Chapter 32 #2
“Such a cute little ghetto love story,” Spelman laughed. “My mama basically told me the same shit. Y'all didn’t work out and moved on from each other.” She waved him on. “Finish the story, but you have four kids to explain.”
“We were good for a little while, living our little life and shit,” he shook his head.
“Then her son got kidnapped by a nigga. I had to show the fuck out, but she wouldn’t, or better yet, couldn’t let it go.
I was always on edge, and I realized my home would never be at peace while I lived there.
We were always at each other’s throats, and this is the part I didn’t tell her people.
She told me she was in love with another nigga.
I followed her for a few weeks. I saw who it was, and everything in me was ready to snap, but I did one better. He took the woman I loved.”
“Wait, you killed his wife?” I asked, and Tulane nodded. A look of regret flashed across his face, but it only lasted for a moment. “And he let you live?”
“He never knew it was me,” he said, shaking his head. “We went out, got drunk, and kicked it hard as hell that night. Then I sent them on their way.”
“So you didn’t kill the wife?” Berkeley tried to verify.
“I cut the brake lines and made sure the passenger seatbelt was broken. It was raining. She wasn’t supposed to be in the passenger seat, but that nigga had other plans.
I had a business associate trail them, and when they got to this dangerous part of the road, not far from their house, he turned on his brights.
He couldn’t see; the roads were slick from the rain, and he was speeding.
Their car went off the road. She died on impact while he walked away unscathed.
It was the first death in their family, but it wasn’t the last by a long shot. ”
“That’s fucked up, Tulane,” Berkeley replied.
“I never said I was a good nigga,” he said and shrugged. “I didn’t mean to kill her. She had a six-year-old boy at home who needed her. I live with that shit every day. I stood in the back of her funeral, and then a few years later, he and his siblings.”
“You went back a second time?” I asked.
“Nah, life is just funny that way,” he said, shaking his head. “I did some fucked up shit all in the name of love for a woman who didn’t think of me twice.”
“At least you aren’t callous and act like it didn’t affect you,” Berkley said.
“Doesn’t negate the fact that you were a deadbeat to us, though.
” Tulane chuckled and shook his head. “Your first love broke your heart, and in return, you vowed never to love a woman? Is that what you’re trying to tell us? ”
“No,” he answered. “Like I said, I loved each of your mamas, I just was never in love with them. I didn’t lie to them about what we were doing. When I was in town, we’d hook up; when I wasn’t, we lived our own lives. There was no jealousy or anger.”
“Yet you ghosted each of them,” Spelman interjected. “Make it make sense.”
“I didn’t ghost them,” he said, shaking his head. “They all got child support, and I checked in with them monthly. I saw y’all, you all didn’t see me.”
“This story is boring me, Tulane,” Clarke said as she continued to carve. “Tell us the important parts.”
“All of it is important,” Tulane replied.
“It’s not,” Clarke disagreed. “You want it to be important because you think it will justify your behavior. It doesn’t.
To us, you are a deadbeat. We didn’t know about you, yet you knew about us.
We didn’t get the conversation until we were grown.
No explanation as to why you weren’t there. Our mamas did, but they aren’t us.”
“Y’all mamas are just as fucked up as I am,” he replied.
“They are, but unfortunately, they aren’t here; they’re dead.
Cancer, drugs, or just bad fucking luck, so you’re here to deal with the aftermath of your poor decision-making.
” She looked up at Tulane, and for a moment, he was stunned by her bluntness.
“Now I’m going to ask again, tell us the shit we are supposed to care about. Not the boring parts.”
“Well, damn Clarke,” Spelman laughed. She turned and looked at Tulane. “You heard her, tell us the important. Like how you didn’t know your daughter was dead even though you claimed to be keeping an eye on us.”
“Because her mama has connections, and if she wanted to disappear, there was nothing I could do to stop her.” Tulane lifted his head and looked at us. “Her mother’s side isn’t people to fuck with. Their last name means something.”
“So they scare you?” Clarke asked.
“Fuck no,” Tulane laughed and shook his head. “Her family’s name didn’t mean shit because I was building my own. I moved how I moved, learned what I could, and respected the game. When I found out, I left, moved on.”
“You wanted to move,” Berkeley corrected him. “Now back to the story about this other daughter. Stop beating around the bush. How come no one knew she was dead if her family had all these connections?”
“Because her boyfriend had better,” Tulane answered.
“I found out she was dating this nigga. I couldn’t stand him, hated his family, but I wasn’t in her life to make any fucking moves like I wanted to.
I stepped to him and his family like a grown ass man and let him know that my daughters, not just one daughter, but all my daughters were off limits. ”
“I’m going to take it that they didn’t listen?” Berkeley asked.
“I thought they did,” he chuckled. He sat forward, resting his elbows on his legs, and dropped his head. “Turns out I was wrong as fuck, but I didn’t know that until it was too late. I had one daughter dead and another married to one of his brothers.”
“Wait, what?” I looked at him, confused. “What did you say?”
Tulane lifted his head and looked at me. His eyes watered, and he nodded. “Yeah, Yale, you married Grant, and she was with one of the Kilmores.”
“Whoa, wait a fucking minute, you’re telling us that our sister was with the brother of Yale’s husband!” Berkeley jumped from the couch. “What kind of shit are these niggas into and why don’t I know them?”
“Probably because you were no use to them,” Tulane answered. “Yale and Xavier--”
“Xavier?” I repeated her name as I tried to place her face.
Even though I stayed clear of Quincy, I knew he was dating someone.
No one ever said her name or brought her around, but I knew a woman existed.
I rubbed my eyes as I tried to piece together the small piece of information that Tulane was giving us.
“Yeah,” Tulane nodded, then humorlessly laughed. “That was her name, Xavier.”
“And she died?” Berkley asked. “In a car accident?”
“She was killed in a car accident eight years ago. There was a race, but she wasn’t a part of it. I don’t know what she was doing there or anything. All I know is her car was hit.”
“No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head as I stood. “Please don’t tell me that.”
“I’m sorry, Yale,” Tulane said.
“Wait, what are you apologizing for?” Spelman asked. “Did you know her or something?”
“No,” I replied as I sat. Tears clouded my vision as I stared at Tulane. The sound of screeching tires, burning rubber, and the smell of smoke and fire all invaded my senses. “I was the one who killed her.”
My stomach twisted, and I felt lightheaded. This wasn’t what I needed to hear. I tried to brace myself by grabbing the armrest and getting control of my breathing, but I couldn’t.
“Yale,” I heard Berkeley and Tulane call my name, but I couldn’t focus on them.
I needed space, fresh air, to feel the sun on my face.
I pushed off the couch and headed for the back door.
I opened the back door, and it slammed against the wall.
I heard glass shatter, but I didn’t care.
As soon as my feet touched the grass, I felt rain against my skin.
There was no damn sunshine, just rain. My knees gave out, and I dropped to the ground on all fours.
I lay down, rolled over to my back, and let the rain wash over me.
It may have been an accident, but it didn’t matter. I finally had the name of the person whose life I’d taken.
Xavier.