Chapter 12
DUKE
I laid in bed with my hands clasped behind my head, eyes to the ceiling, thinking instead of sleeping.
I did a lot of that these days. I couldn’t help it.
No matter what I did, at the end of the night, I always ended up like this.
In my fuckin head, thinking about my family and about what I’d done with Talia.
That was two days ago, and the shit was eating at me viciously.
I sighed, shook my head, and rolled over for my phone sitting on the nightstand.
When I found myself staring at the ceiling for too long, thinking about bad shit, I liked to go back to better times.
I liked to go through the pictures and videos on my phone.
Sometimes it made me feel better, other times it made me feel worse.
I didn’t know what side of the spectrum I’d be on tonight, on a day that had been rougher than the others.
I was in my feelings heavy as hell. On one hand, I wanted to ride to the crib and beg for my wife but on the other hand, I felt like I didn’t have the right to do that.
I felt like… shit… life… it pushed me to make a bad decision.
Life and too much drinking and smoking. If I was consciously aware, I would have never fucked Talia.
And if I wasn’t hurting as bad as I was hurting, I would have left Tank’s crib a lot sooner.
Would have never hit the blunt. Wouldn’t have lost count of how many drinks I had either.
I fucked up.
I fucked up majorly. Felt like I was just digging myself a bigger hole.
Like God really had turned his back on me now.
What leg did I have to stand on? There wasn’t one.
But then something in me stirred and I wanted to keep fighting.
Keep fighting for my marriage. Keep fighting for my life.
I wasn’t quite ready to give up just yet.
Time and distance would work in my favor.
Prayer too. I just hoped like hell that after everything, God was still listening.
I hit the photos app and scrolled for a good ten minutes before that ended up not being enough.
I wanted to know what her week had been like.
Wanted to see what she wore. How she wore her hair.
I hit the Ring app and decided to go through those videos as well.
A nigga was down bad, staring at a screen, wishing it was the real thing.
Last night she got home late. The time stamp said 11:33PM.
She was dressed up, like she’d been out.
I wondered where she’d been. Was tempted to exit the app and call her on some wild shit, but I decided not to.
I didn’t have the right to call checking her on shit, did I?
Plus, I was trying to give her space to not only calm down but to miss me too.
I felt like that would work. I felt like if she missed me enough, she’d start thinking straight and realize that this was something we could get through.
“Mr. Duke, I have to pee,” Diary said, interrupting my thoughts.
Mr. Duke. Yeah, I had Diary. Would have rather been alone during this time but because I had another responsibility, I had to make good on getting her when Ms. Rochelle called yesterday.
She was a nice distraction. Nothing like Honesty and Sparkle though.
She was quiet. Reserved. Always on her iPad, barely making a peep.
It was a crazy transition to go from a house full of noise to a hotel room with barely any of it.
I felt like she was only so quiet because she was still a little shy.
Couldn’t imagine a two-year-old really being as quiet as she was.
With a grunt, I sat the phone down and turned over on my side completely to hit the switch on the lamp.
“Go ahead—I’m right here.”
“It’s dark,” she mumbled.
I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom that wasn’t but a few feet away from us.
Staying in this hotel wasn’t ideal. I hated having to stay in it with her.
I wanted structure. I wanted something solid.
I wanted to give Diary her own bedroom and for her to be comfortable.
This shit was trash. I mean, the hotel was nice—very nice—wouldn’t have had her or myself in anything less than.
I meant the situation. Everything about it.
After hitting the light for her in the bathroom, I got back in the bed and let her handle her business. She was almost three and very capable of taking care of herself. Erika did a good job with her.
Grabbing my phone again, I felt like a weak ass nigga.
Didn’t want to be laid up watching videos of my family live their lives.
I wanted to be a part of it. Wanted to walk into the house to laughter and Sparkle jumping in my arms. Wanted to walk into the kitchen to Mahogany nursing a glass of Caymus, with that usual chip on her shoulder.
That chip on her shoulder that would, for the first time in a long time, sit right with me.
Only because I’d be in her presence. Only because we’d be working through this. I wouldn’t give a fuck about a chip.
Just as I was about to get off the app, something caught my eye. It wasn’t one of my kids, it wasn’t Mahogany… it was Justin and he was standing on my porch with Diary.
“What the fuck,” I mumbled, just as Diary flushed the toilet.
She walked out of the bathroom and I stopped her. “Ay, go wash your hands for me, baby girl.”
“Oops,” she said before pivoting, turning around to go back into the bathroom.
I sat up and turned the volume of the phone up.
What the fuck was this nigga doing at my crib?
With Diary? When the fuck did this… shit…
I looked at the timestamp. Aubry’s birthday.
I stared at the phone with a deep frown on my face, holding it with so much force, my hand shook.
This… that… he did this shit? He put me in this position?
I’d been pissed at moms all this time for no fucking reason?
I listened as he introduced Diary to Mahogany as my daughter and liked to fucking lose it.
I was heated. This nigga Justin was at my crib?
My heart raced as I got out of the bed and began to pace.
She’d known since Bry’s birthday and didn’t say shit?
The wheels in my mind started to turn and I wondered…
damn… what else had she been able to keep from me?
If she was able to hold something like this in for as long as she did…
what else was she holding on to? She was cool.
She was Mahogany… I mean, up until she was not.
Up until the night she asked. Before that she was…
shit was good. The day of the party, I was paranoid and shit yeah because her mood was a little erratic.
But I chalked it up to paranoia and she did a good ass job helping me come to that conclusion too.
Fuck was going on? As crazy as it might’ve been, this shit really played with my head, had me questioning everything about us and our marriage.
What was she waiting for? Was she planning to kill a nigga or something?
Being able to even keep something like that down for so long was wild as hell to me.
She been knew. I thought moms told her the same day. Come to find out… man what the fuck.
Diary walked out of the bathroom, shaking water off her hands, completely unaware of what she’d done to my life.
Nah, I was tripping. I couldn’t blame her.
She was innocent. I couldn’t blame anyone.
This shit… all of it… was on me. Even the fuck nigga showing up at my crib.
Fuck he find out where I rested my head at anyway?
The timing of me finding out was perfect though, low key. I had to take Diary back tomorrow. If God gave even an inkling of a fuck about me, he’d let that nigga be there too.
The next day, we were up bright and early.
We got dressed and I ordered breakfast from Door Dash.
All night and morning, a nigga was anxious as hell to leave.
Couldn’t leave when I wanted to because Ms. Rochelle had a doctor’s appointment so I had to wait for her to get back to the crib before I could drop Diary off.
Shit had me on edge. Waiting for the opportunity to see dawg.
It was up. No words, straight action when I saw him.
Regardless of what the fuck was going on, what he did was foul. Type of nigga was he? Straight bitch.
I was going to handle my business when I saw fit, him sticking his nose in business that had nothing to do with him was out of line.
It was aight though. I’d been itching to put hands on the nigga since I met him.
I knew it was something about him off back.
He had some serious hate in his heart for me over what?
I didn’t know. Didn’t give a fuck neither.
What I did give a fuck about was him spending time with Diary.
We had an arrangement. I got her during the week and while she spent time with Ms. Rochelle, Justin could come by and see her.
After the shit he pulled, I was starting to think like nah…
he didn’t need to have access to my daughter.
Not on no ho shit neither. What he did was reckless as hell.
He didn’t know what the fuck was going on at my crib just to pop up, talking about she was mine.
What if my wife was crazy? What if she would have done some wild shit?
Regardless of all of that, I wasn’t feeling dawg.
Didn’t trust him. And because I didn’t trust him, I didn’t want him around my daughter.
Bold move to make, considering he’d been in her life longer than I had but I didn’t give a fuck.
We shared blood—not the two of them. She was young; she’d adjust to not having the nigga in her life anymore.
Couple years she won’t even remember the nigga existed.