15. Renza Mensah #2
Even in my room, where she ain’t been, I could smell the idea of her from the hallway every time the air moved. It made no damn sense, and maybe that was my mind fuckin’ with me, but I smelled her anyway.
I sat here watchin’ the game with my arms restin’ on the chair, tryna pretend my chest wasn’t tighten every few minutes.
The smart part of me said this was good. She was gone, and I was home.
But the part of me I ain’t like listenin’ to wondered if she made it back safe.
The game kept movin’. Niggas ran up and down the court, the score changed, people cheered and I sat here feelin’ like I had finally made it back from somewhere even though I had only been across the island.
I rubbed my hand over my mouth and shook my head once, more at myself than anything else.
Eventually, the game pulled me in a lil’. A nigga hit a three from the corner, and I muttered, “Good shot,” under my breath. Then another nigga turned the ball over on some dumb shit, and I sat up some.
For the first time since all day, my chest loosened a lil’ without me forcin’ it.
I ain’t know how long it was gon’ take to get ‘Nelle outta me.
I just knew tonight was the first night I had come home and stayed. That had to count for somethin’.
Maybe tomorrow would be easier. Maybe the day after that would be even easier.
Maybe if I kept my hands busy and my mouth shut, the part of me that still wanted to answer for ‘Nelle would get tired of fightin’.
I ain’t know, but I was home now, and I was too tired to keep livin’ out of bags like a nigga with nowhere to be.
I leaned back in my recliner, turned the volume up a lil’, and watched the game until I was fully relaxed.
The scent was still there. The ache was still here, but I stayed where I was, tryna let that be enough for the night.
The weekend rolled around again and I was out with Blaq and another potna, but by the time we got to the section, I already knew I should’ve stayed my ass at home.
We had been movin’ since earlier in the day.
First, we hit the barbershop. After that, we slid through one of the main malls in Trill-Land, walked through a few stores, grabbed some shit we ain’t really need, and kept it pushin’.
Blaq was talkin’ cash shit the whole time, my potna was laughin’ at damn near everything and I was right there with ’em movin’ how I normally moved, but somethin’ in me wasn’t hittin’ the way it used to.
By the time night came, they wanted to hit the section, and I went ‘cause I ain’t have a real reason to say no.
I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t busy. I ain’t have nobody callin’ my phone askin’ when I was comin’ home or sendin’ me pictures from a bed I wanted to be in.
So I pulled up, parked my own shit, walked inside with my people, and let the club swallow us like it always did.
The music was loud enough to shake the walls, liquor was movin’ through the section, women was lookin’, niggas was noddin’, and everybody seemed ready to turn the night into somethin’ worth talkin’ about.
For a long time, I loved this shit…
I loved the noise, the lights, the bottles, the attention and the way the whole room seemed to shift when me and my cousins walked in together.
Before everything changed, it had always been me, Pressure, and Kay’Lo runnin’ through Trill-Land like the world was ours ‘cause in a lot of ways, it was.
We ran streets, made money, shot shit when shit needed to be shot, and lived wild ‘cause nobody around us could tell us we had to slow down.
We was young, reckless, rich and too protected by our last name to think too long about where all that wild shit would take us.
Then life started movin’ different…
Pressure had Pluto now, and that nigga had babies, a wife and a whole house that settled him in ways I never thought I would see.
Kay’Lo had Toni and My’Love, and even with all the crazy shit that came with them, he still had somewhere to go when the club lights cut on and the bottles got warm.
They had women who could call, fuss, need somethin’, or just say come home, and them niggas would leave whatever was goin’ on without feelin’ like they lost nothin’.
I used to talk shit about that, but after bein’ around it long enough, I started seein’ it different. It ain’t make ‘em weak. It gave ‘em somethin’ the streets couldn’t give back.
I sat in the section with my legs stretched out, a blunt between my fingers that I ain’t even lit yet, and a cup in my other hand that I had barely touched.
Blaq was leaned forward talkin’ to two women by the edge of the section, and my other potna was posted up with his arm across the back of the couch, actin’ like he was listenin’ to whatever a female in a black dress was sayin’.
I looked around at the bottles, the sparklers, the loud ass music and the people movin’ like this was the best place to be, and all I could think was that this shit had got old on me without askin’ permission.
“Why you sittin’ there lookin’ sad, nigga?” Blaq asked, leanin’ back enough to look at me.
I looked down at the blunt, then at him. “Nigga, this my face.”
“That ain’t yo’ face, nigga,” he laughed. “That’s that I’on wanna be here face.”
I finally took a sip from my cup and sat it down by my leg. “Then why you ask?”
Blaq laughed and shook his head, but he ain’t push it. He turned back toward the women, and I leaned deeper in the couch, lettin’ my eyes move over the club again.
I looked around the section while everybody else seemed locked into the night. Bottles kept comin’, women kept movin’ around the couches, niggas kept talkin’ loud over the music, and all of it felt like the same shit I had done too many times before.
My mind had started seein’ shit different lately, and I knew that made me hard to deal with.
Either I cared too much or I ain’t care at all. Either I wanted somethin’ so bad it could pull me apart, or I could cut it off and turn dangerous behind it. That middle space never lasted long with me.
I ain’t know how to sit here in this shit, and I never really had to learn ‘cause somebody was always beside me, movin’ just as wild, laughin’ just as loud and ready to make whatever wrong decision I was thinkin’ about makin’.
But now Pressure had his wife. Kay’Lo had his. My uncles had built lives. My father had built his. Everybody around me had some version of home that ain’t depend on noise.
I had been chasin’ that too, whether I said the shit out loud or not. That was the part that kept sittin’ on my chest while the club moved around me.
I thought my life was finally lockin’ into place with a woman I loved. I had let myself think past the night life, and past the next time I needed to be outside so I ain’t have to feel nothin’.
I had started lookin’ at houses, thinkin’ about my woman walkin’ through rooms with me, thinkin’ about kids runnin’ through hallways and a table with everybody at it ‘cause that kind of shit stopped soundin’ corny once I saw it up close.
Then everything turned, and I ain’t been able to get my feet all the way back under me since.
I ain’t wanna sit with that in the section, though.
I set the blunt down and stood up, adjustin’ the front of my jeans while Blaq looked over. He lifted his chin at me, and I told him, “I’m finna take a piss.”
He nodded and went back to his conversation while I moved out the section and cut through the crowd. The music hit harder once I was off the couch. Bodies brushed past me, perfume mixed with liquor, and folks kept speakin’ as I walked by.
I spoke back when I needed to, kept it pushin’ when I ain’t, and made my way toward the bathroom with my head already somewhere else.
The hallway near the restrooms was packed too, with niggas posted on the wall and women takin’ pictures under the lights like the bathroom area was a damn photo shoot.
I handled my business, washed my hands, and took a second at the sink with my palms pressed to the counter. My reflection looked calm enough. That was usually all I needed people to see. I wiped my hands, opened the bathroom door, and stepped back into the hallway.
I ain’t make it three steps before somebody bumped into my chest. It was a soft body with familiar perfume, and green eyes lookin’ up at me hit me all at once. It was Reni.
She took one step back, and I watched her face change before she got it under control. She looked good, the way she always did. Hair laid, makeup soft, dress sittin’ on her body right and them eyes still too easy to read when she wasn’t guardin’ ’em fast enough.
For a second, neither one of us said nothin’. The club was loud behind us, people was movin’ around us, and still, that lil’ pocket of space between us felt like it belonged to somethin’ older than tonight.
“Wussup, Reni?” I asked, tryna play the shit cool.
She blinked and fixed the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “Hey, Renza.”
Her voice was calm, but I could hear the weight in it.
She ain’t smile big. She ain’t roll her eyes, and she ain’t do none of that extra shit that would’ve made this easier to walk away from.
She just stood there lookin’ at me like she had already decided she wasn’t gon’ let me see too much, even though her eyes was doin’ what her mouth wouldn’t.
“You good?” I asked.
“I’m good,” she said, then looked past me for a second like she needed somewhere else to put her eyes. “You?”
“I’m straight.”
She nodded, and the silence between us stretched enough for a few people to push around us. I stepped closer to the wall so we wasn’t blockin’ the walkway, and she moved with me. That told me she wasn’t tryna run from the conversation, even if she wasn’t exactly comfortable standin’ in it.
“You here with somebody?” I asked.
“Mecca. She somewhere by the bar.”
I almost smiled, but I kept it light. “Sound about right.”
Reni’s mouth curved a lil’, but the smile ain’t last long. She looked down at her nails, then back up at me. “I ain’t expect to see you tonight.”
“I ain’t expect to see you either.”