Chapter 5 #3
When I made it to the door, I put the code in and walked inside.
The fresh smell of laundry hit my nostrils as I came out of my shoes and then headed towards the living room.
My feet across the smooth marble floors glided and the kid in me couldn’t resist doing a little slide down the hallway.
Either it was the kid in me or the liquor.
Whatever the case, I did a little ‘skating’ motion until I made it to the drop into the living room.
I was surprised to see that First Lady wasn’t there. The TV was off too.
Plopping down on the couch, I tossed my head back against the soft material and closed my eyes.
As soon as I did, I saw Meech’s face and those wild ass locs.
Swallowing, I sat in the memory. I didn’t shake it away.
Didn’t run from it. Didn’t jump up to distract myself.
I just let it be. It was of him the day he died.
My view was from his bedrooms doorway. He was moments from pulling his shiesty down over his face.
I swallowed again as I thought about giving him the crystal.
On instinct, my hand went to it. I wore it around my neck all of the time now.
I had several crystals but this one? It never left my neck.
Not since I got it back from the coroner.
I took a deep breath and remembered the prayer.
Remembered asking not only God but the ancestors to help keep his intuition and awareness sharp.
I clenched down on my teeth and tears wet the backs of my eyes as I thought about how that didn’t happen.
That familiar pain hit me in the chest. A pain I was reunited with the minute that doctor told me Meech didn’t make it.
I hated it. Hated it so much that before I knew it, I’d pulled my knees up on the couch and had wrapped my arms around myself.
My head, however, stayed tossed back against that couch cushion.
I cried. Silent tears that wet my entire face, flowing from my eyes like the Nile river.
I gulped and pulled my lips into my mouth to muffle my groans.
I was hurt. I was in so much pain, bro, that I held back.
I felt like if I cried for real, I’d erupt.
The gut-wrenching cry that would come from my soul would be earth-shattering.
I was afraid to cry for real so… I just cried enough.
While I was in the middle of my moment, the couch moved.
Someone sat down. I gasped, held my breath and squeezed my eyes tighter shut.
Exodus. I didn't need to hear his voice or open my eyes to know that it was him.
I smelled him the minute he sat down. I was embarrassed.
Drunk, emotional, and embarrassed. What the hell was I doing?
I should have taken my ass to my bedroom.
Crying in a common area was such a rookie mistake.
A rookie mistake for someone who was used to hiding her emotions was grave.
A second later, I felt a strong arm drape over my shoulder before he pulled me in closer to his side.
I swallowed as that sense of calmness washed over me.
The one from before. That feeling I needed the other day…
where I hugged myself instead. That feeling.
Something I could get used to. But I wouldn’t.
I couldn’t. Not wanting to get used to it had nothing to do with him being Exodus.
It had everything to do with people in general.
If there was one thing life’s taught me these twenty-one years it was that you shouldn’t get attached to people.
They leave. They die. That realization made living in the moment hard.
So difficult that I tried to pull away from his embrace, but he stopped me. Held me tighter and rubbed on my arm.
I cried harder.
Not because the pain of Meech’s death hit me again, but because of this.
Because of the truth. Reality. That thing about not getting used to people.
The feeling of being with them. I couldn’t attach myself to Exodus or the way he made me feel.
Life was too fragile. Too unpredictable.
Too… screwed up. We all died. Life was… it was pointless in that sense.
“Please… let me go,” I said through a cry.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t listen neither.
Just tightened his grip on me. And instead of pulling away, I leaned in further.
Moved my head over to the middle of his chest where I could hear the steady thumping of his heart.
I softened the way I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Exodus felt so got damn good. Comforting and not only because he had his arms wrapped around me.
Just in general. His woodsy scent. His… aura.
His energy. It was infectious. It was alluring.
Captivating in a way that made me want to drown in it. I just… I never felt anything like it.
We sat in silence with me crying in his arms for a while. When I got here, the sun was getting ready to set. By time I moved, it had gone down. The house was darker. Still and quiet with the exception of his breathing and my sniffling.
“Sorry,” I apologized, sitting up, against the back of the couch.
“Sorry for what? I don’t fuck with that word,” he blatantly said, before looking down at his wet t-shirt with a snort. He brushed it off, as if doing so would get rid of the tears and looked over at me. “If you’re apologizing about crying, you have nothing to apologize about.”
I motioned towards his shirt. “Your shirt.”
“Straight. Not damaged. It did its job.”
I frowned. “It did its job?”
“Hell yeah,” he said with a smirk. “Caught a river of tears.”