“After we talk about what just happened,” I insist in a soft tone.
“You’re tired. Let’s just go upstairs,” he says, deflecting.
“If that’s where you want to be, I’ll go upstairs, but I’m not going to be able to sleep with your face looking like this.” I raise my hands to his sorrowful face and caress it. “Baby, please talk to me,” I say and he closes his eyes. He grabs my right hand, brings it to his lips, and pecks it. “Let’s go,” I tell him.
After taking his hand, I lead him to the stairs and continue to hold it until we reach his bed. Once in his room, I remove his shirt and climb into bed, lifting the covers and motioning for him to join me. Before getting in, he exhales so loudly I feel it vibrate through me.
This is hard for him.
I heard Kadean’s words as clear as water but everything in me knows there’s more to the story.There has to be.The loving and caring man I’ve come to know and care for couldn’t have killed his mother. I refused to accept that on face value. When he eases back on his pillows, I inch closer, place my head on his chest, reach behind his neck, and gently massage it. I feel his tense body slowly relaxing underneath me then, in a low tone, he begins.
“Kadean was eleven. I had graduated two weeks before and it was the middle of June. My momma was so high she missed my graduation. By seventeen, I had come up and was controlling my own block but I knew I wanted to get my diploma. No matter how late I was out, I was home by seven so I could get Kadean and myself to school. Afterwards, I would grab us some food, then hit the block. She was so strung out, I doubt she even knew what grade Kadean was in,” he says, then lifts his head.
“But you gotta know, I never served her and I made sure no one on my block did either. I wasn’t gonna help her ruin my little brother’s life. It didn’t matter though, because even though I wouldn’t give her a dime, she always found somebody to cop from. I don’t even want to guess how she copped it either,” he says while shaking his head.
“I paid the rent, all utilities, made sure Kadean had the snacks and shit he liked, and bought all his clothes and kicks. She didn’t do shit but get high and lay around in the living room. Shit was crazy.”
“Me and Terrance, the one who detailed your car, were running shit together. We even had a little one bedroom in the PJs we hustled out of. Shit had no furniture really, just a bed, two TVs, and a card table with chairs. Our little runners would chill there and we kept our stash there in a safe hidden in the wall. I never let Kadean go there either. One of us was already in it, I didn’t want that for him.”
As he speaks, so many thoughts and questions trespass my mind but I keep them all there. It’s clear he doesn’t like talking about this so I don’t want to interrupt or stop his flow in any way. I simply hold him and listen.
“That day, Kadean was at basketball camp. Terrance and I were pushing up on some ho…girls on the block. CFPD was on the block heavy. They had passed us one time too many. I had an eight pack on me and a Glock. Just in case the police tried something, I slipped my shit to one of our new lil runners. I told him to take it to the crib,” he says, then exhales. “I should have kept the shit on me.”
“The police never rode by again and my shit didn’t make it to me and Terrance’s trap spot. The lil runner took it to my actual crib and gave it to my moms,” he says and my heart stops.
He chokes on his words a little then pauses. I feel him move his arm and shift, but I don’t budge, for fear of seeing his trueemotions. I’m on the verge of tears myself and I’m not the one who lived it.
“Kadean found her. My little eleven-year-old brother found our mother lifeless on our living room floor. He called 911 and watched as they tried to revive her. He found her and it was my fault,” he says and the guilt in his voice is crushing. “She smoked the entire eight pack and it was too much. She ODed and he found her.”
“All I had to do was keep the damn eight pack on me. I panicked and it cost her life. Kadean is right. That shit is my fault. I’ve carried that with me every day, especially how it fucked him up. It eats at him, causes him to drink, and has him being reckless all the damn time. I’ve tried everything I can to make it up to him, but I realize now, it’s not enough. It’s never enough,” he says, then sighs.
Then there’s another long pause. When this one lasts longer than five minutes, I sit up and rest my head next to his. When I turn to him, the mist in his red eyes temporarily cripples me. I can feel his love for his brother, the sadness from what happened, and the guilt eating at him. He’s hurting and I don’t know what to do. I just wrap my arms around him and hold him. Seconds later, his embrace engulfs me and as he holds on to me; his chin is resting on my head.
As we hold each other, I try hard to gather my thoughts and compose my words. The situation is delicate, very delicate. Losing a mother is hard, so very hard. I process that reality every day. I know my words have to be sensitive and understanding.
“I can’t tell you how to feel. No one can. That is all you. I’m so sorry that happened to your mom, to you, and to Kadean. I really am,” I say, then lift my head. I want to look into his eyes when I speak my next sentiments. “But, baby, I can tell you that you didn’t make her use. That was her choice.”
“But it was my shit,” he counters.
“But you didn’t give it to her. You’ve punished yourself long enough. You’ve got to let that go. I know you’ll never be over losing her but you have to forgive yourself. You have to release some of the guilt. If you don’t, you’re going to drain yourself trying to repay a debt to Kadean that you don’t owe.”
“He’s my brother,” he insists.
“He’s a man. A grown ass man who has to figure this out for him and his unborn child. You stepped in and raised him. Now, he has to take accountability for his actions. Just like you didn’t make your mom smoke, you didn’t make Kadean drive with no license in a stolen truck. He did that. I’m not saying don’t help your brother. I would never say that, but don’t risk or sacrifice what you have for him. From his tone and words, I don’t think he knows the severity. He’s not in the headspace for that. Honestly, he needs to talk to somebody and maybe you do too.”
“We did that when I first got custody of him. I had to take parenting classes and we both had to speak with a therapist.”
“He was a kid then. Maybe he needs more. I don’t know. I just know you can’t let him guilt trip you into cleaning up the messes he keeps causing.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“You said it yourself. You can’t lose this townhouse or your business,” I remind him, then decide to shut up. A lot has been said and I already feel like I might have gone too far.
After a few moments he stares into my eyes and utters, “You’re right, baby. You’re right.” He plants a kiss on my forehead then softly kisses my lips. “I’ll figure this shit out in the morning. I love you,” he adds.
He loves me.
At his words, my entire body smiles. Because of the moment though, I suppress the smile on my actual face. Instead, I simply let my heart speak what I’ve been feeling as well.
