I lied.
That time in our life was a sensitive time for everyone. Inez hated me but needed me at the same time. She was mad that her boyfriend was sent to the hospital with a fractured face and broken bones.
The more we tried to keep her away from him, the more she wanted to be with him. Inez did whatever she wanted, and at a certain point, I had to fall back, or I was going to end up in prison.
Her phone chimed and she rushed across the room to get it. I watched as she quickly replied to a text message and then started to fold the blankets she had been using.
“Where you going?”
“To hang with a friend.”
“Hmph.”
She paused before replying to the incoming text message and looked in my direction. “What is that about? Anytime it comes to me, you turn your face up.”
“I ain’t doing this shit with you today. Be safe and I love you.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she called behind me, as I grabbed another water before heading toward the door.
Inez wanted to beef, and I wasn’t in the mood to hear her play victim today. We all lost someone when Ramelle was killed.She wasn’t the only person that was mourning. Some way, her mourning was the only one that mattered and took priority.
“Where are you going?”
“To mind my business,” I replied, and closed the door behind me.
I loved my cousin, but the shit was hard trying to navigate. How do you try and save someone from themselves? The shit was difficult and left you drowning right along with them.
Inez wore grief around her neck like a scarf, making it her entire identity. Her excuse and crutch as to why she chose to get high. As much as I wanted to save her, I couldn’t lose myself trying to help her find herself.
CHAPTER 8
ZOYA
12 years old…
Recommendation: Listen to Dance With My Father by Luther Vandross.
There was a pain.
I could never figure out how to make it go away. It always lingered, and at times when I thought it had gone away, it was back in the middle of my chest. Almost making it hard to breathe and making my eyes water.
I asked Kora if she felt the same way, and she told me it was called grief. She said it was something that I would forever carry around with me. It had seasons, and some were rougher than others.
Grief was something I learned to hate. Anytime I felt that pain, it made me miss my parents. Caused my head to hurt, chest to burn and memories to flood my brain. I often wondered if Maverick felt the same way?
Did he feel the pain like me and Kora?
Was it hard for him to sleep sometimes, or did he feel like he was slowly losing his mind? At times, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me because I could hear my father’s laugh.
His chuckle that always made the entire house come to life. The other day, a Janet Jackson music video came on. It wasn’t just any song; it was my mother’s favorite song. Kora rushed across the kitchen and turned it off.
After turning the TV off, she held onto the edge of the TV stand and took a few breaths. Her back was turned to me and Landon, but soon as Landon asked her for something to eat, she shook it off quickly and turned around with a smile on her face.
As if she was hiding her emotions. Hiding how she was feeling after hearing our mother’s favorite song.
As I sat on the couch, I locked eyes with my sister, and she patted her chest. It was her way of telling me that she was feeling that pain that I told her about.
Grief.
