“You wonder where you're going when you die?” she asked him.
“Shit, probably to Hell.”
Snapping her neck toward him, she warned, “Van, you shouldn’t say things like that. Words have so much power.”
He smirked at her, resting one hand on the wheel.
“What? You act like I’m not telling the truth. After all the hell I’ve done, do you really think my name is written in the Book of Life? Be for real.”
“Yeah, I get that but you can change. We all can change and God can forgive us for our sins.”
He snorted just as the light turned green. “I love the way you think, Irish.”
“I’m being serious, Jovanis.”
“I know,” he replied. “That’s why I love you so much. You really care about where a nigga going when I die.”
“Well, of course I do. I don't wanna be at your funeral weeping because I think you're in Hell.”
“A funeral?” He scoffed. “I don't want no fucking funeral, Irish.”
“Why not?”
“Because that shit ain't necessary. I don't want a bunch of people, crying, knowing they didn’t fuck with me for real. Just get me cremated. No funeral.”
Irish shook her head. Jovanis could be so morbid at times.
“How do you know I’m not going to die before you?”
“‘Cause, God need you here on Earth to spread joy. You gonna live a long life. I don't think I am.”
“What did I just say? Don't talk like that.”
“A’ight, my bad.” He grinned at her. “But I'm for real on that funeral shit. I don't want one, Irish, and don't make nobody talk you into giving me one. Just get me cremated and throw my ashes in the ocean.”
The somberness was so thick it permeated the air. Nighttime had fallen as everyone stood in the park. Seeing the place where Jovanis took his last breath was so tortuous for Irish. Instead of a funeral, she had arranged a memorial balloon release. The news spread quickly after she posted the details online. It seemed as if the entire city had come out to showsupport to Jovanis. It was endearing to see but also a reminder that he was no longer with them.
Irish’s arm was tangled in Noble’s brawny one. She’d been glued to him ever since the shooting. Not feeling safe unless she was in his arms, Irish never wanted to let go. Cali was on the side of her and Ivory was in front of her. Noble’s brothers and Nuke weren’t present which puzzled her but she didn’t have the mental capacity to ask why. She figured they were on the hunt for the person who had shot at her and killed her best friend.
People sported RIP shirts with Jovanis’ face on the front. Red balloons floated through the atmosphere while one of the soldiers in TLM stood near the tree.
“This don't even seem real,” he confessed, briefly gazing at the ground. A bottle of Hennessy was in his hand. “Van was my nigga, and he ain't deserve what happened to him. But we gon’ find out who did this. And I put it on my mama that they gon’ pay for this shit.”
“Hell yeah we gon’ slide for Van!” someone yelled out.
“This is for Van.” He held up the bottle before gulping down a sip. “Long live Van.”
All of the balloons were released and ascended toward the sky. Irish put her head down, hoping to keep her tears captive until she got home. For the last forty-eight hours, she had drained her pain through her eyes. The agony was rooted in her bones, making her ache profusely. Eating had been a chore and that was only due to the baby inside her stomach. Knowing her first appointment was at the end of the week caused some concern since Irish hadn’t been taking care of herself.
“You good, baby?” Noble asked.
Irish gazed at him, noticing the genuine concern he held in his eyes. Not able to profess it verbally, she shook her head.
“It’s okay. I got you.” He kissed the top of her head.
Irish wondered if people thought she was insane for mourning her husband while wrapped in Noble’s arms. She noticed the inquisitive looks as they passed her. Some were bold enough to come up to her, asking if she was with Noble. He quickly shut them down, though.
“Wow, Jovanis had a lot of people that loved him,” Cali noted, looking around.
