Chapter 11 #2
“You are just in luck,” he said, climbing down the step stool carefully with two tiny boxes in his hands.
“I have two of that model in stock. They were selling like crazy around Christmas a few years ago. Then after that, sales dropped and they have been sitting on the shelf collecting dust ever since.”
Jasmine grabbed one of them from his hand and looked at the orange price tag on the back.
“Yeah, I see why it stopped. These little things are expensive as hell. Where I’m from, this wouldn’t have even been a Christmas gift. Who is it for?”
“A little dude I know. He deserve it, so I have no problem spending that on him. Wrap it up for me.”
The old man took the box back from Jasmine and then went behind his counter to carefully wrap the car up for him.
I purchased that Hot Wheels car and the Mustang model too.
I knew that I was about to make Rami’s day by spending money that wouldn’t even put a dent in my pocket.
On top of what I had at home in my safe from the work I did in the streets, I still hadn’t signed over that thirty million from Mecca’s estate yet.
Shit Delilah had me wondering if I even would bringing up sick babies and shit.
First, me and Jasmine ran over to the projects to give the little niggas the bats and baseballs I purchased.
They were standing in the same spot, swinging those same sticks when I pulled up and they got hype as hell, when I got out of the car.
Because I had somewhere to go, I dapped each one of them up and they started a up game before I could get back in the car.
“Look at them. They are so happy Amir, that was so nice of you.” Jasmine, turned around in her seat to keep watching until we hit the corner.
“Yeah, they probably never had anybody actually do for them what was promised.”
“And they will never forget you for that.” She paused for a moment.
“I just know you are going to be a great dad, Amir. You make me excited about coparenting.”
“Coparenting? That's it?” I raised my eyebrow to mess with her.
“You know what I mean. We will see where life takes us in the future.”
“Yeah, you right about that.”
I think my constant eye contact with her made her nervous because she dropped her head. Smiling and batting her eyes every time she looked up at me.
With the Mustang model and the Hot Wheels car still wrapped in shiny paper in the backseat, I had another stop to make.
When I got to my mama’s street, I parked near the curb and grabbed the cars from the backseat.
“You want me to come in here too?”
“Nah, you should be good out here. It won’t take me long.”
She nodded while I shut the door behind me and headed up the steps.
Before I could even knock, I heard yelling faintly through the apartment door. Not angry yelling but crying. I could tell it was a women’s voice and that took the happiness off my face.
I frowned and knocked on the door.
A couple seconds later the locks clicked and the door opened halfway. Rami stood there looking like he hadn’t slept all night.
“Oh. I thought you were Khalil.”
My eyebrows pulled together instantly.
Before I could even respond, I heard Erika crying somewhere deeper in the apartment. Loud. The kind of crying that makes your stomach tighten automatically.
“What happened lil man?”
Rami rubbed his face hard with both hands.
“My brother didn’t come home last night and with the way my mom’s is crying, I think something is wrong.”
I looked over his shoulder, but I couldn’t spot Erika from where I was standing.
“Go get your mother for me.”
“Okay. Just one second.”
He walked off down the hallway. I stood there gripping the toys still in my hand as the cries got closer to the door.
I was nervous as hell already, but her crying didn’t make it feel any better. When she appeared in the doorway, I froze completely. She seemed to freeze too. I mean her tears dried up almost instantly like she was too shocked to see me here to cry.
For a few long seconds neither one of us said shit. We just stared at each other while all the noise inside the apartment seemed to disappear around us.
“Amir. Why did you come, here? Did Amelia send you? Does she need me for something because I”
“No. I, came on my own. I was looking for you the other day and I met Rami.”
She looked down to the ground wiping her hand up her nose. I could tell she was not only sad, but nervous now. I didn’t mean to rock her world in any other way. Shit I want to know what her tears are for and try to help her with whatever else is going on.
“I’m guessing that you have finally figured it out after all these years huh.”
I nodded my head like a child unable to answer like a man. That’s because I felt like a kid standing here right now.
“I always knew that you would figure it out. Come, son.”
She wrapped her arms around me tight as hell
“Son?” Rami, questioned, standing behind us.
My mother turned around with tears already sliding down her face.
“Yes my love, this is your brother. Amir. He is my son.”
My throat tightened instantly hearing her finally say the shit out loud. There was no more assumptions, and no doubt about what the private investigator had found out. She called me her son. That meant it was true.
I felt a tear slide down my face and I wiped it fast because I wasn’t comfortable with crying about anything.
Mecca had always told us that crying was for girls and the weak.
Even if we broke a bone, we would get scolded for crying.
That’s why I learned to suck shit up most of the time, though right now, I felt free enough to let emotions flow. For once in my life.
“I uh, I got you this little man.” I held the cars out awkwardly toward Rami.
“I know you like little cars, so I stopped by this shop to get you that special birthday present you told me about. Something extra in there too.”
Rami took the package staring at me like he couldn’t process what he was hearing, then he opened up the wrapping and a smile wider than Brooklyn spread across his face.
“Thank you!” He hugged me around my waist, and I patted him on his head.
“He needed something good to happen right now. He’s been worried sick about his brother.”
“You don’t know where he is?”
“I, uh.” She stopped talking because Rami was looking between the both of us.
“Go back into your room for me, baby.”
“But Ma.”
“Please, just go. I will call you back out in a bit.”
The look on her face made him stop arguing and he clutched the cars to his chest and disappeared down the hallway.
The second he was gone; her whole body seemed to collapse emotionally, and she led me into the living room with her head hung low.
“Have a seat, Amir.”
I sat down across from her on one of the hard sofa’s she had pillows placed on neatly.
“So, I got a call this morning saying that my older son, Khalil, had stolen a lot of money from some gang I guess.”
My face hardened immediately, but I let her finish talking.
“And I believe it too because he came home earlier last night with money I knew he shouldn’t have. I asked him where he got it from, he said work he’s done around the neighborhood, and then he left back out. I haven’t saw him since then.”
Her fingers shook while wiping under her eyes.
“Now the men are saying that if he doesn’t pay back all of the money by sundown tomorrow, they are going to kill my baby.”
“Damn, how much money is it?”
“$400,000. They said they know that I have connections to the Quatars and I tried explaining that I only cleaned for your family and wasn’t connected like that, but they hung up after demanding I come up with the money.”
“Technically, you didn’t just clean for us. You and my father obviously made children together. And from what I see, I’m not the only one y’all made.”
Her face twisted immediately.
“No. You are, Amir. Their father wasn’t your father.” Her eyes lowered toward the floor.
“Their father was actually Hassan Quatar.”
"My uncle Hassan?"
She nodded.
I leaned back into the couch and stared at her for a second.
"What?"
My voice barely came out above a whisper.
Nothing about this conversation was making sense anymore.
First, I found out she was my mother.
Now she was telling me that Rami and Khalil actually had a different father and somehow my dead uncle was standing in the middle of all of it. They were Quatar men, just not Mecca’s children.
"Hassan loved me way more than your father ever did. I’m almost certain your father killed him because of it.”
I sat there staring at her.
The room suddenly felt smaller and I dragged my hand across my mouth and looked away for a second, trying to process what she had just told me. Every answer she gave me seemed to uncover three more questions in my head.
“I know how ugly it sounds but when I got pregnant with you, your father made me move to America with him to have you. He said he hated that I was pregnant, but he couldn’t have his bloodline living in poverty in Cuba with me.
So, he made me come to America, put me on apron and told his wife that I was a pregnant maid he hired instead of the woman who was pregnant with his child.
After that I fell for your uncle. He showed me way more love when I got here.
He was patient, he was kind. He understood how much I would endure to be around you. ”
“But why endure all of it instead of you and Hassan doing something about your situation? Then you stayed quiet even after Mecca died? That doesn’t make sense.”