Chapter 8
EIGHT
Posydiann
Days later…
The first few hours after she left, I felt like I was losing my mind.
Every space in my home held a piece of her, and somehow her storming out of that door was ingrained in my brain.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face.
I saw the exact moment I not only broke myself, but I broke her too.
I got no relief in my dreams because all I saw was her and I was unable to touch her.
She was mine and I couldn’t be with her.
I couldn’t because I knew how much pain I was about to cause her.
Charles Curr had to die, and I had to be the one to do it, but first I needed to know why.
I was never a saint, and I didn’t claim to be one, but the only static I knew of with Curr was his desire to own Watertown.
I stood in the way of that. If it was that, then why not put the hit on me?
None of this made sense because what the fuck did my uncle have to do with any of this?
I was leaving the kitchen headed to the living room when I heard the front door open. I looked up just as I sat down. My mother stood in the doorway, her expression questioning my stillness.
“Have you eaten?” she asked, closing the door behind herself and continuing in.
I shook my head. “Not hungry,” I replied, staring blankly at the sports recaps on the TV.
“You’re lovesick.”
I looked from the TV to her, blinking a few times before I shook my head. “I’m good.” I was lying, I was the furthest from good. I didn’t realize how much I loved Karsyn until she walked out of that door. She didn’t know it, but she had taken my heart as well.
“Nah you’re not. So you need to go fix whatever you broke.”
“It ain’t that easy, Ma.” I looked at her from the TV.
“When it comes to matters of the heart, it never is, but if you love her like I know you do, you’ll fix it.”
I didn’t acknowledge what she said; I just looked at the TV.
She left because I heard the door when it closed. I never looked up to see for sure. My eyes were glued to the screen, watching with absolutely nothing in mind.
Hours later I heard the door open again. I refused to look toward it because I didn’t feel like being bothered.
“Yo, you're sitting here looking like a straight bitch. Been sitting in the same damn spot for days. You pitiful, man.” Killah’s voice made my jaw tense.
“Oh what, you're ignoring me? Ma Dukes called me, said you were in here about to waste away.”
I shook my head. “Gon’ ahead, man.”
“Nope. When we talked the other day, I knew you was fucked up, but to come in here, break up with your girl, then sit here like she left you is wild as fuck, man.”
I didn’t respond. I tightened my eyes, glaring at the TV.
“Here, you don’t wanna talk, but you at least gotta eat.” He set a white paper bag down on the coffee table in front of me. “And you’re gonna listen to me bitch about your decisions, ’cause now I feel fucked up about the fact that I’m about to go fuck on the islands while you sit here like this.”
I blinked, allowing my eyes to stay closed for too long, thinking about when I told Syn I’d take her on vacation, way before all this took place.
Killah continued into the kitchen, then I heard paper rattling before he returned and placed a fork in my lap and continued to the other end of the sectional. Out of my peripheral vision I watched him take a seat and glance over at me.
“Yo, why don’t you just call her, man?”
“And what is that gonna solve?” I turned my head in his direction, glaring. “I still gotta kill her pops.”
Killah shrugged. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m not seeing what the fuck that has to do with you and her.”
“Everything. That’s her fucking daddy, Killah.”
“And you’re the nigga she loves. Ain’t you the same one who said she doesn’t fuck with him?”
“But that’s her blood.”
Killah shook his head and began to dig into his food.
“You and I know firsthand how blood doesn't mean shit, especially in this game of life. Yo’ problem ain’t the fact that he’s her blood, but instead the fact that you scared she wouldn’t choose you over him.
Own that shit and stop sitting up here acting bitchmade. ”
“Fuck you.”
He shrugged. “I said what I said, now eat your fucking food so I can tell Ma you ate and we had a conversation before I left.”
I flipped him off and damn sure didn’t reach for the food he brought, no matter how good it smelled.
I wasn’t hungry, and truth be told, I wasn’t too interested in anything right now.
I couldn’t explain it, but everything hurt.
Compared to getting shot, this was worse.
There was no skin-deep wound or open, oozing hole.
This was a body-aching throb, like the chills hitting me over and over.
I remembered telling her she couldn’t quit me because I was like the most potent drug in the streets, the type that made you feel like going cold turkey would kill you.
Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and damn sure couldn’t think.
Even the faintest of scent of her made my chest tightened.
Fuck feeling like a bitch, I felt like I was going through the very withdrawals fiends and addicts went through when they tried to go cold turkey.
“But that’s her father, Killah,” I said out of nowhere.
He paused, looking away from his phone to me. “The problem is you’re too caught up on titles. You don’t fuck with him and neither does she. Way I see it is you’re handling somebody neither one of y’all fuck with. So again I ask, what the fuck does that have to do with you and her being together?”
The way he shrugged like it was nothing at the end of his statement made me let out an involuntary chuckle. “There really is something wrong with you.”
“Nah. I just logic things a little differently than most. But either way, don’t be on no stupid shit while I’m gone. We’ll deal with it when the dust settles.”
For a while I sat there staring at the TV, half listening to him because the truth was he was right.
I broke things off with Karsyn because I didn’t think I could take her choosing Curr over me.
I didn’t think I could take her choosing anybody over me, so in a selfish typa way I took that choice from her before she ever knew she had it.
She didn’t have to choose me because she no longer had me.
I didn’t know how long I sat on the couch, barely paying attention to anything.
I went from SportsCenter to about fifteen commercials to Monday Night Countdown then more commercials.
I got up to take a shower during the college basketball highlights, telling myself I needed to get out of the house.
By that time Killah was gone and Junior was somewhere between the two houses.
Time really wasn’t of the essence for me, considering I didn’t know if I was coming or going.
“You headed out, Pops?” Junior asked, interrupting my thoughts. I was in my closet getting dressed.
“Yeah, I shouldn’t be long. Do you need something?”
“No. You alright?” His question halted my movement, making me look up in his direction. Worry rested in his eyes.
“Nah. But I’ll get there.”
He nodded. “Okay?” He stood there for a moment, then he left to go to his bedroom.
I finished getting dressed, grabbed my phone and keys, then headed out of the back door to the garage. On the walk I pulled my phone out, searching for Iso’s contact before I clicked to call.
He answered three rings later.
“Psy, you good?” he asked.
“Yeah, I need to spit with you about something. Are you out this way to talk?”
“Yeah, over here at Li’s folks’ place. I’ll drop a pin.”
“Bet.” We hung up immediately after. I was in the car a few seconds later, pressing the button to lift the garage door. I pulled out at the same time my phone alerted me of a message.
Iso had dropped the pin and the location he sent was in Lower Briar, not too far from where I was. It was on the cusp of Lower and Uptown, so it would only be a fifteen-minute ride.
It was messed up that the entire drive over there I wanted to call her.
Everything in me wanted to pull up to her place and apologize.
Shit, even tell her why I did what I did, but contrary to what Killah said, the fact still stood.
Curr was her father and nothing was as black and white as he made it sound.
Of course I knew she didn’t fuck with her father, and that was something talked about.
We didn’t discuss the nigga often, but she talked to me and over the years he wasn’t a father to her or her brother, but the facts were the facts, he was her pops.
I pulled up right in front of the house where Iso had dropped the location. When I pulled up he was walking down the driveway holding a toddler. I got out of the car, headed in his direction.
When I walked up, my eyes immediately went from him to the mean-faced little girl in his hands. She was chubby cheeked as fuck but looked just like him all the way down to the eyes and that mug I could see even with the sun setting.
“Damn, this what you been up to?” I asked, genuinely elated for him. He’d left the streets alone and found more than a purpose.
He chuckled. “Pretty much, between trying to be the father I never had, I’m working on opening the barbershop back up. What’s up though, fool?”
I shook my head. “Long story, a lot of mess and apparently I’ve encountered something that hurts worse than getting shot.”
He laughed. “Oh yeah, clue me in so I won’t run up on it.”
“Different conversation for a different time, bro, but I need to ask you about some NorthPark Boys?”
Iso laughed. “NorthPark Riders… Backwards ass biker gang. Ran by some goofy nigga named Dwight. His grandmother runs the laundromat in Lee’s strip mall and his wife owns a taco truck. It’s always parked across Hollis near the train tracks.”
I nodded. “Bet, I’ma head over there.”
“Nahh. Where is Killah?” he asked, looking between me and the house.