54. Corinthians #3
I got out of my car to see my cousins and sister sitting on our grandparents’ porch.
They looked tired, like life had beaten their asses over the past few days, and to a degree it had.
Since finding out what Psalms and I had gone through as kids, my phone has been ringing nonstop.
They wanted names, locations, possible connections.
Their questions were valid, never accusatory or demeaning.
They wanted revenge.
“Took you long enough to get here,” Exodus said.
“How did you know I was coming?” I asked, locking my car doors. I approached the porch but didn’t move to go up the steps. I still didn’t know how I felt about being here, but I knew I needed to talk to my grandparents.
“Four,” Psalms answered. I looked over at her and lifted my brow. She nodded, and I turned around to see his truck pulling up.
Uri parked his truck, got out, and leaned against it. When I left the house, he was in his office working. I’d told him where I was going and that I would be back. It had taken me longer to get here than it should’ve. I intentionally drove around before finally getting the courage to get here.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Psalms, then walked away. I crossed the street and went into Uri’s arms. He pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. “You didn’t have to call them.”
“I know,” he chuckled. “But you want them there.”
“I do,” I agreed and nodded. “Thank you.” I lifted to my tiptoes and kissed him. “You coming in?”
“Nah,” he denied, shaking his head. “This is a conversation y’all need to have. Just know when you’re done, I’ll be out here waiting.”
“Okay,” I said, then kissed him again. This one was more passionate than the first one.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down to my level and deepening the kiss.
Only pulling away when I felt my pussy start to throb and I moaned.
The last thing I needed to do was walk into my grandparents' house, hot and horny.
I wiped my lipstick from his bottom lip, then walked back across the street.
“I’m going to say this because I know I ain’t the only person who’s wondering,” Krude said once I was standing next to Psalms.
“What?” I sighed, knowing that whatever he was going to say was going to be outlandish.
“How you get that nigga to stop stuttering?” he asked with a serious expression.
“You really want to know?” Psalms and Judge asked him at the same time.
He looked from Psalms to Judge, then to me. “You fucked it out of him?” His eyes ballooned, and he covered his mouth with his hand.
Even though I didn’t want to, I laughed so hard that I started crying. My cousins and sisters joined in while Krude continued to stare at me with a shocked expression.
“Let it go, Krude,” I said, finally getting myself together. “Please let it go.”
“Let it go?” he yelled, then threw his hands up. “Are you serious right now? You expect me to let that go? I thought he had a disability. You know, like it was serious, serious, not just regular serious shit.”
“What’s the difference?” Judge asked him.
“You know black folks don’t care nothing about a disability.
We treat everyone fairly; you might not be able to talk, but you can follow directions and shit.
You know what I mean?” he asked, and I hated to admit it, but he was right.
More times than not, black people didn’t treat a child with a disability any differently.
We met them where they were, but their expectations to be a good person were no different.
“Is that why you call him King Beatbox and Chopped and Screwed?” Exodus asked.
Krude nodded and smiled proudly. “Fuck yeah,” he answered. “That nigga gets a nickname just like everybody else.”
“Four is his nickname,” Exodus reminded him.
“I don’t like that shit,” he said, waving him off.
“Now back to you, you fucked the stutter out that nigga so I gotta go snitch.” He turned around, unlocked the front door, and walked into the house.
“Madea, OG! Yo granddaughter out here doing the Lord's work! She is performing miracles and healing people with disabilities. King Beatbox don’t stutter no more! She humped it outta him!”
“He needs a trusted adult with him at all times,” Judge sighed. “There’s no way he’s out in public alone and doesn’t do shit.”
“He has a wife,” Exodus said, reminding him. “She’s doing the Lord’s work and will be blessed for it.”
“She procreated with him,” Judge countered. “She ain’t all the way in there either.”
We walked into the house; Krude was still fussing but now about something else.
I took a deep breath and followed behind my sister and cousins.
When I got to the living room, Madea and Granddaddy were sitting next to each other, listening to whatever Krude was talking about. Their attention went from him to me.
“Oh, so just ignore me, huh?” Krude fussed when he realized they weren’t paying him any attention. “Just fuck what I gotta say?” Madea waved him off, then got up and approached me.
I expected to feel anger or hatred towards her, but I didn’t. I felt the same love and safety that I always had. She’d done what she promised, and that was to take care of whatever was hurting me. My issues weren’t with her or Granddaddy. It was with Robert and everything that he had done to me.
Madea stood in front of me but didn’t touch me. I pulled her into a hug and held on to her tightly. She kissed the side of my face, and I could feel her tears as they fell from her eyes and landed on me.
“Oh, so you just gonna kiss on her like I didn’t just tell you she humped the stutter out of King Beatbox?” Krude fussed. “You just hard-headed!”