14. What I Want Vs. Who I Need
What I Want Vs. Who I Need
MEHKI
Afew days had passed, and I found myself needing to go silent on everyone just to think.
I buried myself in everything business, completing HVAC contracts, finishing up projects at the new flip, and meeting with realtors to prepare for a sale.
Not one day went by when Key didn’t cross my mind.
And not that I was trying to avoid her. A person needed to be actively seeking you out for you to avoid them, and Key hadn’t hit my phone once since the night she left my crib and let me know she made it home safe.
I wasn’t surprised. Key wasn’t about to make first contact, definitely not after we had sex. I hadn’t known her long, and I knew that for a fact. But no matter how bad I wanted to hear her voice, there was some shit I was still working out in my head after our last conversation.
Have you considered everything you need?
That question had been lingering in my head ever since she asked it, and I still hadn’t come up with a solid answer.
So, I turned to work. If there was anything I always had the answers for, it was my businesses.
And even through the influx of emails, invoices, job site walkthroughs, and duct work, I still found myself wondering what that fine ass girl was up to.
“Aye, boss. Boss.”
I blinked, realizing that one of the crew members had called out to me twice. We were standing outside of the house, debating whether to go with a wooden door or frosted in the front.
“Yeah?”
“You straight?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Aight.” He nodded, skeptical. “So, what we doing?”
“Both. Frosted with wood trim.”
“Fire. We’ll get right on it.”
“Preciate y’all. I’ma head out. If y’all need me, hit me.”
“Aight.”
I climbed into my truck and reversed out of the driveway. The house was near perfect, and we were ahead of schedule with the flip. Normally, when I was close to completing a project, I had a sense of accomplishment. Today, I didn’t feel present, and that was a foreign feeling to me.
As I drove, my personal phone rang in the cupholder. Baby. I picked up the phone and hit the lock button to silence the call. A second later, a text came through that my Bluetooth read through the car speaker.
Baby: I don’t know what your issue is, but you didn’t start pulling disappearing acts until you met this Key person. If there’s an issue, I’d rather you talk to me about it than do this, Mehki. We’re better than that.
I couldn’t even be mad at Karima for coming at me the way she did. I’d been ducking her and Ju. This was her second time texting after many calls, while Ju only called twice and texted once to call her once I was ready. And I planned to. Just not today.
I needed some advice, and then the thought hit me out of nowhere. Who would know my situation better than my parents? I made a detour and headed to their house. If there was one person I could unpack this with, it would be my father.
The drive to my parents’ house took a little over forty-five minutes with me having taken the long route just to give myself some time to figure out what questions I wanted to ask.
I didn’t want to ask questions that would be closed ended.
I needed answers that wouldn’t leave me more confused than I felt now.
I drove onto the quiet block and parked my car on the street.
I usually stopped to get my mother flowers before I visited, but this was an emergency.
Getting out of the car, I barely made it onto the porch before the front door swung open, and my mother stood there in her linen pant set, not looking a day over 65.
“Well, would you looka here? My son done realized that his mama would love more than a weekly FaceTime call. I thought you forgot where we live, boo.”
I smiled, pulling her off her feet into a hug.
“You know, ever since you got old enough to do that shit, I’m still not used to it.” She laughed, hitting my back playfully. “Put me down, boy.”
I placed her back on her feet. “Hey, Ma.”
“Hey, son.” She pulled me back into a tight hug before leaning back to grab my face the way she did when I was younger. “I so love you.”
“I love you too, Ma. Can I come inside?” I asked, smirking.
She pouted. “Then, I gotta share this love wit’ Daddy.”
I covered my mouth with my hand, chuckling. “Ma.”
“Okay, if you must,” she joked, stepping back and opening the door. “Oh, wait. Hey, Pearl,” she greeted loudly to her next-door neighbor who did the same. “Look who stopped by.”
She spun me around like a prized showpiece. “Hey, Ms. Pearl.”
“Heyyy, Mehki, baby,” the older lady spoke. “Looking all handsome in the face. It’s good seeing you.”
“You too.”
“Alright, Pearl. I’ll catch you later,” my mother said, walking into the house. She didn’t get far before she turned to me. “You hungry?”
“Nah. I’m good, Ma,” I replied, closing and locking the door behind me.
“You look good physically, but your eyes say you brought something heavy in here that you need to sort out.” She picked it up immediately, same way she’d done all my life. “Daddy’s in the den. I’ll be in there in a minute.”
I simply replied, “Aight” and headed that way. My mother knew me like a book, so there was no disputing what she already knew.
“Wassup, old man?” I spoke, finding him behind his bar, puffing on a Cuban cigar, fixing himself a drink.
“Ayeee, there’s my son, the self-made millionaire. What’s going on, king?” Setting his glass down, he walked around the bar, pulling me into one of those quick hugs men gave that showed love without making the other feel uncomfortable.
“Nothing much. Came through to see my favorite people.”
“Well, alright, what you drinking?”
“You can give me whatever you having, Pop.”
“You know I’m whiskey to the bone.”
“So long as it ain’t the cheap shit you try to give the family when they come over, pour me up.”
He held a brown bottle up with an unfamiliar name and flashed a look of offense.
“You ain’t been here five minutes, and you already insulting yo’ old man?”
I laughed. “How I’m insulting you, and I’m telling you the truth?”
He shrugged and poured the brown liquor in a glass. “Them damn alcoholics that come through here on occasion, you damn right I give them Jack Daniels. And when they get pissy drunk, I switch that out for Paul Mason. They don’t know the difference.” He cracked up, and I shook my head.
“You cold.”
“I’m resourceful. You want ice?”
“Yeah.”
Placing a block of ice in my cup, he pushed it toward me. I waited until he poured his own cup before clinking my glass with his and taking a sip. The whiskey went down smooth.
“What I tell you ‘bout them nasty ass cigars?” I pointed to the one burning in his hand.
“You ain’t tell me shit ‘cause I’m grown. You did request that I stop smoking them. I, in turn, stopped smoking them as often. And ain’t a damn thing nasty about this craftsmanship,” he said, holding the cigar up as the smoke wafted in the air.
“That is lung cancer.”
“Your generation don’t know nothin’ ‘bout good shit.”
“My generation know the importance of oxygen,” I countered, smirking.
“Crazy how you know that, but you don’t know when you ‘bout to get punched out.”
I put my hand up to block the jab as soon as he threw it.
Laughing, I backed down. “Aight, aight, I’m off your cigars.”
“Yeah. ‘Cause you down here talking about everything but what you need to be talking about.”
He leaned against the bar, sipping his drink in silence. Rushing to words had never been his thing. He’d always taught me to think before I spoke so that when my words did come out, they were what I wanted to say, not what I thought people wanted to hear.
Eventually, I found my words. “I met someone.”
“Kinda figured that the moment you paused. And your mama texted me before you came in.”
I shook my head. “What she say?”
“I’ll read it to you.” He picked his phone up and unlocked it. “Our son got something he need to get off his chest. Don’t go trying to beat him at figuring out what it is. Just listen and wait till I get in there to give your opinion.”
We both smiled.
“That lady there…”
“Don’t know how to do nothing but run shit,” he finished.
“Facts.” I chuckled.
“Tell me about this someone you met.”
My smile widened. “Key… well, Kyiris. Kyiris Sullivan.”
His head tilted and brow creased. “Any relation to Ace Sullivan?”
“His niece,” I confirmed.
“Oh, shit. Small world.”
“Yeah.”
“How is she? I know them Sullivans personally, and all them muthafuckas a handful. And I say that respectfully.”
“Key is definitely that. Cool as hell though. She say what she want, challenges me word for word, and she have me dying laughing. She make me think, hell, assess forreal.”
He nodded. “That’s dangerous.”
“Hell yeah. Especially when somebody make you question something you’ve been certain about.”
“I brought cobbler with some ice cream,” my mother announced, walking in with two plates, setting them in front of us.
Seeing ice cream made me think of Key’s favorite flavor.
“Is he smiling at the ice cream?” she asked my father, standing next to him.
He looked over at her and nodded. “He is.”
“Y’all stop watching me.” I waved them off, spooning a piece of the cobbler into my mouth.
“So, you tell Daddy what’s on your mind?”
“He did,” my father answered for me. “It’s the woman that got him smiling at that ice cream. Kyiris Sullivan.”
“Oh, another woman, huh?” she asked, climbing onto a barstool.
“No, baby,” my father corrected, “thee woman.”
His words made my mother shoot me a hard look. Studying me for a few seconds, she looked back at my father. “How you know that, Mecca?”
“Look at him. He ain’t doing all that smiling just ‘cause that woman fine, makes him laugh, or got some good snatcha watcha.”
“Pop.”
He held his hands up. “I’m just saying. You thought about her the whole ride over here then brought her in here witchu. She’s been sitting behind your eyes the whole time I’ve been looking at you.”
“Hmmm.” My mother hummed, putting her hand around my father’s waist. “Who taught you to be observant like that?”
“My wife.” He bent down to kiss her lips.