Chapter 7 #2
Not that I needed validation about my husband, but I just really wanted everyone around me to see what I saw in Ahk. I was used to making the wrong decisions most of the time. Being with Ahk was one of the first things I did right.
“He wants a baby, Cyro.”
He whistled as if I dropped a heavy load on him. If he felt like that, imagine how I felt. “You ready for that?”
“Not now. Kids are a big deal. Not to mention my mother was horrible. What if I suck at it?”
“You won’t be. Look at who you have around you. Britain, Jadey, Aja, Tasha, and your cousin Nia are great mothers. You’re gonna wanna live up to that. Pray on it.”
I let what Cyro said to me linger in my mind long enough that I got lost in my thoughts.
It wasn’t until he shifted the gear into Park that I was able to snap back into reality.
Glancing out of the window, I realized we were in the projects Priest and I grew up in.
“Nymir stayed here?” I mumbled more to myself; however, Cyro overheard me.
“Yeah. This the address Ahk sent me.”
I wasn’t like my brother. I never liked visiting my past because it was just too many heavy-ass memories to navigate through.
I made sure to never step foot back in these projects once we got put out of them when I was a kid.
I avoided it at all costs, not because I thought I was better, but because it was just too much of a fucking reminder of my parents.
“You good? You don’t have to go in there if you don’t want to.” He looked at me through the mirror.
What did I look like telling my husband I didn’t fall through because I couldn’t face my trauma that should have been resolved years ago when my parents died? I took a deep breath and grabbed my purse. “Let’s go.”
Cyro didn’t object and got out to open the door for me.
He walked behind me, guarding me with his tall and built frame as we crossed the courtyard that all of our things were tossed onto when we got kicked out.
It was still run down, littered with trash and needles from motherfuckas who shot up dope.
I could feel everyone’s eyes sear into me as they tried to piece together why the fuck I was in their hood walking around with security.
We made it inside the building, and a rat scurried past me, and I damn near jumped into Cyro’s arms. “You got soft on me? You letting rats scare you now?” he chuckled.
“That shit was big as fuck.”
We took the stairs ‘cause the elevator was out of order. I was thankful that I worked out ‘cause hitting six flights of stairs would have had old Jazzy winded. We found the door, and I knocked.
“Who is it?!” we heard from the other side of the door. It was a young voice, clearly not Nymir’s grandmother.
“Jazzlyn, a friend of Nymir.”
The locks interchanged, and I was faced with a young girl who couldn’t have been no older than nine. She reminded me a bit of myself when I was younger. Her hair was slicked back just like mine, and she had a striking pair of hazel eyes that she used to look me up and down.
“I never seen you before. How you my brother’s friend?” She set her hand on her hip. Clearly, she was running a strict program, and I had no choice but to fall in line.
“He was friends with my husband. I was hoping to talk to his grandmother, Mae.”
She ran her eyes over me again before looking over her shoulder. “Mimi, this rich lady at the door for you! Do I let her in?!”
“What damn rich lady, Tacarra?!” I heard Mae shout back.
“Come see!”
A few moments later, Mae came to the door and eyed me down the same way Tacarra had. “Can I help you?”
I stuck my hand out for her. “I’m Jazzlyn. My husband and I were friends of Nymir. I wanted to talk to you about covering his funeral and whatever else expenses you may need.”
“I already told your husband I don’t need his damn drug money. That’s what killed my grandson in the first place,” she snapped.
I could see the pain in her eyes as she tried her best to keep it together. She was up there in age, and I could tell she was tired. Not physically tired, but just emotionally tired. There was no telling how many devastating losses she suffered in her time. Nymir’s death may have been the hardest.
“I understand that right now is a hard time for you, but if you can, just give me a second. Your grandson was great man and was nothing but kind and respectful when I was around. Forget about him and my husband’s dealings. I just want to help.”
She stood firm at the door, internally debating whether she could trust me. Her eyes landed on Cyro, who remained behind him. “You can come in, but your big ole friend is gonna have to wait outside.”
Cyro was ready to snatch me up and tell me no, but I held my hand up at him, assuring it was fine. She stepped aside and let me in. She did what she could with the small apartment, even had a twin bed nestled behind the couch as an additional bedroom for one of the other children in the house.
The plastic on her couch let me know exactly who I was dealing with.
She was old school and didn’t take any shit.
She pointed for me to take a seat, and I did.
It was hot and humid inside the apartment; she tried her best to thin out the air with multiple fans and an open window.
She took a seat on a recliner next to me.
“Sorry about the heat. I know you ain’t used to being in these types of conditions where you’re from.”
I chuckled because I often got prejudged based on how I looked. “I’m actually from here. I was born and raised in this building until my mother got put out,” I enlightened her.
I could tell I surprised her. She would have never guessed. “Who was your mother and father, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the mention of my parents. It had been close to five years since they were put in the dirt, and I still hated them. “Terrence and Sylvia Barette.”
“Oh, I knew them. He used to knock her around like loose change in his pocket. They left for a long time, then came back before they died. Sorry for your loss.”
I shot her a tight-lipped smile. Clearly, she had no filter. Had I been mourning my parents, I would have been offended. “Thank you. Nymir was a good friend to my husband, and we would like to cover the cost of his funeral. How have things been coming along with that?” I shifted the conversation.
“He’s still in the morgue. Between bills and taking care of the rest of my grandchildren, I don’t know when he’ll be buried. My good friend Shonda is gonna help me with a fish fry to see if we can raise the money.”
I was getting somewhere with her. She seemed to trust me because I came from the very building she was living in. Knowing Ahk, he probably rolled up with his iced-out chains and watch on. He wasn’t a gaudy flexer, but he never toned himself down for anybody.
I shook my head. “That won’t be necessary.” I reached into my bag and pulled out my checkbook. I could feel her eyes seeping into me as I continued to write out the check. Once I finished, I tore it out of my book and handed it to her.
“Girl, you must be out of your damn mind! A funeral ain’t nothing but five thousand over at West Chapel Funeral Home.” Her eyes widened at the amount I wrote down on the check.
I laughed. “This is for Nymir’s funeral and whatever else you need.”
“Where we’re from, people don’t just hand out $25,000 without some sort of return.” She shifted her eyes from the check then to me.
“Your grandson meant more than that to my husband. Please let us know all about the funeral arrangements. We would love to attend to say our goodbyes.” I smiled lightly while jotting down Ahk’s and my phone numbers on a receipt I had in my purse.
She was in shock, but she managed to crack a smile that indicated she was relieved. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. Nymir was family. This is what you do for family.” I got up from my seat and gave her a hug. She didn’t hug me back at first, but when she did, I could tell she really needed the embrace. I bid her a goodbye and was heading to the door to leave.
“How’s your sister?” she asked from behind me, stopping me in my tracks.
I laughed lightly. “You mean my brother, Priest? He’s great.”
She looked at me like I had two heads. Her brows bumped together as she shook her head.
“No, I meant your sister. Last time I seen her, she was cleaning up your parents’ unit after they died.
She’s tall, light, with gorgeous, long, black hair, just like you.
I forgot her name.” She snapped her fingers while trying her best to have her memory serve her right.
“Ms. Mae, I don’t have a sister. It was only Priest and me,” I corrected her.
“I remember your brother. He’s the one who was all over the news.
But I could’ve sworn a young lady was moving things out of your parents’ unit upstairs.
When we spoke, she told me her father had been murdered, and she was just collecting his things before the super threw it all out in the courtyard,” she persisted.
I recalled Priest and I getting multiple calls from the super to clear out the apartment after the crime scene clean-up crew lifted my parents’ bodies.
We never got around to doing it simply because we didn’t give a fuck to.
There was nothing of sentimental value in there for us.
Hell, we barely wanted to plan the extravagant funeral we fucking gave them.
I turned around to face her with a puzzled look on my face. “You still can’t remember her name?”
Defeat masked her face as she shook her head. “No, but it’ll come to me. I have your number when it does.”
I wanted to pressure her to try harder but went against it. I thanked her before telling her goodbye once more, then leaving. Cyro remained at the door waiting on me. He noticed the distant look on my face immediately. “Fuck happened?”
I looked up at him. “It went well, but Cyro I think I have a sister.”
“What?”
“She told me some chick came to get all of Terrance’s stuff from his apartment after him and Sylvia died. Claimed she was his daughter,” I explained to him as we walked down the flights of stairs.
Cyro smacked his lips. “Let that shit go. She ain’t coming around asking for nothing or fucking with you, so ain’t no need to go looking for her.”
I agreed with him. My parents died almost five years ago.
If this so-called sister really wanted to connect, she would have made the effort.
I was all over the news when they were covering the murder until the case went cold.
Kaymen had coached me to grieve like my parents and I had a great relationship, and I did just that.
I gave the city a show with the crocodile tears I let out.
I was sure whoever my sister was, she saw it.
She clearly didn’t want to be bothered, and honestly, neither did I.
“You’re right.”
“Still tell PJ, though. You know how that nigga gets when he’s left in the dark about some shit.” He chuckled as he held the door open for me to get back into the car.
I did just that and sent him a text.
Jazzy: Apparently, I have a sister. You know anything about that?
PJ: Stop playing on my phone Jazzy. I’m working. I’m your only sibling.
Jazzy: Deadass. Let me know when you’re free.
PJ: Heard’ju