Chapter 34 #2
He was absolutely right. My wife was a boss with her own paper. She could make moves like this without any stress. She really was one of one.
Jazzy encouraged me to look inside the whip. She handed me the key card, and I opened the door. Right in the driver’s seat were two velvet boxes that were marked with the logo of our jeweler in the city. I looked back at her, and she shot me an encouraging nod.
I opened the first box, and inside was an iced-out Richard Millie watch.
I had never been into watches, but J’Ru, Kaymen, and Priest put me onto a whole new wave, so I was building my collection.
I opened the next box, and she got me a big-ass, iced-out custom chain.
The pendant was of two hands holding a crown and was flooded with diamonds.
There were even sapphire gems mixed in there, which I automatically knew were a tribute to Saphir.
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, right?” She smirked at me.
I dapped her up with a smirk of my own. “You damn fucking right!” She really was my twin flame. There was no question about it.
“Sis went crazy!” Priest gassed while everyone else cheered.
I pulled her right into my chest. Even when my world was crumbling, she managed to hold me up without me even asking. “I love you, yo. More than I can put into words,” I professed to her before crashing my lips into hers.
“Forever?”
“Forever and after that.”
Our family and friends ain’t have no sense of time, so we ended up back on the rooftop partying.
I knew from the outside looking in, shit looked amazing, but on the inside, I was fucked up.
I figured I enjoyed my party enough and showed my wife my appreciation for her putting everything together for me.
I walked over to my sisters, who were having a good time.
It was nice to see that no matter the distance between us, we could still kick it like old times.
Khadijah was in the midst of dropping it down and getting her eagle on. She was always the life of the party wherever she went. Niema was hyping her up alongside the other ladies.
“Yo, Dijah, nobody tryna see that shit.” I screwed my face up like I smelled shit.
“Boy, shut up. My sister still got it!” Niema nudged me.
In laughter, Khadijah popped back up and high fived her. “It ain’t never left.”
I smacked my lips. As the little brother, it was just certain shit I didn’t wanna see. My big sister dropping it low and spreading it wide was one of them. “If you got all the Freaknik out of you, I need to holla at y’all.”
“Little nigga, did you just call me old?”
“Aye, you said it.”
She punched my arm as I laughed just like old times.
I took both of their hands and pulled them off the dance floor.
The rest of the ladies all groaned while claiming I was being a party-pooper since Khadijah and Niema had them lit.
It was nice to see that my sisters had fallen right in line with my extended family.
Hopefully, after this, we could see each other more.
“This party was so fun, Keem!” Niema cheered excitedly.
“‘Preciate it, sis. I’m glad y’all enjoyed it.” I tossed my arms around both of their shoulders before kissing their foreheads. Despite being the baby brother, I stood taller than them, making me look like the older brother. “I got some shit I need to tell y’all.”
Instantly, Khadijah snapped into big sister mode and cupped her hands around my face. “You okay? What’s the matter?”
“I’m good, Dijah. I just wanted to let y’all know, a little while ago, I got a phone call, and it was the coroner’s office. They told me Pops is dead.”
We grew up in a household where we never beat around the bush. No matter how hard the conversation was, we tore the fucking band-aid off and gave it to each other straight.
I recalled the moment my mother told us she had cancer. She just flat out told us. No tears, no long sob story, kinda like we were having casual conversation.
Gasps fled out of both of my sisters. “What?!” Niema bellowed while clutching her chest.
She was the sensitive one of the bunch. She carried each and every emotion and feeling known to man.
When she was hurt, she felt everything. Tears already were cascading down her face.
Her outburst garnered some eyes from the other guests.
They were probably confused as fuck about how my sisters went from being the life of the party to being distraught.
“Ahkeem, when… h-how?” Khadijah cried.
“I don’t know. I don’t got the details. They want me—us—to come down and identify the body.”
I was a little conflicted with their reactions. Had they stepped in and helped me like I begged them to, maybe Pops would have had a fighting chance with his alcoholism. I guess them taking a step back didn’t mean they loved him any less than I did.
From across the rooftop, my wife shot me a sympathetic look. I mouthed “I got it” to her, indicating that she didn’t need to come over. I had been bearing the weight of everyone else’s grief for a long time. This shit was no different.
My sisters were in full tears as I kept my arms around them. Kaymen peeped, and with the okay from Jazzy, he got on the mic and let everyone know the night had come to an end.
Even after everyone cleared out, my sisters were still hysterical.
The only people remaining on the rooftop were us and Jazzy.
“Keem, I’m so sorry. I should’ve come out here when you called me at the beginning of the year.
I just couldn’t stomach seeing him like that,” Khadijah apologized while dabbing her wet face with a napkin.
“You think I could? Pops was my fucking hero, my role model. Seeing him turn into a drunk wrecked me, but I still tried to show up. I ran him down whenever he would go ghost. I checked him into rehab. Gave him money, food, clothes, even cleaned him up. Pops just wanted to be numb after he lost Mama. I tried telling him that there was so much more life to live. I got a family he never got to meet. Y’all kids probably don’t even remember him.
He didn’t care. All he wanted was to be with Ma. ”
“And he’s finally with her,” Niema sobbed into her hands. “Ahkeem, we’re sorry we left you to deal with it on your own. That was fucked up. I just thought eventually he would get it together.”
I smacked my lips. “How, when you all the way in L.A and Khadijah out in Atlanta? I kept telling him he got family, but all he ever saw was me. Y’all never tried. Couldn’t even call to check on him.”
“Ahkeem, he never kept a stable number. How could we have called?”
“Dijah, stop making excuses ‘cause you’re gonna piss me the fuck off. See my wife?” I pointed to Jazzy, who was sitting at a table waiting for us to finish our conversation.
“She doesn’t have her parents either, but she got family who will show up for her no matter the circumstances…
blood or not. One call, and her brother, sister-in-law, friends, whoever…
they show up for her no questions asked.
Before I got with her, I ain’t have that shit.
I was down bad grieving Mama, couldn’t find Pops, and y’all picked up and skated.
They showed me family is who shows up for you, not always who’s your blood.
I could call anybody who was just here at this party, and they would drop whatever they’re doing to show up for me.
That’s all I wanted from y’all. It was never about no fucking money.
I wasn’t asking y’all to give up the new lives y’all built with your husbands and kids.
I just needed y’all to show up. Let him see y’all face and hear y’all voices so he would know he had more people than just me rooting for him.
We can’t go back in time, but I would be a fool to just let y’all sweep this shit under the rug.
If y’all hurt, imagine how the fuck I feel. ”
“Ahkeem, we’re sorry. But we’re here now.” Khadijah looked at me with the most apologetic eyes I’d ever seen. She was genuinely sorry, and I couldn’t do shit but accept that shit. It was too late, though. Wasn’t anything going to bring our father back.
The air in the coroner’s office was cold as fuck, and it had this odd smell to it as if they were trying their best to mask the scent of death. I hated that shit. We sat patiently in the waiting area together, Khadijah to my right and Niema to my left.
After all the crying they did last night, I was surprised that they were keeping it together as much as they were at the moment.
Khadijah was the calmest. Always had been.
Her back was straight as she stared steadily at the wall a few feet away from us.
I was just like her. I accepted death for what it was and tried my best to figure out how to move past it.
Niema, on the other hand, was bouncing her leg up and down rapidly with her arms folded tight against her chest. She had her jaw clenched like she was chewing on words she refused to let out, almost like she knew what she wanted to say was gonna open a big-ass can of worms.
Me? I felt hollow as fuck. Numb. Just like my father felt for all those years without my mother.
“Hendrix.” All three of us rose from our seats in unison. “Follow me,” the attendant instructed with a clipboard in hand.
Niema’s hand clenched around mine, and instinctively, I grabbed Khadijah’s hand. Together, we followed him through a long hallway that was narrow with beaming white overhead lights.
We stopped in front of a thick steel door. He turned around to face us before eyeing each of us. “I just need to confirm… are you all ready?”
“He’s that fucked up?” I blurted out. I wanted to know what to expect, whether my father would be having a closed or open casket.
“Just cautionary procedure.”
We all nodded our heads, and as the oldest, Khadijah answered verbally for us. “Yes, we’re ready.”
He opened the door. We instantly got hit with even colder air compared to the air in the hallway.
The room was brighter and freakishly clean.
I could see his body lying on the cold slab with a white sheet pulled over him.
His frame was unmistakable. I got my height and build from him.
I could spot my pops anywhere. Even before the sheet was pulled back, I just knew it was him.
We stood together while the attendant proceeded to pull the sheet back slowly.
There he was.
Kareem Mahamed Hendrix
My father.
His face was bruised, and all the color in his rich chocolate skin had been depleted. On his chest, where he had my mother’s name followed by all of our names tatted, were the puncture marks of four bullet holes. I assumed the one that took him out was the one closest to his heart.
Niema sucked in a sharp breath before a heavy wail sounded from her. Her knees buckled, and I caught her before she could hit the floor. “Oh my God,” she sobbed. “That’s… that’s him.”
Khadijah took a step closer; her eyes scanned him carefully like she needed to further confirm if it was our father who laid lifeless on the metal slab.
She pressed her plump lips together, and for the first time today, her composure cracked.
Her head dropped and her shoulders sulked. It was finally hitting her.
Niema finally found the strength to go join Khadijah. Me, I hung behind. I was my father’s twin, so seeing him dead felt like staring in the fucking mirror. I wanted to live forever. I couldn’t imagine leaving Saphir and Jazzlyn in this world without me.
Niema noticed I remained behind. She extended her hand to me, and I just would’ve felt like shit if I didn’t take it.
I set my hand into hers and joined them next to our father.
Up close, he looked smaller. Not the man who used to flex his muscles whenever he would grab all the groceries from the car all in one trip.
Or even the drunk nigga who bopped around the streets looking for a come up to buy some liquor.
The more I stared, the more flashes of him crossed my mind.
Him smoothly dancing behind my mama while trying to steal fresh pieces of fried chicken she was cooking for dinner.
Him catering to her every need during the entire duration of her illness.
How he would smile because he knew that would be the only way to make her smile.
As odd as it sounded, I heard his voice in that moment.
He had a distinctive voice. It was raspy and rugged, yet tender and warm.
I could hear him telling me, “You know what, Ahkeem? You’re right. I gotta get right for my grandkids.”
I loved my father.
That was the fucked-up part about it. I thought my tough love would get him straight.
It didn’t. It just pushed him more toward drinking.
I wished our last conversation went different.
I was two-and-oh when it came to fucking up final moments with my parents before they passed away.
Instead of hemming him up and threatening to fuck him up, I should’ve hugged him and told him how much I loved him.
“You tried,” Khadijah whispered while squeezing my shoulder. I was so in my thoughts that I didn’t even realize tears had cascaded from my eyes.
“I know… He tried too… He just couldn’t stand living without Mama.”
“They robbed him. For what? What kind of money he had?” Niema questioned.
I bit down on my bottom lip as guilt began to sink in. “I gave him money. $3,000 to be exact. He said he was moving to Louisiana to better himself. Told him I ain’t wanna ever see him back in the city unless he got his shit together.”
“Don’t guilt yourself. You didn’t know this would happen.”
“He didn’t deserve this. He shouldn’t have gone out like this,” Niema cried.
“He was trying to drink himself into the grave. He didn’t have the courage to flat out end it on his own. They took his life but gave him what he wanted,” Khadijah stated with a shake of her head. We watched her crane down and kiss our father’s forehead. “Love you, Daddy. Say hi to Mama for me.”
Niema was next. She did the same, her tears dropping right onto his cold body.
Then it was my turn. I felt like my heart had been gutted. Yeah, Kareem got what he wanted, but I felt like I was left out in the cold again.
“I’m sorry for the shit I said to you during our last conversation. I love you so much, Pops. I just wanted you to do better… be better. I know you’re where you wanna be now, with who you wanna be with. Kiss Ma for me and watch over us.”
I kissed his forehead before saying goodbye.
The attendant pulled the sheet back over him, and that was it.
It was officially goodbye… forever.