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Thirteen
Amaru
My brother was making me regret stopping by my mom’s house. When I dropped AJ off earlier, she asked me to stay. I told her I couldn’t because I had to stop by Milli’s place, and she asked me to come back when I was done. Something told me to take my ass home, but I wanted to honor my word to her. We hadn’t been spending a lot of time together. When she wanted AJ for the weekend, I usually would either drop him off or take her to lunch so we could spend time together outside the house. I was cool with her coming to my house whenever she wanted but going to the home she raised me and my brothers in with my father, knowing he would no longer be there, fucked with me.
Dad died almost a year ago, and me and my two brothers handled it differently, to say the least. My oldest brother overworked himself to avoid how he was feeling, my middle brother drank until he was blackout drunk, and me… I tried not to think about it at all. Avoidance had been working. I told myself he was on a much-needed vacation and that I’d see him again soon.
I could tell by Amir’s eyes that he was already heavy on his liquor for the day, and it was just after two p.m. To avoid arguing with him, I’d been sitting at the table talking to Mama. She was having a moment and reminiscing about Dad was making her feel better, even though hearing her talk about him in the past tense was making me feel worse. For her, I would endure.
She wiped a few tears as she told me for what felt like the millionth time how they met. I listened, providing as much excitement as I could. Because I was still in denial about Dad’s death, moments like this left me paralyzed. They made her feel better, but they forced me to accept a reality I wasn’t ready to accept yet.
“That’s enough of that,” she said with a laugh, wiping an escaped tear. “What’s up with you?”
I was glad she was shifting the conversation from Dad. Maybe I was biased, but I believed I had the best parents in the world. Even their flaws were correct. From a young age, they made sure my brothers and I understood they were parents, but they weren’t perfect. They were learning about life and love too, and I always respected them for that. Dad was the reason I valued showing my son how to be a father and husband, while Mama was the one who taught me how to be a lover and gentleman. With them, I had the best of both worlds.
As I contemplated what I wanted to share, I figured that would be a good space for me to talk to Mama about my changing feelings for Amelia. She was still my best friend, but the romantic thoughts and desires I’d been having lately were extremely intrusive, and I’m not exactly sure where they came from. Before I could confess my feelings, Amir was shuffling into the dining room.
“Let me get the keys to the truck, Ma. I’m about to meet up with Tony,” he said, referring to Mecca’s cousin.
They both, in my opinion, were alcoholics who needed to go to rehab. Mecca and I were the only people who tried to get them to see how dangerous their lifestyle was, but they didn’t care to listen. My worst fear was getting a call in the middle of the night that my brother had gotten into an accident and killed someone else or himself. Mama was stern yet loving, but she had a soft spot when it came to Amir. Maybe it was because he didn’t handle his emotions well and she felt she needed to coddle him. Whatever the case, I hated that she wasn’t as honest with him about his choices as she should have been.
With a sigh, Mama shook her head and crossed her hands on top of the table. It was clear she didn’t want to give him the keys to Daddy’s truck, but the chances of her actually saying that were slim to none.
“I don’t know, Mir,” she said hesitantly.
Sucking his teeth, Amir plopped down in the seat next to her. “I’ma be back before you go to sleep. I promise.” That was a lie. Mama had taken his house key two weeks ago to try and force him to come home at a decent hour. That didn’t stop his late-night alcoholic binges. It only forced Amir to sleep in the car or at someone else’s house.
That’s right. My thirty-eight-year-old brother was living at home with our mother. For the past two years, he’d been back. Dad gave him a year here to get back on his feet after he lost his job, but since he passed and Mama was a bit lonely in the house, she hadn’t put him out. Amir had long since gotten a job, but he blew all his money on alcohol and traveling. He had a BMW parked on the street that needed a new transmission that he refused to pay to get fixed, so Mama let him drive Dad’s truck for work. Somehow, that led to him driving it when he was off, and both me and Adam told her not to do that.
Amir was the kind of person who was hard on cars and had a lot of accidents—sober and drunk. I still had no clue how he hadn’t been arrested with a DUI charge yet. God truly had to have a guardian angel with him, because the way my brother lived, I don’t see how he survived most of his nights out.
“I can smell the alcohol on your breath,” I commented. “You don’t need to be driving nowhere.” I took the keys from the center of the table, and though it was subtle, I saw Mama’s body relax. Even if she didn’t want to be the one to say it, she knew Amir didn’t need to be driving anywhere, in anything, especially not in my daddy’s truck. That truck was his pride and joy, and I refused to let Amir wreck it.
“Nigga, you ain’t my daddy,” he almost yelled with his chest poked out, pounding his fist.
He did that a lot—quick temper tantrums that hardly ever got him his way.
“Still, you ain’t driving the truck. I can drop you off, or you can have someone pick you up, but the truck is off-limits.”
Sucking his teeth, Amir jumped from his seat, knocking his chair back in the process. “You gon’ come up off them keys, bro.”
At the sound of the commotion, Adam made his way from the bedroom that was closest to the living room. With its open concept, the living room and dining room were connected, and to the left was the kitchen and a smaller breakfast nook that we used for kids when we had holiday dinners here.
“Y’all good?” Adam confirmed, standing by Mama and placing his hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah. Your brother is trying to drive Daddy’s truck,” I informed him.
Adam’s head immediately shook. Though he was the oldest brother, he was the most laidback. Amir was the one who tried to run shit, and that was why we often butted heads. We were either the best of friends or the worst of enemies—there was no in-between.
“Nah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Adam said. “You’ve had a lot to drink already, Mir.”
Amir released a low chuckle before running his tongue over his cheek. “Just like I told him, you ain’t my daddy. I’m going to do whatever the fuc—”
“Hey!” Mama yelled, standing to her feet. “Watch your mouth. That’s enough.”
“Just give me the keys,” Amir said, trying to walk around the table, but he couldn’t even do that without bumping into it.
Chuckling, I shook my head and put them in my pocket. “Take ’em,” I challenged, knowing damn well I’d beat his ass. It wouldn’t be the first time. He always started talking the most shit when he was drunk, and he couldn’t fight for shit with that alcohol in his system. When he was sober, he was a solid contender for someone, but drunk? Amir was always getting laid out. That’s why Adam and I hated going out with him these days… especially if he was with Tony. It always led to us having to de-escalate a situation or fight because he’d stepped to the wrong person.
