I locked eyes with him and released the one tear that dropped painfully from my right eye. Something inside of me told me to accept that this was my last moment with him. It hurt like hell but there was no escaping this.
I ain’t never been proud of Pops but never been ashamed of him either. I loved him, then sometimes hated him, especially for how he did my momma. Most of all I studied him and planned on studying him a little harder until I got of age to navigate my own life.
“Take it, K-Kenny…” He choked out eyes rolling with a smile on his face.
“Take the fuckin’ board, don’t let bitch ass Rosco manipulate your mind. He wants me to die a painful death, I’m happy.You got it all Kenric, the board, money, power…make sure your momma is good and tell her I love her pretty chocolate ass.” His hand twitched as it slowly opened. His hand was empty, but it felt like he intended to pass me something. Maybe it was the board he kept blabbering about.
The room door hit the wall, sweat glistened on Rosco’s bald head, his gun was tucked in his waistband. He didn’t plan on using his gun because he was confident in the damage the fiend already did to Pops. Rosco already looked at my Pops like he was nothing more than a distant memory. The look of triumph mirrored his face, and it made me sick to my stomach. He was going to be the man responsible for knocking Pops off his high horse.
He approached us and spit on the floor right next to Pops head.
“Hope you got your last words with this lil pussy ass boy of yours.” He nodded towards me.
He’ll be the first to take Pops out, but I’ll be the one who makes sure he can’t live to tell the story. I thought. Rosco thought I was weak and didn’t have the nuts to protect myself.
Pops tried to grab at Rosco, but he kicked him back then laughed. Rosco pulled his gun next and pressed it to my Pop’s forehead. I should have remained scared, should have begged and cried but I didn’t. I looked back out the window at the owl, and it blinked, tilting its head again and I swore that bitch nodded at me.
Rosco didn’t pay me any attention, that’s when a chess piece moved in my head and the board that my Pops kept talking about came alive, 3D alive in my head. He thinks shit is sweet and easy! I ain’t letting him murder us both! Fuck no!
I moved. Rosco didn’t see it fast enough. I grabbed the rusted revolver from under the mattress, the same one Pops told me never to touch unless I was ready to die with it in myhand. It was heavy, cold, like the air in the room. I lifted that bitch with shaking arms, aimed it at Rosco’s head while he was laughing all in my Pops face. He pulled the trigger on Pops at the same time I pulled the trigger on him.
Boom!
His blood shot out and hit the wall close to the door. Next his body dropped with twitching legs. Rosco’s eyes were wide open in shock. My ears rang, but I could still hear my Pops gurgling on his own blood. How is he still alive, I looked at the hole in his chest. Rosco shot Pops right in the heart, if I didn’t shoot him in enough time Pops head would have been next.
“Yeah…yeah…” Pops breath rattled as he whispered the words out. I wanted him to say more to me. Tell me all about the board that he mentally controlled for so many years.
He died seconds later; his blood mixed with Rosco’s blood that was next to him. I stood there, breathing hard, the gun still warm in my hand. I looked out the window, the owl was gone, but I felt it. Like it was inside of me now, his eyes were as sharp as mine, his feathers rustled inside of me. It felt like the owl’s wings stretched out in the dark part of my chest that I used to be scared to release. I felt the board in my hands, felt the power in the smoke that still clung to the barrel of the revolver.
I vowed to stop being the prey and become the predator. I had no choice but to step up and master my very own chess board then became the Grand Master. Unstoppable.
I walked out of the house with a heavy heart and Pops’ Cadillac keys clutched tight in my hands. I gotta get home to momma. I hated driving but was forced plenty of times when Pops was high out of his mind. Most times, he never admitted to being high, he’d just toss me the keys and expected for me to make magic happen.
“Is my dad coming out?” A small voice called out to me before I reached for the door handle of Pops car.
I looked right into the face of a freckled boy that looked younger than me. He had to be around eight years old. His red hair, and light complexion made me think that he was lying. He looked nothing like Rosco’s bitch ass.
“Who yo daddy?” I asked him, keeping my eyes glued on him.
I touched Pops revolver that was tucked in front of my blood-soaked jeans ready to aim it at him if he tried anything funny.
“Rosco.” He uttered timidly.
“That pussy dead.” I spat with no remorse.
MyPops dead too…Come see about me for revenge when you old enough to understand, and I’ll kill you too.I clenched my jaws tightly and offered no more words. I got in the front seat, slamming my door. My heartbeat calmed but my emotions were twisted in knots. I had to get to my mom, that in itself made me fearful of how she’d react to the news of her husband being dead. I turned the car on and drove with shaky hands all the way to Orange County. Each time I blinked my eyes, I saw Pops eyes, lifeless, and wide open.
The entire ride I kept gripping the wheel tight, I kept thinking of what to say and how to lay it out on her. There was no easy way at all to just say momma, Pops is dead. I turned onto our peaceful street and released a dreadful breath. My stomach flipped as I sat in the car for a second, hands still frozen on the wheel. Why didn’t I have anyone else to relay this type of message?
My stomach flipped as I eyed the blood that was still damp soaking through my pants. Pops blood. I looked over at our two-story home, well-manicured lawn with mini palm trees leading up to the porch and dropped several tears. Pops would bring me home at least once or maybe twice out of the busyweek of all of his trapping. I’d feel happy, safe and secure, moments I cherished and loved the most.
It’s when I was allowed to feel like a kid inside of a normal household. Moms would be happy to have us both here on the first day. When it got close to us getting ready to leave, she’d spazz out and accuse Pops of all the things that she thought he was doing, most of what she accused was true. How is life supposed to go without Pops?
I stepped out of the car; legs stiff, knees weak and walked up the steps with dread weighing me down. I needed momma, needed her to hold me and tell me we’d be okay. I dreaded saying the words out loud. Pops was her everything, I was okay with coming second to that as long as I had her. My biggest fear was her reaction to the heavy news that I had to confess to her.
I leaned down and reached underneath the mat for the spare key that said ‘Bless This Home’ in nice cursive letters. When I opened the door, the air hit me with something that made my chest tighten. Mary J. Blige, “My Life” crooned through the speakers.
“If you looked at my life and see what I see…”
