Epilogue
It was a cold, damp Saturday, the sky a dull gray, just like Juelz’s mood at the moment.
The morning dew clung to the grass in the cemetery.
Juelz knelt down, the dampness of the grass started seeping through his jeans immediately.
But he didn’t care. He focused his attention on the slab of granite in front of him.
His fingers traced the sharp, clean letters etched into the stone before he could pull them back.
“Almost a year, huh?” he murmured. “Three hundred and sixty-four days. Feels like a lifetime and a minute all at once.”
He closed his eyes, and the world fell away, replaced by the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway of the hospital.
The smell of antiseptic and fear. The rhythmic, merciless beep of a heart monitor.
The doctor's face, etched with a professional sorrow that offered no comfort, his words landing like physical blows.
"...we're losing them both... we need you to make a decision, Young man... that day will always be stuck in my head on repeat,” Juelz continued, his eyes fixed on the headstone as if he could see the person buried six feet under. “I remember the silence after the call dropped. The longest ten seconds of my life. I drove to the hospital, breakin’ every traffic law there was. I prayed knowin’ dang well I haven’t spoken to God since I was a kid.
I promised to live and serve him better only if he heard my cry that day.
” Juelz shifted his weight, looking up into the sky.
“I said, Lord, please let them both be okay. Let them make it out of this.”
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped his lips. “And then they gave me the hardest choice I ever had to make in my life, my baby. That fuckin’ choice. Like picking between my heart and my soul. We went through so much to see those two small pink lines and …”
He wiped the tear that was about to fall from his eye.
“I couldn’t make the choice that easily.
” He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against the wet stone.
“How was I supposed to make a hard ass decision like that? And on the spot at that. How could they put that much pressure on me? Did the universe hate me that much? To make me decide which part of my family I wanted to kill off. Like it was a fuckin’ game of survival. ”
The mist started to pick up, blurring the edges of the headstone.
“I stood there, and my whole world shattered into a million pieces. I saw our future, the one we were just laughing about on the phone, evaporating. I saw the fuckin’ nursery that I had painted a week before the accident.
I saw my hopes of playing catch in the yard with my li’l nigga just all fade away as they waited for my answer. ”
Juelz pulled back, wiping a hand over his face, not knowing if it was more of his tears or the rain coming down on him.
He shook his head, the memory of the waiting room suffocating him.
The endless hours of Tasha on the cold surgery table.
The silent cries from Tasha’s sister, Tiffany, and Niyah.
The disappointment he felt every time a different doctor passed by.
“Shit, this harder than I thought, fuck, man.”
His voice cracked, the words getting heavier as they left his tongue.
“I chose her…” he admitted, pointing to his chest. A lump seemed to rise in his throat as he spoke.
“I couldn’t see myself without her. So I would choose her a million more times.
” He wiped his eyes and let out a small laugh.
“But somehow… God had better plans. My G still gave me both anyway, my baby.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a single white rose, its petals protected by a layer of tissue paper.
He unwrapped it and laid it across the base of the stone.
“I just wanted to come drop some words at ya headstone. I don't hate you for it. Nah. I just... feel sorry that you never got to feel what real love was, I mean, you wanted a nigga so bad that you couldn’t stand to see her happy… and look where it gotcha. Was it worth it? Whatever you were tryna prove, whatever revenge you thought you were takin’.
.. was it worth endin’ up here, Shyann. Was it? ”
He took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head.
Shyann’s jealousy got the best of her that day, and she couldn’t phantom the thought of Tasha living happily with Juelz and a baby.
That morning, she was running errands when she spotted Tasha stepping out of the doctor’s office.
Instead of going on about her day, she followed her.
Hatred got the best of her, but not knowing it would lead to her own death.
She had eventually sped ahead and got into the opposite lane on that steep rise to hit Tasha head-on.
Juelz gave one final, silent nod and turned his back to walk away. He had gotten everything off his chest that he needed to say to her.
The walk back to the car was long, each step a deliberate movement away from the past and toward the present. He slid into the passenger seat of his old school, the sudden warmth a stark contrast to the cemetery's chill.
“You ready, bae?” asked Tasha from the driver's seat, as she coated her lips with lip gloss in the mirror.
She was there, waiting for him, just like she always was. Her hand found his immediately, her fingers lacing through his, a silent anchor in the storm of his memories. Her eyes, the same warm brown as the coffee she loved, were full of a deep, unwavering understanding that went beyond words.
“You get everythin’ off your chest?” she asked softly, her voice a balm on his raw soul.
Juelz nodded, leaning over, kissing the long scar on the side of her face.
“Yeah. I think so.”
He turned to the back of the car. There, tucked securely into his sleek car seat, was their son.
JJ. Juelz Junior. He was fast asleep, his little mouth parted in a peaceful pout, his cheeks full and rosy.
A shock of soft black hair stood up on his head, and even in sleep, his brow was furrowed with the same serious concentration Juelz saw in his own reflection.
God had really worked a miracle in that operating room. He had saved them both.
A real, genuine smile, the first one that reached his eyes all day, finally broke across Juelz's face. “Wake up, li’l nigga, all you do is sleep,” he whispered, his heart swelling with a love so fierce it almost hurt.
Tasha squeezed his hand, her thumb stroking his knuckles. “He so perfect, Jue.”
“He is ain’t he.” Juelz agreed, his eyes still on their son before turning back to his wife. “You perfect.”
He leaned over and kissed her again, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of survival, of forgiveness, and of a love that had been dragged through hell and came out forged in steel. They had their scars, visible and invisible, but most importantly, they had each other. And finally, their son.
The End….