watched me through the mirror, her facial expression never changing.
It was like I felt lust flowing through my veins.
I stood up, staggering over to where she was.
I pushed her up against the dresser, swiping away the lotion and perfume that was sitting there.
I watched her facial expression go from blank to lustful, matching mine.
I grabbed her by the back of her neck, roughing her up, bending her over the dresser.
I dropped my pants and slid my dick in her, groaning.
I watched her bite her lip in the mirror as she had her eyes closed.
I stroked her roughly, grunting out, and she matched me stroke for stroke. I gripped tightly on the back of my neck as I sped up my pace, drilling her shit from behind, making her yelp out. I slapped her ass three times in a row before her body started shaking.
We ended up in the bed, me laying on my back, her with her back turned to me snoring.