Chapter 7 #4
Ahmeek didn’t belong to him. Ethic didn’t know his creed.
Ethic couldn’t attest to his character, nor could he speak to how thorough Ahmeek was.
All he knew was that Ahmeek had amassed some respect in the city and that a few good disciples of Benny Atkins had vouched for Ahmeek’s father.
He didn’t doubt that Ahmeek was capable.
He knew Messiah would have never done dirt with Ahmeek if he wasn’t certified, but Ethic didn’t get in the dirt with just anybody.
Being this exposed in Ahmeek’s presence posed a significant threat to Ethic.
Ahmeek was no longer going off old wives’ tales of Ethic’s infamy; he was witnessing it.
This was a different level of access. If Ahmeek hadn’t been on Ethic’s roster before, the work he was putting in now to save Morgan qualified him.
He now had a position within Ethic’s kingdom, and it was a bit too close for comfort.
“I won’t pretend to understand how you fell for your best friend’s girl. She’s the mother of his kids. That, alone, should have made her off limits to you,” Ethic said sternly, “But I’ve crossed plenty lines for women I’ve loved. If you ever hurt her in any way…”
“She’s the best human being I know. I just want her safe. I just want her happy. Even if that can’t happen with me. You don’t owe me shit, but if you could tell her that…”
Ethic didn’t miss the sacrifice, and his stubborn resolve toward Ahmeek shifted slightly.
He knew then and there what the difference was between the two men Morgan had dubbed as suitors.
Messiah couldn’t see Morgan enjoying life with another man.
It wasn’t a bad thing. It was just how he was built.
To witness Morgan love another was damaging to Messiah.
It stole all joy from Messiah’s life. Ethic understood that.
He felt that way for Alani. He was selfish in the way he loved his wife, and he was unapologetic about it.
He would murder any man who attempted to come after him without losing sleep.
He also understood Ahmeek’s love for Morgan being strong enough to put her needs before his own.
He wanted to see her fulfilled, even if that meant walking away.
Ethic had experienced that with a different woman, Disaya Morgan.
In a different universe, YaYa could have been the woman he spent a lifetime with.
He knew Morgan needed to hear what was unsaid by Ahmeek.
Morgan needed to hear it all. Growing up without the ability to hear made auditory confessions of love extremely important to her.
She had been starved of it her entire life.
Ethic couldn’t be the messenger. She needed it from the source. She deserved to hear it from Ahmeek.
“After this is done, you should tell her yourself,” Ethic stated. “For now, keep your head in the game.”
“Careful, you might break character, OG. I know where your loyalties lie,” Ahmeek reminded.
“My loyalties lie with Morgan. Always.”
Sitting vigilantly over the sick and shut-in was a part of the job.
Nyair had never been sensitive to the weight that his congregation carried.
He couldn’t be. If he internalized the trauma of every person who came to him in need of emotional help, he would adopt so many demons.
It took some detachment to stand at the front of a pulpit and preach to hundreds each week.
It took leadership and a trust in God that was unshakeable.
As he stepped into the hospital room of Yara Rae Atkins, he felt the heaviest blow as it landed upon the armor of God.
The room was stifled with fear as two parents faced a notion that the creators of tiny humans should never have to face.
They didn’t even have to tell him it was bad.
All parents spoke the same silent language when the unthinkable became the unavoidable.
You had to be careful how you mishandled another person because God would force allyship one way or another.
Yara’s sickness had forced them to flip to the same page in the book of life.
They couldn’t see eye to eye before, now sorrow had them facing one another as they went regret for regret in their minds.
“Thanks for coming, Ny,” Morgan said, exhaustion clinging to her tone as she stood and gave him a halfhearted hug. He knew she couldn’t do anything with her whole heart under these circumstances. “You just missed Ethic.”
“Of course, Mo. I came as soon as I saw the message. My phone was on DND last night,” Nyair answered, his loyalty evident in his tone as if not coming wasn’t even an option. “I saw E on his way out.”
He turned to Messiah. “We have our differences, G, but our loyalties are with the same family. I’m here to help, not just Mo. You too. The grief of a father is different. Requires a different type of prayer, you feel me?”
Messiah swallowed hard as he nodded. “Respect,” Messiah answered. “Whatever prayers you can lend us, we’ll take ‘em.”
Nyair walked to Yara’s bedside and went into his pocket, pulling out a small glass vial.
He bit down on his bottom lip as he mumbled.
“We would never get the opportunity to prove our loyalty to God if He never tested our sight in the darkness.” He applied a drop of oil to his thumb and then placed it on Yara’s forehead.
“Dear Father, we want to say thank You. We want to thank You for this mountain You have set before our paths. We want to thank You for this pain we feel. For this sickness. For these troubles…”
Messiah cleared his throat as he frowned, perplexed.
Morgan motioned for Messiah to wait as she stared at Nyair.
“You see, God, we know that this grief we feel is not the destination. It is the starting line. This fight, this disease that terrifies us, is of Your will, and so, Your will shall be done. We do not fear the mountain, Lord, because we know You have equipped us with everything we need to climb it. That climb is hard. It is excruciating, and it is so terrifying that it brings us to our knees. It brings us to You. We hear You clearer than any other time when we are in pain. We call on You more than any other time when we are in pain. We are present, Father God. We are paying attention, and we offer our lives to You. We offer her life to You. We understand that You have infinite power, and that we owe You all the praise. We have faith in this journey. With each hard step, with every diagnosis, we will stay faithful, and we will come to You. Yara Rae’s sickness is not the ending of a story; it is the beginning of our story as we learn of Your power, Your mercy, Your glory.
Cover Your daughter, Lord. Cover her in the blood.
We understand the purpose of this pain, Father, and we’re here now.
We are all still. Example need not be made, God.
Heal our sweet girl. In the name of Jesus, we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” Messiah mumbled.