I was gonna protect her. She said she was riding, and so was I.
Eris was sprawled out across the bed. I was half-sleep, shifting toward the bathroom to take a piss and deal with some shit I’d been avoiding. The TV was on low, drowning out sound. ESPN covered the latest topic.
Shots of Eris and me from the premiere flashed across the screen. The reporters were intrigued, saying if this was a fling or something permanent. Running with any narrative that fit their story– anything for views and clicks.
I shook my head and continued to the bathroom.
I finished, washed my hands then leaned toward the mirror preparing myself. Taking a long breath. Almost like a mothafucka was nervous.
Eris stepped in moments later.
“I was dreaming about swimming and knew–”
The silence was loud.
I didn’t stop. Kept my head straight and continued with removing my prosthetic eye.
I allowed her to see me. Fully see me. Not Rayzor. This was Courtland. This was a secret I shielded from the world. A part of me that I felt was a curse.
“Courtland–” she squawked, full of emotion.
“It’s a fake,” my voice stern, but that pain was on edge. I placed it back in. Deliberate.
Her hand softly laid on top of mine. Not a tremble. Not fear. But empathy.
I hadn’t felt empathy from a woman since mama.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
I turned to her.
“Didn’t know how you would take it.”
“I’m not shallow.” She swallowed. “I mean… yeah, I have some ‘no’s, but this? This isn’t something you can control.”
I washed my hands then exited into the dark. It was a heaviness in my chest thinking about how this shit would shift what we had going on. I purposely kept this part of my life separate. Darkness from the light.
But Eris was my sunshine that I liked having around.
I killed the TV.
She finished handling her business and came back to bed.
We laid in silence– a heavy one.
“How did it happen?”
“I was hanging with my Pops…”
The memories and the twinge in my chest wouldn’t stop. That pain that got better was hitting me heavy as fuck right now. All I could do was think about those last moments.
“After his last fight, a nigga ran–stabbed him up. They say it was supposed to be a robbery, but I can’t remember if they took shit.”
She grabbed my arm like she visualized the trauma. “Rayzor, my God.”
“I know.”
“You couldn’t have done anything to stop it. I’m sorry about your father.”
