“Get the fuck out of here!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, my body shaking with each word. “Get him the fuck out of heeeere!”
Before I knew it, I was surrounded by people. Demetrius Sr. wore a sad expression. His thick, dark, brows furrowed, his bottom lip quivering.
“Sere—
“Get out!” I yelled cutting him off. “Get him out of here!”
All of my cousins, plus the ushers had to hold me back. I tried to get at him. Wanted to pound his face with both my fists, I hated him so got damn much! Why was he here!? He didn’t belong here! I wanted him gone!
And after a couple of seconds, the police removed him. They escorted him out and I stood there, in the middle of the walkway, watching until he was out of the door.
After the funeral and burial,it was back to The Woods for the repast I didn’t want to have. Because it was a really nice day, in the high seventies, we were in the courtyard. My family had three barbecue grills going and had rented tables and chairs. There were blunts in heavy rotation, a table full of liquor, and mycousin Sharlita had a big storage tote filled damn near to the rim with jungle juice—a concoction of fruit, different liquors, and hella juice.
My uncle, Andre, had music playing from a big speaker sitting on the ground, blasting Blade Icewood’s, Boy Would You. While they did the Boss Up dance, I sat off on the side, arms crossed over my chest, hair pulled back into a ponytail, funeral clothes off, face free of makeup.
When we made it back this way, I went up to the apartment and changed into a pair of black leggings, a black tank, and a pair of pink crocs. Because my makeup was ruined, I washed my face, deciding not to do anything else to it. I was numb, really. Coasting through the day on auto pilot. My cousins were right by my side, trying to keep me uplifted by making jokes about some of the people who were at the funeral. They kept talking about Desiree and Meech’s bitch, Tata, too. They talked about everything but Demetrius Sr. showing up. While I appreciated what they were trying to do, it didn’t help.
I kept thinking about the man who killed my mother. Couldn’t get the smell of whatever he used as cologne out of my nose. Couldn’t escape the images of his face, as he stared down at me with eyes that used to comfort me when I was growing up. He wasn’t always a bad man. My daddy was top tier. Back when I referred to him as daddy. Something happened. Something horrible happened. I didn’t know what.Wedidn’t know what. He just… he snapped. Some people in The Woods said he was laced. There were rumors about it. Said he got ahold of some bad weed that sent him into psychosis. I didn’t know what it was. All I knew was that one day, I woke up to screaming that sent me into the living room where my mother was dead, lying in a pool of her own blood. My daddy… well… Demetrius… he stood over her, bloody knife in hand. He glanced from me to my momma’smotionless body, and dropped down to his knees by her side, cradling her head.
I was frozen.
Paralyzed by both fear and shock. I don’t know what happened after that. Don’t know who called the police. Couldn’t remember when Meech made it home. I just knew that the next time I came to… consciously… we were in a police station waiting for my Auntie Danielle to pick us up.
Seeing him brought all of those old feelings to surface. That, on top of dealing with seeing Meech for the last time was heavy. So heavy that as soon as I made it to the courtyard, I grabbed a cup and scooped a big ass cup of jungle juice up.
I’d been sipping on it since I sat down. People left me alone. They stopped offering condolences. And I was happy about it. Was honestly tired of hearing that shit, high key. Lakeland was busy chasing RJ around. Alani had drove off with one of the niggas from around the way. Dom was on one of the grills, helping with the food. Kiera helped too. Everybody had something going on and I was so grateful because despite appreciating their help, I didn’t want to be crowded. If it weren’t for the lonely, unsettling feeling being in the apartment gave me, I would have been up there. But… I couldn’t handle it. So I sat, quietly sipping from my cup, bobbing my head to one of Meech’s favorite songs.
“What up doe, sis?” Said Hood, rolling up beside me.
I took a sip of my drink. “Hey.”
“What you sippin on?” He asked, cocking his brow. “Hopefully not that shit Rita mixed up. Yo ass gon’ be threw!”
Lightly, I giggled. Forcing it. “Good.”
He parked his chair next to me. “You tryna smoke?”
“Nah. This gone get me right.”
“Naw,that’sgone get you fucked up,” he said with a laugh. Reaching into his pocket, retrieving his weed, he started to roll up.
I didn’t say anything.
I stared off into the distance, eyes landing on Vellz’s black ass. He was across the field, talking to a broad named Kenya. By the way she was moving her hands, I could tell she was cursing him out. I wondered if it was about me. I wondered if he was fucking Kenya, or if she was his girlfriend. Hopefully she wasn’t his girl because he had his entire tongue in my ass not even a week ago.
I shook my head and looked away, my eyes falling on the black Wagoneer pulling up in the parking lot. A couple of seconds later, Zeke got out the back, and then Kiss and Exodus got out right after. Were they at the funeral? I couldn’t remember. They had on all black like they were though. Zeke even had on a buttoned-up top. They had to be there.
I watched as they made their way across the field, heading for the courtyard. Exodus and Kiss looked so out of place. They kept their heads on a swivel, watching every which way, while Zeke maneuvered around, with ease, slapping hands with niggas, speaking to bitches. The Woods was like a second home to him. To his brothers? Foreign land. I hadn’t seen them in The Woods this much in forever. They usually only came around when the church did donation work or held little back-to-school gatherings.
A couple of minutes later, they were under the canopy. Individually, they spoke to Hood before addressing me. Zeke was first to speak. He leaned in for a hug that I didn’t return. Despite him not being responsible for Meech’s death for real, I still had ill feelings toward him, holding him somewhat accountable. I felt like he felt it too.
“You need anything?” He asked.
I shook my head.
I did need something. I needed my fucking brother.
Exodus chucked his chin, speaking, glanced at my cup and then back at me again. I threw my hand up to wave. Kiss offered his condolences. And then they just stood there. Next to me, hands stuffed into their pockets, looking around, bobbing their heads to the music. Every now and then I would catch Exodus looking at me. Well, not me per se… my cup. I frowned and took another sip.
