“Neither do I. I don’t even like him. He’s your son,” Remedy argued.
“You’re his age. I think,” Ernie huffed. “Erys, how old are you?”
“Thirty-five,” Erys answered.
“Ain’t you thirty-five too?” Ernie asked Remedy. “Y’all can talk about the tok tak shit you show me.”
“And still on the pole? I hope not,” Erys muttered because he couldn’t help himself. Earning a fiery comeback from her was starting to serve as something to do for kicks and giggles.
“Fuck you, nigga,” Remedy shot back. “I see why y’all can’t stand each other. That fuckin’ mouth. I’m twenty-nine, Ernie, and I’m only tolerating him and this for you. So get in the front seat so we can go, would you?”
Ernie huffed. “Fine. Only because of you.”
“Same,” Remedy muttered, climbing in the back seat.
“Don’t slam my door,” Erys demanded right before Remedy made eye contact with him and slammed the door.
As she settled into the back seat, she was instantly reminded that her car was a beater and her life was a mess. The leatherseats held her tired body and the smoothness of the ride settled her slightly. She kept her eyes trained on the neighborhood as Erys pushed his truck through.
“Remedy,” Ernie called. “That’s the corner my jit tried to rob me on.”
Remedy tilted her head to the side. He only told her the story a day ago but she was sure to let him tell her the details. “Oh really? You tried to rob your own father. Wow.”
“I almost put something hot in his ass. Here he is running up on me, on my block with my bitches. Pants hanging off his ass, hair wild and a black bandana around his neck. Nigga called himself being a gangsta, ‘til he met one,” Ernie recalled. “I had to put his ass down, Remedy. He thinks ‘cause he big now, I won’t lay him down.”
Now, Ernie was just talking shit – amusing nonetheless – but still shit.
“I know you can, Ernie,” Remedy encouraged, earning a subtle twisted expression from Erys in the rearview mirror. “In fact, I’ll help.”
“Girl, stop playing,” Erys muttered.
“Shut up when you talkin’ to me,” she muttered back.
When they got to the laundromat she was the first one out and headed inside to break her dollar bills down into change. True to their routine, Ernie would slowly get out the car, peep the scene and post up outside on the bench. Her bringing him along was solely for him to get out the house and feel a sense of normality again. As she claimed her washers, Erys rolled the carts of clothes in.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he started.
“You think?” she quipped.
“You slapped me. Had you been anyone else-”
She turned to look at him and squinted her eyes. “What, you would’ve hit me back? Been there, done that. I fight back. What else?”
Erys gave her a loaded look. “Nah. Fuck you take me for?”
“Nothing actually. I’m a dancing hoe, I don’t expect much from anyone. Anything else?” Remedy grunted, hoping her attitude would ward him away. “I got this. It’s going to take a few hours. I got him, you can go do whatever it is that you do.”
Erys took the cart holding his father’s soiled clothes that Remedy had handwashed and moved to the neighboring washer. “Lucky for you and that attitude, I cleared the whole day to drive y’all around. I don’t trust the trouble you two will get into without supervision.”
“Trouble didn’t happen until you showed up. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been next door a year now and no one has come to see about him. No one. All of a sudden-”
“I was away. Fifteen years. I couldn’t just come back,” Erys said.
“Which prison?” Remedy questioned, studying him slowly. Nothing about his demeanor gave prison. He was far too frigid and clean-cut for a man that spent fifteen years behind bars.
“Wraith.”
She groaned. “Make sense. One of those arrogant military men who think their above everyone else. That’s on brand.”
