Legacy
LEGACY
Entering my parents' house felt like stepping into a time capsule. I hadn't been there in over a year. In efforts to avoid my mother’s wrath, I had been meeting my dad outside of their home whenever I visited Chicago. But now that I was officially back in town, I knew avoiding her forever wasn’t an option. Seeing the empty driveway, I felt relief and disappointment. Her absence meant no confrontation, but it also meant no chance to at least see her face after so long.
My father greeted me at the door, embracing me with arms just as big as mine, though his were losing muscle mass due to his age. "Finally made it to see your old man, huh?”
I chuckled, lovingly patting his back. “Sorry. I had a long weekend with the kids.”
We walked into the living room where the evening news was on. Dad settled into his usual recliner while I got comfortable on the couch, sitting on its corner near him.
He looked at me, beaming like a proud father. “It’s good to see you, son.”
Seeing the pride back in his eyes made my chest swell. It had been a slow process, but as I sobered up over the years, I could see that pride gradually returning in my father. Gaining his trust in my sobriety had been tough, but now, it seemed like I was finally getting it back. There was no hesitation in his eyes, just pure admiration as he looked at me.
“Good to see you too, Pops… real good.”
He and my mother were another reason why I had returned. They were getting older, and since I was their only child, I wanted to be nearby when and if they needed me.
"So, how has the transition back to Chicago been?"
I shrugged, feeling a bit more relaxed after the session with Chantel in the bathroom and the chill time we’d spent at the restaurant. "Taking it day by day, you know? It's been all right. I had a great weekend with the kids although Eden's been giving me some attitude."
Dad nodded. "Eden’s at that age. Twelve is tricky. He’s seen and heard a lot, regarding your addiction.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “But he still has to respect you. You’ve made some big changes, and he needs to respect that."
I sighed, running a hand over my face. "Yeah, I know. It's just... he acts like he doesn't believe I've changed. Like everything I did in the past is still who I am today."
Sympathy pushed my father to shake his head slowly with disappointment in his wrinkled eyes. "Kids hold on to things. But you gotta be consistent. Show him, don’t just tell him. Spend time with him, listen to him. Let him see the man you are now ."
I nodded. "I hear you. It's just hard. It’s like he's waiting for me to mess up again."
My father leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Look, son, respect is earned, especially when it's been lost. Even though Eden is a child, you still have to earn his respect again. He just needs to see that you're there for him, that you're reliable. It won't happen overnight, but with time, he'll come around." He tapped my knee. "You’re doing good. Don't forget that."
“Thanks, Dad.” After years of letting him down, earning his praise again was a rush that hit me hard, forming a lump in my throat.
I cleared my throat, pushing down the emotion threatening to choke me. Just as I was about to speak, we heard a key turning the door lock. My father shot me a look that showed some reluctance mixed with a command that silently told me not to be afraid. It was the same look he'd give me when I was Eden’s age.
Hearing my mother opening the front door, I braced myself. It had been a year since she'd seen my face in person. Over that time, we’d barely exchanged hellos on voice and Facetime calls between my father and me, and I knew those were only because he had pressured her.
At first, I felt solely responsible for Ri’s murder. But therapy had helped me realize that Ri had known all about the kind of life I was living back then. I hadn’t lured her to that party under false pretenses. She’d been well aware of the type of niggas that would be there. Therapy had reminded me that I was a very protective brother and Brando and Tim were the ones who’d truly been at fault. I still felt a pang of guilt, but I could live with myself now without numbing the pain. Therefore, I tried to no longer let my mother affect me. That was her unfortunate way of grieving and had no bearing on the type of nigga I truly was presently.
When she walked in and saw me, surprise flickered across her face before she quickly pulled her gaze away.
"Hello," she said, directing her words to my father.
"Hey," he replied, trying to keep his tone light.
She approached the loveseat with her eyes fixed on my father. As she kissed him on the cheek, I took in her presence. Despite how cold and distant she’d been since Ri’s murder, seeing her was a pleasant sight for sore eyes. My chest tightened with immediate yearning for the void only a mother's love could fill.
"Ma," my deep rumbled called softly.
“,” she bit. She barely glanced at me before turning back to my father. “I’ve had a long day. I need to rest,” she said as she quickly shuffled to their bedroom.
“I miss you, Ma,” I told her regardless.
I watched her retreat, feeling the familiar ache of rejection. My father sighed and shook his head as she entered their bedroom and closed the door.
"Don't take it personally, son.”
I scoffed. “How else am I supposed to take it?”
His head lowered as he blew out a tired breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry. She’s just still hurting."
I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, I get it."
He gave me a sympathetic look. "It’ll take time. Just keep being patient."
"Patience has never been my strong suit," I muttered, running a hand through my hair.
He chuckled softly. "I know, but you've come a long way. Just keep at it."
I leaned back on the couch, trying to shake off the sting of her dismissal. "I just want to make things right for everyone."
He patted my shoulder. "You will, son. One step at a time."
I nodded, trying to believe it. "Yeah, one step at a time."