18. Patience
Patience
I’m going to pace track marks into this Persian rug.
Today Cochise gets jumped into G$.
He shouldn’t be anywhere near G$. The different families are all in charge of different things.
The Spears take care of our nourishment.
Bloodmoons preserve our histories. Nabahis make us fruitful.
Geronimos enforce our laws. Beverlys are our guides.
It’s been drilled into us since we could memorize anything.
So why the fuck is Cochise being jumped into G$?!
I couldn’t stop it… Daddy thinks Cochise is too soft. That being around me has feminized him.
The same old man that frowns upon modernization, that worries about Monty’s growing ties to the streets and gang politics is okay with grown men jumping a thirteen year-old boy.
Cochise is intelligent. And sensitive. And thinks before he acts. Sees all perspectives. Empathetic.
He’ll make for an amazing Chief.
Not that Daddy sees that.
I’m supposed to be making lasagna but I have to be in the front room when they get back. Cochise and I don’t have mothers, and we refuse to count the gaggle of baby mothers Daddy keeps in rotation as a mother figure, especially when they, and their daughters, despise us.
So I have to nurse his wounds. I have to put my baby brother back together again.
The door opens and my heart seizes. Cochise has always had the most beautiful skin the color of night, but even I can see the bruises mottling his face. His eye is swollen shut, and his clothes are dirty, torn in some places.
“What the fuck, Monty!” I shriek, as Pic and Tripp place him on Monty’s couch.
I rush over to him, careful not to touch him.
“Cheese,” I whisper, hot tears falling. “Are you okay?”
He groans and turns his body away from me, and my soul stings from his rejection.
I know part of why Daddy thinks he’s so soft is because of me. I’ve babied him as any big sister would do. I’ve been his caretaker since he was a baby, and though I’m reverent of our culture, I resent the pressure on his shoulders as Daddy’s male heir.
I shoot up and stomp over to Monty, who’s regarding me as he always does; one-third love, one-third lust, one-third amusement.
“You could have refused my father,” I hiss. I wind my hand up to slap the piss out of him but he catches my wrist, brings me closer, and kisses my cheek.
“It’s niggas his age in the can that’s taking on niggas bigger than Tripp. I had a young nigga under me out the projects who wasn’t scared of no one, no guard, nothing. I refuse to know any other young nigga more thorough than Coach.”
He leans away from me and smirks. “Cochise held his own though. Had Sheisty ass leaking all in the alley.”
I snatch away from him. “Seeing my baby brother black and blue–”
“That’s yo problem, Fox. Cochise ain’t a baby no more. Soon as he turns eighteen and gets married he becomes Chief. You won’t be able to fight his battles then.”
Present
I can’t keep my eyes off my brother. Now that I don’t have to duck and dodge Royce stalking my location, I’ve spent the last day memorizing him.
At first I thought his deep ebony skin was smooth and blemish free underneath his tattoos, but upon further review I see his intricate lines etched all over his body.
They showed in the harsh fluorescent light of the underground medical facility, making my brother look like he was carved from obsidian.
But here, under the more muted lights in his room at our estate, they’re subtle, almost invisible.
His curls are flat on his head, haircut growing out from being in the hospital, but unlike Daddy, who went bald early, Cochise’s hairline is going strong.
“Something you wanna say, Fox?” he rumbles, still looking at his tv as he flips through channels.
I climb into the bed and sit opposite him. I grab his hand to examine the marks on them. They go all the way to his fingernails.
“You’re marked like this everywhere?”
“Yup. When I turned eighteen. The elders peeled my skin back and then when the new skin came pink it was tattooed in so I didn’t look like an alien.”
“Daddy doesn’t have these,” I mumble.
“Dad also doesn't have the chieftain markings on his face, either. I wanted this. Going through it with no numbing is a sign that I’m the strongest in the tribe.”
“Anything to get on those old geezers’ good side, eh?”
Cochise sighs, and I thread out hands together.
“The only thing that has changed is my age, Fox. Their hatred of me still reigns supreme.”
“Well, I’m right there about to be voted off the island with you.”
There’s a knock at the door before Pic walks in. His face softens as he walks to the other side of Cochise’s bed.
“Niggas gotta sample Many Men now,” he rasps as he daps my brother up. Then he glances at me and gestures for me to follow him before leaving back out.
“You know, I always thought it would be you and Pic. Then I thought it’d be you and Grime and he would be Chief. Never thought you’d end up… shit, what do you call having a girlfriend and a boyfriend?”
I pinch his arm as I get up, not even dignifying him with an answer, and try to get my breathing together as I exit his room.
Pic waits until I’m out before going down the stairs. Eventually, I follow him into the gardens, and we take a seat on the bench we used to sit at a long time ago with our mothers. It was our own special spot, where I’d ramble and he’d listen.
Now, on the fall East Kenton day, the wind caresses us, making me hug myself and hunch over in an old cardigan I found in my closet.
Pic’s normal ruddy tone is paling from lack of sun. His jawline is strong as he faces forward, out into the gardens, but I know better. He’s observing me as intensely as it looks like he’s in thought.
The tips of his chest-length braids are more sandy than the rest of his hair, matching the goatee he’s starting to grow. Shakari, and most of the other men in his family, have little to no facial hair.
They’re also–along with the Bloodmoons–the more traditional families.
“Why?”
Pic’s the strong, silent type. Much like Set. It’s probably why I clashed with him so hard. He reminds me so much of my best friend. Both have the least amount to say. Both wise beyond their years, and love fiercely. As loyal as they come.
That one word, why. It’s so loaded. And not an easy answer for any of the questions I can apply it to.
I start with the easiest answer.
“He’s a murderer,” I whisper.
“We’ve all killed, Fox. Even your precious Cheese.”
I pull my legs into the seat and face him. “Not like Monty. I couldn’t… I let so much slide when it came to him, to us. I loved him more than I loved myself, but he finally asked me for too much, so I left.”
“Apache knows.”
Not a question, but a statement. I still don’t reply to him, and a ghost of a smile dots his lips.
“Why come back?”
“I’ve always wanted to study under Dr. Enoch.”
He grunts like he doesn’t believe me. The bastard he is.
“I stayed away from East Kenton. No matter how big you guys got, you’d always be First Nations… I’ve been back twelve years no issue. How was I supposed to know Cochise would date my girlfriend’s sister?”
Pic folds his arms and cuts his eyes to me.
“How was I supposed to know he’d still be single!” I throw my arms in the air, exasperated with his silent treatment.
“Covenant, Fox. Grime is head of his family. That’s one of the oldest laws… you know that. You’re not married either. And I can bet you’ve mostly if not only dated women this whole time, well, before that.”
“Hey!” I rub my belly. “She’s not a that. Don’t speak about your future niece like that.”
Finally, he turns his head toward me and smiles.
“My bad.”
“I thought you guys would all be married, though. At least you.”
Pic shakes his head. “Shaka’s married.”
“I’m praying for her.”
“Asshole,” he chuckles. Tripp’s got some girl out in Houston. I’m enjoying the perks of being a rap star.”
I shove him as he chuckles. “You’re disgusting… Cochise said he always thought we’d be together.”
Pic scrunches his face. “The Fox and the Hound are friends, not lovers,” he says, referencing our favorite movie.
Even Monty would try to question me or make a face at how close Pic and I were, but we’d never ever even thought about crossing that line. We were platonic soulmates.
He was my Rico.
“Besides, you talk too damn much. Too feisty. I need someone who just is.”
“Oh, fuck you!”
When our laughter dies down, Pic squeezes my knee. “He deserves closure, Fox.”
“He deserves nothing,” I seethe.
He squeezes my knee again, trying to calm me. “Fine. You need it. You must close this door to open another. The Covenant won’t be ignored, especially now that you’re back. Knocked up or not.”
“I know.”
“He won’t be ignored either.”
“I know,” I groan.
Pic pats my knee before moving his hand back into his lap and turning his head back forward.
“Any chance I can’t get you to kill him, huh?”
“Kill who, Fox?”
Of course. To the Council, the Beverly estate has an open door policy. So it was nothing for Pic to walk in.
Just like it’s nothing for Monty to be in the gardens now.
Pic’s lips twitch as he stands.
“Don’t leave me out here with him!” I whisper, but he’s not having it. He daps up Monty in their G$ handshake and Monty takes his seat.
My eyes, like always, go to the fox tattoo on his arm.
I wanted my name across his forehead.
“You cut your hair,” he says, voice full of awe. When it’s just us, he’s not Grimey, leader of G$, or Montavious, head of the Geronimo Family. He’s Monty. The boy whose love flowed like honey. Who was sweet only for his Fox.
“First thing I did after I changed my name.”
He smirks. “Patience Fox. Why that?” He reaches for my knee but I pull my legs back into my chest away from him.
“I want to break Covenant.”
He scowls up immediately. “Hell the fuck no,” he hisses. “You’ve been mine in the eyes of the First Nations and the spirits since we were seventeen, Fox. There’s no reason to–”
“I’m pregnant, Monty.”
“And I will love your child like my own,” he says without missing a beat. There’s no lie or malice in his tone, only sincerity shining through. He really would… he’d take on my child as his if it meant having me, too.
Something I’d never reciprocate.
“Besides, you haven’t had your baby yet. There’s no reason to–”
I shoot up to my feet and point to him. “You broke Covenant sixteen years ago, Montavious! Or did you kill him too!”
Monty stands and invades my space. “Watch yo fucking mouth before I forget I’m in love with you, Fox.”
“Why? Afraid someone will hear your dirty little secret!” Inside I’m fighting not to cower. Now that I know what Monty’s capable of, I don’t want to cross him. But dammit, I refuse to be forced into something I don’t want to do! Not then, not now.
He grins and pulls on his beard. “You can shout that shit to the mountaintops, Fox. Except I know you won’t. Telling mine means telling it all, and you’d never hurt Cochise like that.”
I narrow my eyes. “Try me–”
“Who would believe you, Fox? The woman who turned her back on her people? Who broke one of the oldest laws of our land? Who has the physical evidence of her transgressions growing inside of her? The Council will vote to defer to your betrothed, my love. Me. And I’ll do what I should have done the second I seen that picture of you and yo bitch; stomp that baby out of you and replace it with one of mine. After I slit yo bitch’s throat.”
My hands shoot up to my own throat. “You wouldn’t!”
His grin turns sadistic. “I would, beautiful. And I’d record myself snuffing out yo bd and play it in a loop until you get it through that thick ass skull of yours that this, is for life.”
Tears stream down my face as I fight to breathe. “You’re a monster,” I choke out.
He leans in and kisses my forehead even though I flinch away. “Me and your bd cut from the same cloth, beautiful. Think about what you decide. You got a few weeks before your tribunal.”
Grimey leaves me outside and I collapse back onto the bench. Pulling my thigh to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs, rest my forehead on my knees, and sob.