Zaire Godfrey #3
Once Téa and I parted ways, I made my way to the crib. As soon as I pulled up, I spotted my twin, Josias’s car, and he climbed out holding a big ass white plastic bag that looked to be holding some white Styrofoam food containers.
“Nigga, I was calling to see if you wanted to go eat, but you ain’t answer, so I got takeout,” he said as soon as he was near me.
Stepping up to my door and slipping the key in, I said, “My bad, I was a little busy.”
“Busy getting some pussy I hope,” he half jested, trailing me inside. I knew he was hoping I had been with a woman but also hoping I hadn’t been getting high.
“Something like that,” I replied, plopping down on the couch as he did the same, opening the food containers.
“I got the same shit for us both, so don’t matter what you pick,” he said.
“’Preciate it.” I opened the box, not really in the mood to eat, especially since I’d eaten with Téa.
For a moment, she had me feeling like I could be sober, but at the moment, that feeling had vanished. I wished I knew how to get that shit back.
Josias and I said our prayers together before he immediately started smashing his food, while I picked through the waffle combo from what I assumed was Louis Burgers.
“What you do last night?” he queried.
“Went to Perry’s and met up with some chick,” I answered. “We kicked it for the night.”
Josias was silent for a beat, eating his food and taking a sip of his orange juice. I knew him too well, and he was gathering the courage to ask me some shit.
“You did it clean?”
“Man.” I sucked my teeth, shaking my head.
“Bruh.” He set the fork down. “That night at Pops’ party, you scared the fuck out of a nigga. You know I can’t live without you.”
As he talked, I gave him a little bit of eye contact, craning my body toward him slightly.
“I know.” I huffed, digging my palms into my eyes out of exasperation. “Shit is easier said than done, Jojo. When I’m coherent, I remember too much shit and think too fucking hard,” I admitted.
“I’m already knowing, bruh.” He cleared his throat. “We handle shit differently, and while neither of our vices are healthy, one is worse.”
Same way I buried my troubles in pills and sometimes alcohol, Josias buried his in between women’s legs.
I got high or drunk to run away from my thoughts and to be able to be in the same room with my father and not freak the fuck out from all the torment he put us through.
It’d been that way since I was a kid except back then, it was candy, sodas, and anything I could get a sugar high from.
Same time, Josias was becoming a womanizer, using women to put him on a pedestal since he was like gum beneath our father’s shoe at home. I noticed he sought out the women who bore glints in their eyes at the sight of him and typically waved off the women who saw him as just another nigga.
Ayan was a fucking scaredy cat, and from childhood wanted most importantly to please our father to avoid being locked in small closets or beat until he couldn’t sit like Rakim. He never grew out of the shit, allowing our dad to puppeteer his adult life in any way he wanted.
Rakim took on the brunt of the torture, beatings, and belittling ’cause he could never shut up and, in return, learned to deal with shit by being violent and withdrawn as fuck. It worked out for him in his career choice as a boxer but then ruined that same career.
“I’m doing my best, but I feel like shit would be easier if I wasn’t here,” I expressed, feeling my eyes well with tears.
It was some shit I would only reveal to my twin because Ayan wouldn’t give a fuck, and Rakim would care too fucking much, smothering a nigga.
“Aye, aye.” Josias scooted closer to me, throwing his arm around me. “Don’t talk like that, Z. I need you here, bruh. We gon’ get past all this.”
“Same shit you been saying since high school, Jojo, and here we are fifteen years later and talking about the same shit. You still fucking any bitch that’s fanned out, and I’m still getting high.
Ayan still running behind pops for approval, and Rakim still callous as fuck, willing to kill a nigga for simple shit.
It ain’t gon’ end. We fucked up. And he still around.
Only way for us to make any progress is to get rid of that nigga. ”
“We can’t do that.” Josias shook his head. “But I need you to stop talking like that, or I ain’t gon’ have no choice but to snitch to Rah.”
I knew he was serious, and like I said, Rakim wouldn’t let a nigga breathe if he thought I was going to commit suicide.
“Aight. I’m good.” I felt Josias watching me, so I repeated, “I’m good. I swear. I just . . . I don’t know, but this girl I met last night had me feeling something different. Almost like I was meant to meet her.”
“Don’t fuck it up like me.”
Chuckling, I said, “We twins, but that’s where we differ, nigga.”
Josias changed the subject to rant about his baby mamas, and I was thankful for the segue. Truthfully, though, I ain’t know if my interest in Téa was enough to keep me here. Life was always better with my mama, and maybe I needed to join her on the other side.