Chapter 8
One Week Later
It was a little after one in the afternoon, and I was on my way to my parents’ house for lunch.
My brother had already called and told me that my mom was cooking seafood and setting it up on the patio for us.
The weekends were the days that my mom demanded all of us to slow down and rest. She believed that was the time you spent at home with your family.
Especially on Sunday, we all eat together no matter what.
Unless we’re out of town on vacation or business.
Sunday dinner alternates from my parents, my brother, grandparents, and my house.
I don’t cook big meals, but I do have a chef on my house staff, and Ms. Mattie does a great job.
When Alex Porter called... Yeah, your entire day changes. Immediately.
I sighed when her name flashed across the screen through my Bluetooth.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Where are you?” She asked without even greeting me first.
“Damn, hello to you too.”
“Legacy Porter! Don’t play with me, and watch your damn mouth. Where are you?” I decided to mess with her and see how she reacts.
“I’m on my way to see this lil fine ass shorty I met the other night.”
“Well change directions.”
I laughed lightly. “For what?”
“Because I said so. I want to see my son’s face today.”
My mom was a trip. What she says goes, and everyone acted accordingly.
Especially my pops. She got that nigga wrapped around her fingers and her toes.
My mom carried herself well, she wasn’t a woman that grew up with money.
She lived in the heart of North Philly, and when she went to college, she took off.
She was elegant, powerful, rich, classy, and beautiful as hell, but underneath all of that softness was a woman who ran our family with one look alone.
“Call your other son and see his face,” I said, already making the turn into the driveway of the estate. I heard the double beeps, and I knew she hung up on me. She saw me on the security cameras.
Walking into the house, my family was already outside enjoying the beautiful weather. I walked over to my mom and grandma, and kissed them both.
“I’m glad to know that you love your mama,” my mom said.
“With everything in me, beautiful.” I smiled and pulled her in for a hug.
My mom was my everything, and she knew that.
I loved my pops, too; it’s just that he had so many damn rules and gave his opinion of me on everything.
Which is why I was so surprised that he reacted the way that he did at my art exhibit.
Hell, I’m still surprised that he even came.
He’s seen some of my paintings before and never really gave an opinion or showed his acceptance like he did that night.
He probably only acted that way because he knew my mom would dig into his shit. She doesn’t play about her son’s.
“Son, it’s good to see that you put the paint brush down to come join us. It upsets your mother when she has to call you just to come see her. I don’t like that shit, do better. Why can’t you be more like your brother?” he blurted.
“Whoa. Son, you going too far now. Why the hell would you say something like that?” My grandpop intervened, and I could feel the irritation rising in me. Shit was about to go bad.
“I’m not more like him because I’m me! And if you don’t like that shit, then that’s on you.
I’ve always shown you respect, even when you gave me your ass to kiss.
But understand this, I’m a grown ass man now.
You gon’ give me the same respect I give you,” I spat, because I just got here, and he was starting his shit. This is why my visits aren’t as often.
My mom stood from her seat and walked in our direction, but I walked off heading in the house. Just as quick as I walked in, I was about to walk out. I didn’t feel like hearing that shit from him.
“Bro…Legacy!” Logic called out behind me.
“Sup.” I turned when I made it to the family room.
“Stop letting him get to you. You know how he is, and in a few days, he’ll regret he did the shit,” he said to me.
“Nah, I’m tired of that shit with him. I love my family, but I don’t ever want to be in a place where I’m not respected or treated the same as everyone else.
Deep down that nigga doesn’t like me, his own damn son!
He has deep rooted issues with me and that’s his muthafuckin problem to figure out what they are.
This shit didn’t just start now, or when I was a teenager.
He’s been that way even when I was an adolescent.
You’re his prodigy child, and I’m cool with that.
Whatever energy that nigga on, I’ma meet him where he’s at.
We heard sobbing and we turned to see my mom standing there. I’m sure she heard everything I said.
“Mom. I know this isn’t what you wanted.
I know you love me, but I can’t keep allowing him to treat me any kind of way when he feels like it.
I’ll come see you when he’s not around. For now, I’m going home.
I love you, Ma. I’m sorry this is happening, and that’s your husband, so never think you have to choose between us.
You’re my mother, our bond can never be broken.
I’ll see soon.” I kissed her on the cheek.
“I love you, baby boy. I will talk to your dad because this shit has to end,” she spoke, and I nodded.
I dapped my brother up and headed home. Twenty minutes later, I was pulling into my driveway.
I decided to go to the bar and pour me a drink; this shit had me pissed.
Once I poured my drink, I went into the kitchen to grab some menus to order me some lunch.
The letter in the mail bin caught my eye, and it was the same as the letter I got last week.
White envelope addressed to me with no return address.
I grabbed my drink and the envelope and sat down at the island.
My heart started beating fast as hell, and that threw me off.
’Cause why the hell did I feel like that?
I opened the letter and started reading it immediately.
Legacy,
I dreamed of you last night. Not in a weird way, but in a way that pushed me to write you this letter.
I fought with sending this one to you as well.
My whole life, I’ve played it safe. I don’t have any family.
I was given up at birth by my mom, never knew my dad, or any of my other relatives.
So, ultimately, it’s just me and my baby girl.
Some people might find that sad, but I’ve found joy.
It’s crazy because my daughter wasn’t conceived in the “normal way.” Her father, or her donor should I say, is a bitch ass nigga.
He never wanted her, and since she’s been on this earth, he’s only seen her twice.
The last time was when she was four years old.
So, it’s safe to say, she wouldn’t be able to pick him out in a lineup if she wanted to.
When we first got together, I missed alllll the signs that he never had any intentions on growing old with me or building a family.
Actually, to be honest, we were never actually TOGETHER.
I’d call us “friends with benefits.” But with more benefits than friendliness.
Imagine my surprise, when he was upset that I’d gotten pregnant.
Once again, my naivety caused me to hope for the best. I figured even if he didn’t want her then, he’d never be able to deny her once she was here. Damn, I was wrong.
Sometimes I blame myself and find myself, wanting to apologize to my daughter for picking the wrong man.
Then I see that she’s not missing anything that she’s never had.
I’ve built our own little village which consists of me, her, and my best friend.
My daughter is happy, healthy, and smart as hell. So, what more could I ask for?
I paused, reading and shook my head.
“She’s right. He is a bitch ass nigga!”
I took another sip of my drink before continuing.
Anyway, I’ve been wondering how you’re doing.
Are you still painting? What inspires you?
I love how in depth your creativity goes.
It’s deep and gives you all the feels. My favorites are the ones of the two black women.
The one with the hand shadows grabbing at her but they still were unable to touch her. It reminded me of myself.
“How the fuck did she see my paintings? Was she at the exhibit?” I asked myself in deep thought, trying to figure out who she was. “Focus, nigga; focus.”
No matter how much trauma I’ve faced, I’ve never let it get ahold of me. Even if I still feel it every day. If that makes any sense. It makes you wonder…is trauma truly a lasting internal impact or is it only permanent in the sense that healing is impossible?
(A big dreamer lmao)
Do you believe in love, Legacy? I do. I’ve always considered myself a “dreamer.” A person in love with the idea of love.
I’ve always wanted a man who was totally obsessed with me.
One who would randomly bring me flowers just because.
Trips out of the country, making love on the beach.
Just totally consumed with one another. You’d think that I’d experienced this at least once in my life or that I wouldn’t be such a big believer in it, since I’ve never had it.
I think it’s the opposite, though. Just because I’ve never had it, doesn’t mean I can’t still want it or that it doesn’t exist.
Legacy, they say connections hit the spirit first. I think that’s what’s happening with me. Which is why I’m writing you.
Do you listen to Kings of Leon? My favorite song by them is Someone Like You. Also listen to Peace Is Gold by Pete Bailey & What You Need by Tems. These songs are my absolute favorites.
Well, I guess I’ve said enough for today. Protect your peace at all costs. If it’s not meant to serve you in any capacity, get rid of it.
Sincerely,
Forever
I sat there staring at the paper in my hands while rain tapped softly against the windows.
Rain was comforting for me, I loved it. I read the letter over and over again.
It was crazy because, even though I thought that the shit was a lil creepy, I didn’t think I wanted it to end.
I almost felt bad for wondering when the next letter was coming.