Percy
“I know it’s late, Ms. Cecily, but I need some advice.”
She had always been helpful when it came to clearing a nigga’s head. When Jesaiah and I would go out and make bad decisions or even think about getting into some shit, she would find ways to talk us out of it. She knew how to put things in perspective.
When she let me inside, the jazz music she played calmed my nerves almost immediately.
“What’s going on? I see you left the house.”
I turned to look at her. “Yeah, well, your nephew ruined that as he has done many other things.”
She gave me a weak smile as she tightened the grip on her robe and nodded for me to sit down. “Jesaiah is filled with anger because of his bad decisions. His time to face the truth will come, but you cannot let his actions mix with your situation.”
I sat down and placed my elbow on my knees.
“I’m out here trying, Ms. Cecily. I really am.
I have an opportunity to get back on the field and finish school.
I’ve been offered the option to give my daughter a home, but I’m scared.
I don’t want her to forget me, but I also don’t want to ruin a family’s dream if I decide to get her back. ”
Ms. Cecily came and sat beside me. Her gentle rub on my back reminded me of my Nan.
Suddenly, my tired, stressed eyes poured tears out of me.
My shoulders bounced up and down because I didn’t know what else to do.
Dio said he would set up the play, and that was cool, but me giving up my daughter to only want to take her back was a fucked-up situation.
“My brother felt the same way about Jesaiah, but he knew what was best. Sometimes you have to exclude yourself and think about your child. Now I’m not telling you to do it or not. What I’m saying is you know what your daughter needs. Let me make you some tea.”
She got up and went into the kitchen. I had only been here a handful of times, but each time I came, I noticed something new. This time, I saw something and became so confused. I leaned forward and grabbed the picture on the table.
“Aye, Ms. Cecily, who’s this?”
“What did you say, sweetheart?”
I pointed to the picture. “These people with Jesaiah?”
She smiled. “That was the happiest day of Jesaiah’s life. It was the first time he met his mother’s side of the family,” she explained as she came over and took the picture frame out of my hand.
I stood and pointed to the only person in this picture I cared about. “Who is that?”
“Oh, that’s Royce. Jesaiah’s cousin. You know she goes to the school too. It’s a shame what happened to that family. They—”
“I got to go,” I mumbled.
My mind was blown. How did I not know any of this? I had left my daughter with a woman who had been hiding the fact that a nigga’s ex-best friend was her cousin.