“Lucky for your son, I don’t get on boats with people I don’t like,” Remedy fired back, focusing on washing the dishes.
“Who do you get on boats with?” Erys posed, taking a seat at the head of the kitchen table.
“Again, you’re in my business. Get up out of it,” Remedy smoothly fired back.
Ernie mouthed, “Told you.”
“You gonna sit down and eat?” Erys asked.
“I’m good, y’all eat,” Remedy said, dropping another pan into the sink.
“How do I know you’re not trying to kill me?” Erys taunted, making her eyes dart up to him.
“Because if I so choose to end your life, I’d want to look you in your eyes. Being that I don’t like looking at you, it’s the very least of your worries. Anything else, Franklin?”
Erys sat back in his seat and motioned her to the seat. “Yeah, sit down and eat. I already told you I’m not above force feeding you. I’d like not to exercise that skill.”
“Or the lack thereof?” Remedy quipped, needing the last word. She continued washing the last of the dishes before sitting down. “Happy?”
“Not even remotely,” Erys muttered into his glass of water. “Pops, bless the food so I know she’s not trying to get me up out of here.”
“Ernie, bless the food so I don’t have the urge of scooping his beady little eyes out,” Remedy snipped.
“You wouldn’t. You don’t have the heart.” Erys was finding joy in bothering her.
“Let me pray so you two can shut the fuck up,” Ernie huffed. “Dear lawd, amen.”
Remedy looked at him. “When’s the last time you prayed?”
“Couldn’t tell you but if I have to listen to this shit,” Ernie said, swinging his finger between the two. “I’m going to be locked in with God.”
Erys smirked.
“Don’t smirk at me, Franklin,” Remedy huffed. “I’ll snatch your lips off your face.”
11
“Ask her,” Ernie thought he was whispering but Remedy could hear him from the living room as she walked down the steps in the sweat suit she had on the night before.
“Man, you’re trying to set me up and I don’t appreciate that shit. She’s your bestie, you ask her,” Erys huffed back, dropping his phone on the cushion between them.
Ernie felt lighter being in Erys’ presence. Remedy knew that’s what he needed. What he longed for. At some point, Erys might be enough for him and she could slip out. That was her fear talking because as comfortable as this could be, she was too close to her trauma.
“I can hear y’all. I can’t see a damn thing but I can hear,” Remedy sounded off, coming fully into view. “What do y’all want?”
“Erys wants dinner. Like a Sunday dinner,” Ernie spoke up.
Remedy squinted her eyes. “Considering Franklin doesn’t know what seasoning is if it hits him in his face, I highly doubt he wants a Sunday dinner. It’s not even Sunday.”
“It’s my birthday though, on Sunday. That’s what that bitch at the nursing home said. Mr. Moore, you’re going to be seventy-seven on Sunday, you’re too old to be acting like this. Bet I showed them how old I was,” Ernie stated. “When is Sunday?”
“In two days,” Remedy said. “What do you want for your birthday, Ernie?”
“Some big booty bitches. Some good food. Maybe a blunt? Can I get a blunt?” Ernie asked.
“Don’t look at me,” Remedy shared with her hands up. Her probation ended months ago but that was something she kept to her chest. “Ask Franklin. Isn’t he a Trae Way Gangsta?”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Mouth?” he shot back.
