I begged momma on the way home not to call Pops. Of course, she went against what I begged for and called him on the way home with tears in her eyes. She told Pops that I could face charges as an eight-year-old minor. Larson was transported to the hospital, his parents’ planned to press charges.
It wasn’t the fight that would get my ass beat purple and blue. It was the principle to Pops of me making my momma worry. He didn’t give a damn that he stressed her by leaving her home with me for days at a time. Pops believed that nobody, not even me, momma’s son to bring his wife distress.
Momma and I waited in my room in silence. Every couple of seconds her big sad eyes locked in with mine. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t upset with her, I didn’t feel like she betrayed me at all. Before I could move my lips to utter the words, Pops walked in, the air in my room became hard to breathe in.
He rocked a sharp black suit, gold chains heavy around his neck. He smelled like cologne mixed with weed and cigarettes. Momma quickly hopped up to her feet and stood by his side. She folded her hands in front of her like she was struggling to hold herself together.
“Kenny,” he growled, as he smoothly took a step in front of momma.
“You losing your damn mind in school? Got ya momma calling me in the middle of counting money in order to feed yo nappy headed ass?”
I dropped my eyes, but my chest still heaved from the anger that simmered inside of me towards Larson.
“He ruined my fuckin’ project.” I replied lowly.
“Kenny! Tell him to stop cursing so much.” Momma frowned, stepping next to Pops.
I rolled my eyes, because Pops wouldn’t dare tell me that. He let me curse and even taught me how to cook up crack when I was seven. Pops ignored her and grilled me hard.
“Get yo ass up, you coming with me.” He stated calmly.
“Wait,” Momma’s voice cracked, it was soft but firm. She stepped in front of Pops blocking his path to me like a shield.
“He’s not just acting out, Kenny. He has a diagnosis. The doctor said impulsiveness, bipolar?—”
“Fuck that,” Pops face twisted as the veins in his forehead pressed against his forehead.
“Ain’t shit wrong with my boy.” He laughed bitterly.
For just a second, I bit back my smile. I liked to believe nothing was wrong with me. But the strong urge to act out on all my intrusive thoughts started to falter as the days went by.
“I done told you bout trying to put soft ass labels on him. He ain’t sick, he strong. That fire in him? That’s the streets calling. You wanna drown it in pills? Boy get yo ass up and head down to the basement!” He yelled in momma’s face.
I weakly stood to my feet, my stomach twisted up. Thoughts of how far Pops would go with this ass whooping had me frozen in place.
“He’s just a child, Kenny. He needs more understanding; more love from the both of us. Not punishment.” Momma tried to reason with him.
“What he need is to learn discipline. Learn the code of power. School can’t teach him that, but I will. From now on, you ain’t wasting time in no fuckin’ classrooms. You gone learnhow to make muthafucka’s bow. Show them that the board of power is in your hands!” He spat out bitterly.
“Josephine, I done told you about getting in the way of how I raise my boy. Take yo prissy ass down to the kitchen and start dinner.” He demanded.
“Don’t hurt my baby, Kendrick.” Momma stood her ground then turned to look at me with reassuring eyes.
I wanted to feel the security in her stare but already knew it was pointless. She quietly walked out, closed the door behind her and Pops talked lowly. It was the same calm measured tone that I saw him take with men on the streets before he killed them.
“One day, you’ll find only one woman that’s meant for you. You’ll go through plenty of hoes, but it’ll only be one that make your heart beat differently.” He pulled a blunt from behind his ear.
He lit it, seconds later he coughed violently. My brows bunched together when I smelled the faint smell of weed laced with crack. Pops hid nothing from me or momma. He didn’t believe in walking on eggshells in a home that he provided for his family. Pops was unapologetically him; he didn’t explain or give any excuses to who he was.
“A man without a woman is half a fuckin’ man. You can’t even spell woman without man being the last letters in the word. Wherever there’s a king, a queen is close by reigning supreme over his heart but never his mind. Josephine is the only woman that I will ever bend my will for to a certain extent. That extent stops at you.” He smiled sinisterly.
“You came from me, my ball sack. She just carried you. Josephine belongs to me, just like you do. You will do what the fuck I say, whenever I say it.” He blew smoke out in my direction.
“So, when I told you to go down to the basement, you should have moved right away.” He pointed the laced blunt my way.
“I’m sorry, Pops.” I uttered lowly.
“Nah you ain’t. You meant it. No son of mines is weak nor sorry. So, remember, never apologize for some shit you meant. Save that shit for your soul mate.” He smirked with the blunt tucked between his dark purple lips.
