38. Wyn
Wyn
So, I’ve never been like… overtly suicidal.
Like, I’ve never taken a bunch of pills and washed them down with alcohol.
I’ve never held a gun in my mouth, or to my temple.
And even during my accident, though I’ve blocked the whole thing out, based on how my arms were littered in hundreds of tiny cuts and scars, I thought enough to cover my face when I flew through the windshield.
But even when I was plastered, I wasn’t like I should end this horrible life of mine.
I guess when faced with the real possibility of my life ending, I realize that I don’t want it to end. I want the pain to end. The suffering, the loneliness… but not the life itself.
Even the memories of pain. Chunks of my life, gone. I try not to think about it, because then I’ll get a headache, or migraine, but it does make me sad. Not remembering or knowing the little moments that make or break me. And now, knowing the reasoning behind it is not just depression or trauma…
It makes me really want to smoke a premo. But I guess that would go against my pre-op instructions.
A month ago, I woke up in the hospital, and was told they found something in my brain. More tests, more scans, and my lovely team of doctors have diagnosed me with a grade one meningioma. Most likely benign, so I don’t have cancer. Small wins.
But it’s on my temporal lobe. Which is why I can’t remember shit.
Grade one means great borders. Side effects of the surgery may include complete memory loss, personality changes, and I may have to learn English again.
Because the size of my tumor, now named Sheila, is about the size of a golf ball.
My craniotomy is next week. Big word for a big day.
I get to shave my head and have awake surgery so my doctor, the best in the country, can know if I’ll be disabled for the rest of my life.
Auty’s been researching since we got the news, and she and my doctor go at it about whether Sheila is a grade one or grade two.
The scans show good margins, but he won’t actually know until my head is cut open.
I just sit there and daydream about the margarita I wish I could have.
They know it, too. Auty and Rico. I’m never, ever alone anymore. It seems like everyone takes turns watching me. Hell, even Tyree has popped up at my apartment to check my garbage disposal.
Everyone has put all their differences aside for YT and Reem’s housewarming.
Only YT would find one of the few mansions in the historic Highland Ridge neighborhood that was never converted into apartments, buy it, and make it hers.
We’re all in the formal dining room, eating a seven course meal Reem’s mom Katrina prepared with Tyree’s family.
The tension is so thick. Set and Rico keep glaring at each other, while Auty glares at the side of Rico’s head. Dallas keeps trying and failing to calm Peanut down. YT has me sitting next to her, taking shrimp out of my gumbo as she devours her own personal bowl.
“So, when’s your surgery again, Wyn? I know it’s next week but I don’t know what day.”
Dallas has stopped mothering Peanut and has set her sights on me. A pleasant and expectant smile elevates her natural beauty as she waits for my answer.
“Thursday, bright and early,” Auty answers for me. Her voice has this almost hysterical edge to it, permanently three octaves higher than usual, ever since we found out what’s wrong with me.
Dallas’s gaze shifts her Auty, a few seats down from me at the unnaturally long table, and her eyebrows pinch. I know she sees what I see. What everyone sees, even Turkey, who usually is blind to anything negative about his precious best friend turned lover.
An obnoxious snort comes from the other side of the room, and I groan inwardly, popping a sausage in my mouth.
Rico’s been leaning against the wall, since the only free seat was next to Set. This is the first time we’ve all been around each other since Shad’s birthday, and I guess he feels like I’m not acting like a woman in love with him should act.
At least, that’s what I deciphered from his bullshit one-line texts he sent this morning when I told him I was riding with Auty.
“Something funny?” Auty asks. I sink further into my seat. Dallas covers Peanut’s mouth with her hand, glaring at him when he tries to move it.
“Hilarious, actually,” Rico drawls, before taking a bite out of a chicken wing.
All the actual adults have retired to the backyard with the kids. Even they’re tired of this rift.
“I’m outta here before I box this bitch ass nigga up again. Peace out, losers.” Tyree stands with his empty bowl, giving me a kiss on the top of my head as he passes me by. “Good luck,” he whispers only to me.
“You shoulda brought ya wi–” Turkey says, before dodging Tyree’s hand.
“Would neva bring my girl around this negative energy. You niggas weird,” he rants, disappearing into the kitchen.
“You done eating, B?”
Brina rolls her eyes and cracks open a crab leg. “Nope. You can go. I’m staying.”
I sink even further into my seat. My ears are on fire, and I’m already fighting against the antiseizure medication to stay awake and alert.
My past deeds have never come back to haunt me like this.
I’ve robbed niggas before, and never seen them again.
I’d rather have run-ins with them than whatever this is at the table.
Tyree slams Reem’s front door, so I can’t even bum a ride with him.
Maybe if I run–
“Then I guess I’m staying, too.”
“Cuck.” Rico coughs to cover the word, but we all hear it, and a weird sound actually escapes my mouth.
Set wipes his mouth and grabs his glass of water. “Ain’t you the nigga who watched another nigga fuck on yo bitch for years? You the biggest cuck I know.”
“Casey!” Brina screeches, but he pays her no mind, even if guilt flashes in his eyes as he glances toward me.
The chair scrapes across the hardwood floors, but I can’t seem to apologize. My words are gone.
“You don’t deserve my sister,” Auty spits.
“Shit, you don’t either,” Rico retorts.
“You’re a fucking asshole!” A thick clunk stops my feet. The table freezes, as we gawk at Brina and Set.
She’s fisting a steak knife, sunk deep into the table. Set’s staring at her in horror, since the knife is millimeters away from his hand.
“I missed on purpose,” she says through clenched teeth. Her rage shifts to Rico, and she pulls the knife out of the table. “And you!”
He’s quick enough to dodge the knife before it lodges exactly where his shoulder was.
Brina’s out of her seat in a flash, grabbing my arm and leading me out of the living room. I hear Rico’s voice, but didn’t catch what he said. Whatever it is has the room in commotion, with chairs moving and “I’ll kill you nigga!” flying from Set’s mouth.
YT and Reem’s new house is a labyrinth, but clearly Brina’s been here before, because she leads us up the stairs and deeper into the house until she opens a closed door, throws me in, and attempts to close it behind us.
But YT is there, grinning, and Brina lets her in before YT closes and locks the door.
It’s a simple room, with a queen bed, dresser, and some painting of a countryside. YT leads us to the closet, and when she opens it, I understand why we came here.
It’s not exactly a panic room. It actually is a closet.
But a cool girl closet, with fluffy bean chairs, a small fridge for snacks, and a nightlight with a mini bookshelf, all nestled between heavy coats.
We have to crawl in between them, and once we all have something plush to sit on, YT closes and locks that door.
“Brina, I’m–”
“Don’t apologize, please. And not on behalf of that weird ass nigga down there.” Brina shakes her head before pulling me into a hug I didn’t know I needed.
“Them two niggas are in the biggest dick measuring contest known to man, and if it wasn’t you, it’d be some other girl or some other thing. I don’t even think they know why they’re mad at each other anymore.”
“Men and their senseless nigga babble,” YT says, fake gagging. “Thank God Reemie and Ty-Ty made up before the wedding. If I had to listen to one more rant about how ‘unreasonable’ my man’s platonic soulmate was, I would have blown my brains out, and I wouldn’t be able to share this with you both.”
She grabs both of our hands with her clammy ones, squeezing them, then letting her intrusive thoughts win as she squeezes our hands harder to get our knuckles to rub.
“Hey! Stop! Go ahead before I ruin it.”
“Ruin what?” I ask Brina, but she just gestures to YT.
“Well… I’m pregnant! With twinsies!” She lets go of our hands and claps obscenely.
“I figured when you ate three bowls of gumbo and started letting your roots grow out,” Brina says, before she hugs YT to her.
I join the hug, even though I feel twisty inside. “I’m so happy for you!” I squeal. And I mean it, I do. YT deserves her happy ending.
“Yes, yes. I’m a vessel carrying the end of the world as we know it,” she gushes as we settle back into our seats. “But, I just had to get that out the way before we focus on you. What’s up with your surgery? How are you feeling?”
“And be straight with us. Autumn isn’t here and this stays between us. We’re worried, Wyn. Brain surgery… that’s heavy.”
“How are you coping? I wouldn’t blame you if you slipped.”
Brina smacks YT’s thigh, before they both turn to me.
My eyes won’t lift from the hot pink shag carpet, even if the rest of my body knows I’m safe with these girls. Safe enough to be truthful.
“I’m scared shitless,” I breathe. The tears come as easily as the truth, and soon they’re dropping like rain.
“Scared of the surgery. Scared of the side effects. Scared that I could go through all of this and it can grow back. I… don’t want to die. But the worst case scenario isn’t even that… I don’t wanna leave you all behind.”