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She’d been staying with me and my ole girl for the past couple of weeks. Her dumb ass ended up getting evicted from the apartment she had, and her mom wouldn’t let her move back in, so my ole girl said that it would be okay if she stayed for a few months. I was just ready for her to get her ass out.
I grabbed the remote and quickly turned the television off. Then I grabbed my daughter up and bounced her around in my arms while I wiped away at her face, and she instantly stopped crying. We’d been in the house all day, so maybe her little ass needed some fresh air or something. I quickly slipped on my Nike slides that were by the front door, and I headed outside.
It was a little bit after 5:00 P.M., so of course, the projects were on smash. I took the steps down to the lower level, dapping up a few people that I knew from around the way, and I took the gate out until it led me to the playground. My daughter loved the little swings that they had out there, so when I saw that it was available, I walked the two of us over there.
There were a lot of kids outside today, but two kids who were back and forth from the slides to the monkey bars is what had my attention. If they were out there, then I knew that Journey wasn’t too far behind. I scanned the small playground area for her, and that’s when I saw her sitting down on a bench with a book in her lap that she was reading. I instantly noticed the change in her uniform. Usually, her school uniform colors were navy blue, gray, and white. This time, she was wearing red, navy blue, and white.
Seeing her didn’t do shit but further remind me of how much I missed her. I didn’t want to seem thirsty for her or no shit like that, so I pushed my daughter back and forth on the swing a few times, and then I finally took her out and made my way toward Journey. She finally looked up, and when she saw that it was me, she sucked her teeth loudly and finished reading whatever she was reading along with highlighting a few things.
“What’s up?” was the first thing that I asked her.
Hell, I didn’t know what else to say. I probably should have let an apology be the first thing I said, but I wasn’t big on those. I didn’t grow up saying I’m sorry. Growing up, it used to be my ole girl, myself, and my father. My father played a big role in my life until he was murdered when I was ten years old. Let my ole girl tell it, my father was nothing but a monster, but to me, he was who I aspired to be.
My ole girl often referred to my father as a monster because of the way that he would beat her ass on a daily basis. I would never have the balls to tell her this shit, but he couldn’t have been that much of a monster for her ass to have stayed with him for so many years. I just remember him always doing what he had to do to make sure that I was taken care of. I always had the latest shoes, he kept my apparel up to par, and just anything that I ever asked for, he would always provide. We’d always lived in the projects, but when he died, it forced my ole girl to take on the load of raising me on her own. Of course, we had a little struggle here and there, but never to the extreme where we were sleeping under a bridge or something like that.
Although my father was no longer here, my ole girl let me know every chance she got, that I reminded her so much of him. When she said it, she wasn’t saying it as a compliment either. She was referring to my disrespect for women, her hearing in the streets how I’ve had to slap a few bitches down here and there, and just my whole attitude in general. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I was a woman beater, but if the opportunity presented itself, then hell yeah, I would slap a bitch down.
“My little brother and sister are somewhere running around this park, and the last thing that I would want either of them to see is me conversing with you. Plus, my mom, auntie, and my grandma are upstairs in the apartment. You don’t have to make it a habit of speaking to me,” she let me know, with her head still in the book, not even bothering to look up and acknowledge me.
She had to have really been through with a nigga because this was the first time that she’d ever talked to me like this.
“On some real shit, Journey, I’m sorry. It took a lot out of me for me to even be able to apologize to you, but I really am sorry. You weren’t just pussy to me. I actually loved you. Hell, I still love your ass. I just knew that what you and I were doing was wrong, so I was saying hateful shit to you in an attempt to get you to hate me, so we could finally walk away from this shit for good. The past couple of months without seeing you, hearing your voice, or even being able to touch you, has been fuckin’ with my head heavy. I want shit to get back how they used to be between us.
Yes, we’ll have to sneak around and shit like that, but it’s better than not seeing each other period. As fucked up as it may sound, you know that getting an abortion was the better choice. You know damn well you hate kids. You tell me all the time how much your sister and brother get on your nerves. For real, bae, I’m sorry,” I let her know then put my hand on the bottom of her chin to get her to look up at me.
She glared back at me with those big ass hazel eyes, and I swear I was getting lost in her shits. I could also tell that I was winning her over with my words. Her face wasn’t as tough and hardcore as it was when I walked over there. In fact, it had managed to go back to that innocent look that she always had.
“What about hitting me? You haven’t apologized for that yet,” she said.
On some real shit, I’d do that again if need be. She was my girl, yet I had to hear that she was at school kissing on other niggas. Because I was desperate to get back into her good graces, I released a sigh and apologized for hitting her a while back, even though I really wasn’t sorry for that shit.
A small smile formed on her face, and I quickly dropped her chin. I reached inside the black gym shorts that I was wearing, and I handed her one of the burner phones that I had. I knew how her ole girl could be when it came to her phone, so this would have to work until she finally got her shit back.
“I’m going to text that phone tonight. You alright? You need anything?” I asked her, and she shook her head no.
I was glad she said that she didn’t need anything because money was kind of tight on my end. I spent the little money that I did have last night on my daughter, getting her some more formula and pampers. It’s cool though because when those street light
s come on tonight, I would be posted up, hoping that I could re-up on some money. I wasn’t happy with the way that I was living, but at the same time, I couldn’t just sit on my ass and not do shit.
I was a high school dropout, nineteen years old, still living with my ole girl, had a daughter that I could barely afford, plus I had a criminal record. I was arrested for shit like driving with a suspended license, shoplifting, or for having drugs on me, so you should already know that motha fuckas weren’t trying to hire me.
At times, I felt like hustling in the projects was going to be the only job that I would ever have, and that right there made a nigga angry at times. When I disrespected my ole girl and my baby mama along with other bitches that I was fuckin’ with, it wasn’t because I hated them. If anything, I hated myself. I hated the situation that I was in, so often times, I just took the shit out on them.
“I did get the abortion, Raheem,” she let me know, and I nodded.
Lord knows that I wanted to break down with the holy ghost dance, but I didn’t do that. I was barely back in her good graces, so I wasn’t trying to fuck it up with her already.
“You know it was for the best, Journey. I love you. Remember that shit,” I let her know.
“I love you too,” she quickly let me know.
When I saw her little brother and sister heading our way, I got the fuck out of dodge. Here I was again, playing with fire when it came to fuckin around with this little ass girl, but I just couldn’t shake her ass for whatever reason. For four more years, we would probably have to keep our shit a secret because that’s when she’d turn eighteen, but four years just didn’t seem that long. Either that, or I was trying to convince myself that it wasn’t that long.
14
Za’Kai “Bully” Kemp
“Look at this old ass nigga right here,” I joked, standing up from the cold, stainless steel chair that I was sitting on in the visitation room.
