Mook hadn't cooked for me in years. A lot of things had changed since our high school years together. He was now more in the streets, and his main concern was the next come-up.
I should've stopped and grabbed myself something, but I was too tired. I'd wait until tomorrow to eat, but I hoped like hell Mook didn't forget to feed Deshoni. He was our son. Mook wouldn't forget to feed him, at least I hoped not.
When I made it inside the building, I hiked up two flights of stairs to the second floor. As I walked down the hall, the sound of a child crying perked me up, and my eyes opened a little more. The wheels in my sleep-fogged brain started to turn like a hamster on a wheel. I knew that cry. That cry was very distinct. It was my son crying.
Deshoni had a distinct cry because he always sniffled two times between every cry. I ran the remainder of the way to the end of the hall. My hands shook as I fumbled with my keys.
All kinds of horrible thoughts filled my head as I struggled to unlock my door. My heart raced, and perspiration appeared out of nowhere. Deshoni's desperate cries continued to spike my anxiety and soar through me.
My baby needed me. Finally, I'd gotten my door open and burst through like a psychopath. The front door slammed against the wall, then slammed closed behind me.
I dropped my purse and backpack while a high Mook laid asleep on the couch. That nigga could sleep through anything, especially when he was high off those pills. I bolted to the back and into Deshoni's room.
He sat up in his bed and cried his little heart out. My poor baby. I scooped him up so fast and held him tightly to my chest.
"Shh. It's okay, baby. Mommy is here. I got you now, son." I soothed him as best as I knew how.
I cradled his chunky body and bounced him while I walked out of his room. His pull-up was soaked, and so were the clothes he wore to daycare today. Ain't no telling how many times he peed on himself or if he even ate.
It looked as if Mook had brought him home and shoved him right in his room so he could get high. I walked back into the living room and observed it. Deshoni's cries had slowed down, but he sniffled repeatedly.
Now that he was with me, he was able to relax, and I could really access the living room. Mook had pills all over the table. It looked at first as if he'd started packaging some before he got high. The semi-filled and empty baggies laid next to a stack of small white and light green pills. There was also a pile of powdered coke present. I shook my head. Drugs ruined lives and households. I knew all too well.
My baby boy and I could no longer live like this. We deserved better. If Mook wanted to change like me, then he would. I had a feeling he never would, though.
Tears coursed down my face because it was time to let go. My high school sweetheart needed help, but at this point, only God could help him. He was too far gone for me to continue trying to convince him he was worth so much more.
I walked over to him and repeatedly kicked the shit out of Mook's legs until he groggily sat up. Mook's bloodshot eyes opened. He looked so confused until they settled on me and our son. He gave me a lazy smile.
"Hey, hey, bae. What's wrong?"
Mook clumsily rose and tried to reach for Deshoni, but I stepped back so he couldn't grab him. The smile that was once on his face melted, and his brows furrowed together. "What the fuck is up, Travel?"
"You!" I spat. Deshoni flinched in my arms. I felt so bad for scaring him.
"I came home from class, and Deshoni was screaming at the top of his lungs. He's soaked from his own piss, and he still has the clothes on he wore from daycare. Did he even eat? Yo' ass is passed out on the couch with pills everywhere. What if hehad climbed out of his own bed and eaten some of those pills or the coke? You know, having this shit out is bad for my own recovery."
I sighed, fighting back my own tears because I knew what I had to do.
"Mook, I'm tired of this shit. I'm over it. I can't do this anymore. If I can change my life around for our son, so can you. You just refuse to change. I'm done, Mook," I expressed in an exhausted tone.
"What the fuck you mean? You leaving me? Okay, I fucked up, but ain't no breaking up. You get that idea out yo' fuckin' head right now. Travel, don't play. You know what we got is for life!" he stated with wide eyes and a menacing tone. He stepped in front of me, and his eyes bored into mine.
When Mook was gone off those pills, there was no telling what he was capable of. Still, if I backed down now, he'd forever try to bully me. I took a step back and tightened my grip around my son.
My eyes wandered over the man I once loved so deeply, but he was no longer the boy I once knew. He was coated in a beautiful brown complexion, with light brown eyes, and long brown locs.
Mook was fine as hell. He knew it, too, because I'd definitely bodied plenty of bitches he fucked around with behind my back. It was his height, broad shoulders, medium build, and bowlegs that made me and every other bitch drool, not to mention his tongue play was the best I'd ever had. Well, he was the only man I'd ever been with after all, but that was still my opinion.
As physically attractive as he was on the outside, it didn't make up for the cold piece of work he could be. Now was one of those times.
I swallowed hard. "Mook, don't force me to call the police and your probation officer. I'm going to clean Deshoni up, then we'll be out of your house."
I went to walk away when Mook gripped my arm.
"You tryin' to leave me and head to that bitch ass nigga, Trek? What y'all gon' be a family with my muthafuckin' son? I'll die before I let that happen."
"Trek is my best friend!" I shouted. "How many times do I have to tell yo' high ass that?" I snatched my arm out of his grip and stumbled back against the table.
