Legacy
LEGACY
I lay in the ICU bed, feeling the relentless throb in my head like it was splitting open. Each pulse was a sharp, determined pain that made my vision blur. Without the opioids, the pain was excruciating. Every heartbeat sent a new wave of agony through my brain. But I refused to take the strong painkillers. I couldn't risk falling back into the addiction that had nearly destroyed me and my family. Over-the-counter meds were all I allowed myself to take, even though they barely took the edge off.
Ekon sat at the foot of my bed. My father was sitting next to me. They both were watching me with stern, worried glares.
“You shouldn’t have left rehab to come visit me, man,” I told Ekon with a raspy and weak voice.
He dismissed me with a flick of his hand. “You crazy as hell if you thought I wasn’t gonna come see you after hearing you got shot. I only flew in to check on you. I’m on the last flight back to Houston to get back to the rehabilitation center.”
I was only able to curl one side of my mouth up in appreciation of his loyalty and support. “Thanks, man.”
Suddenly, a hard look came over his eyes. “Aesop better be lucky you killed him.”
My father nodded in agreement. “Damn right,” he said.
I sighed, wincing as a sharp pain shot through my skull. “I feel stupid for thinking Aesop would just let it go after I paid him back,” I admitted.
My father placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up,” he said firmly. “You approached it like a man. You tried to fix things the right way. It’s not your fault he couldn’t let it go.”
Ekon chimed in with concern etched on his brow. “You think you’re gonna face any retaliation for killing Aesop?”
I shook my head slightly, the movement sending another wave of pain through my head. “Smoke called me. He assured me Aesop had acted on his own. Everyone in the crew agrees I was defending myself. No actions will come against me.”
Both Ekon and my father looked relieved. “Good,” Ekon said. “You don’t need that stress on top of everything else.”
As we talked, the pain in my head seemed to intensify. I tried to keep my focus on the conversation, but it was getting harder. I frowned, trying to hide it, but my father noticed.
“You all right, son?” he asked.
I nodded weakly and tried to downplay it. “Yeah, just a headache.”
Ekon looked at me with understanding. “You’re strong, bro. You’re gonna get through this.”
I scoffed, hating that opioids were my weakness. My head was hurting so bad that only something strong could take the edge off, but I couldn’t give in. I had to fight it. “I’m trying.”
After Ekon left, Pops stayed to keep me company while Bless was home with the kids. They had just gotten out of school, and she would return later once Joy could come over to watch them. Because of the headaches, Pops had been keeping the room so quiet that I could hear the clock ticking on the wall.
But I broke through my pain and the silence. "Pops, was Ma even there when I was in surgery?"
I had been in too much pain the last few days to ask, but it was blatantly obvious that everyone had been to visit me except her. I watched as a shadow of regret crossed his face, the same regret I’d seen in his eyes every time he showed up to the hospital alone. He sighed heavily before answering, "No, son. She wasn’t there."
I felt a familiar ache in my chest. I had been feeling it every day that had passed that I didn’t see my mother’s face enter my hospital room. Though I understood why she was so angry with me, it was hard to believe that her heart was so absent of love for me that she didn’t even come to the hospital to make sure I didn’t die.
"I’ve decided to stop trying with her," I told him. As I had lain there for days in disbelief of her absence, I had finally come to terms with the fact that my mother would never forgive me. She would make sure that I suffered forever because she was. "I’m going no contact with her. I won’t ever come to your house for anything, not even for the holidays. If you wanna see me, Pops, you’ll have to come to me."
Pops looked at me, his eyes misting. "I understand. It hurts, but I understand."
"I’m sorry. But I gotta do what’s best for me. She goes over and beyond to make me feel responsible for Ri's murder. That guilt is part of the reason I started using opioids in the first place."
Pops’ lips spread into a sympathetic line. Then he reached out and patted my hand. "You’re doing what you have to do, son. You don’t have to explain anything to me."
The strain of this decision felt like I was suffering the loss of another close family member, and it felt as destructive as Ri’s murder had. But I knew this loss was what was best for me.