Authors: Tracy Brown

Criminal Minded (20 page)

BOOK: Criminal Minded

2.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

I picked Olivia up from the set on a Friday in September. I was happy to see her since, as always, she looked like a lollipop. After I gave her a kiss and felt her up a little, I got around to asking about how her day went. She said, “I heard a little something about our boy, Doug.” Then Olivia handed me a jewel.

Doug had a weakness for some broad around the way. Her name was Keesha, and she had loose lips, always braggin’ to her friends about how much time she spent with Doug. Where they went, what they did, what he bought her were always her topics of conversation. Keesha was sexy, but she was edgy. Her vocabulary consisted of more slang terms and four-letter words than anything else. But she was fly, and most of the niggas from around the way wanted her. A couple had already had her.

“I heard Keesha talkin’ in the shop today about Doug’s case. She said everybody thinks Doug is on the run because he’s snitching. But in reality, Doug is stayin’ with her at her apartment on Brabant Street. She said Doug feels like niggas wanted him to take the fall but instead he’s takin’ over the streets …”

“She said this to
you?”
I asked.

Olivia shook her head. “Nah. I was in the back under the dryer with a magazine. She didn’t see me when she walked in, asking for a wash and set. That bitch came in and was sittin’ up front with Nia talkin’ ‘bout Doug’s gonna be runnin’ shit. He’s lockin’ down Staten Island, going for self I was just listening and soakin’ it all up.” Olivia
told me that after waiting for about half an hour, Keesha and Nia left—never knowing that they had just put the opportunity of a lifetime right in my hands.

I probed deeper. “What else she say?”

“She was just braggin’ as usual. Tellin’ Nia about their trip to Cancun for two weeks. It sounded like she was trying to convince everybody that Doug is not a snitch; that he’s not running.”

“What building that ho live in?”

“She lives at 150 Brabant Street. Remember we went to that card game at her house that time?”

I knew right then that I had him. I pulled up in front of her grandparents’ house and told Olivia to go inside and wait there for me. She looked at me like she suspected something, but she gathered her things and climbed out. I was ready to pull off, but she stopped me.

“Zion, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you want him. But don’t do somethin’ you’ll regret later on.”

I smiled. Olivia was too much sometimes. She knew me a little too well. “Don’t worry your pretty head. I got this.”

I winked and drove away.

I called a meeting with my two remaining lieutenants. Cezar and Def were two who I trusted because they proved themselves time and time again. I laid out the consequences of being a Judas in my camp. I was confident that my two remaining cohorts would continue to be loyal, so we discussed retribution. Once everything was finalized, it was on.

I parked my car by the Big Park and waited in the dark. I sat patiently, puffin’ on a blunt, thinkin’ about Doug. He was supposed to be my man. In the streets you don’t make friends, you make money. But I liked Doug’s style and how he held shit down. One of my most valued soldiers was a snitch and it was time to settle the score. I looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was 8:25, and my adrenaline started rushin’ like crazy.

I saw Doug walk up. That muthafucka! He was alone, walking with his head down and a hat pulled low over his eyes. He was disguised, but I could tell his walk. My car radio was playing Mobb Deep’s “Shook Ones.” I waited, holdin’ the gun in my hand as I slouched down in the driver’s seat. I had to force myself to wait until the time was right. I had to follow the plan to the end. But I was so tempted to run over and squeeze off every bullet in my clip. Then I got my cue. Def came out of the building. With his hand in his pocket, Def walked toward Doug. Doug’s hat was low, but he recognized Def as he got closer to him. Doug turned and bolted back toward Brabant Street. But, he was met by Cezar, who approached from behind him. Doug had nowhere to run but right into my hands.

By the time he made it to the parking lot, where I was waiting, I was right up on him with my gun drawn. He was running at top speed, but he screeched to a halt when he saw me. The look in his eyes when he saw me was one of pure surprise.

“Why you ain’t been calling me, nigga!” I squeezed off four shots in succession, and he ran for cover. My own face was covered with a hat and sunglasses, but I honestly didn’t care who saw me. The nigga tried to set me up. I had one thing on my mind and that was to kill that muthafucka. I knew I hit him at least once, but the sonofabitch was fast. He dropped to the ground and rolled behind a car, all while reaching for his gun. But I was on him. Before he could cock his shit, I had my gun at his temple. “You snitch bitch! You selling me out, Doug? Huh? Why you ain’t get at me, Doug?”

Doug pissed in his pants. “FUCK YOU!” he yelled. I could see the blood seepin’ through his shirt. I laughed at him and squeezed off, killing him instantly with a shot between the eyes. Cezar and Def scattered. I calmly strolled back across the parking lot, got in my car, and drove home.

Mission accomplished. That night, I thought back to me and Olivia on the grind, and all the times we met up with Doug over breakfast out of state. Me and Olivia would drive into town and meet up with Doug at a down low spot. He was a soldier, down for the
cause from day one. All of us knew we were there for business. But we got along so well it was a pleasure to see him. Doug met us in other cities by whatever mode of transportation necessary to help us get that product. Olivia sensed what was on my mind. She understood me that much. We sat in the living room at my place and reminisced on Doug.

“Remember the time we all ate breakfast at the IHOP in DC before we drove into B-More?” Olivia sipped from her glass filled with E&J. “Doug was makin’ fun of my stilettos?”

I laughed. “Word, Doug was like, ‘Where you runnin’ to if shots ring out? This ain’t Charlie’s Angels!’” I laughed at the memory and remembered Doug’s witty sarcasm.

Olivia laughed as well. Then her face turned solemn. “Too bad he had to go out like that.”

TWENTY-ONE

moving on

Olivia

I handled my money smartly and bought Lamin’s Brooklyn
brownstone. Although I spent a lot of time at Zion’s place, I wanted ownership. I took pride in my first home and redecorated it from top to bottom. Lamin and Dream had the loveliest home in Scotch Plains, and they seemed happy. I threw myself into making each floor of the brownstone come to life. I could have rented it out, but I had ideas about this home. I was so happy to be doing what I loved and what came naturally. I dreamed of making my own millions for the first time in my life. I didn’t need anybody to give it to me. Granted, I was dating Zion, and he had plenty of money. Yes, my brother was the CEO of a major corporation. But I was making my own money. Doing freelance stylist assignments and making a name for myself. I was on the rise and so was my brother.

I wanted to fill that brownstone with babies for Zion. He was so deep in them streets that not even I could dig him out. He wouldn’t walk away. Wouldn’t let the streets go no matter what. And I feared for him. I loved him and wanted to save him. I wanted to love him enough for all the love he never experienced. But he wouldn’t let me. And I wouldn’t give up. But I did back down a little. He needed to walk away when he was ready. I began to do a lot of thinking and I wanted to heal all my past wounds. I started by going to visit my mother.

I stopped by one afternoon when my schedule was free. She sat in the kitchen with me, asking about the family. She had lost touch with
everybody. She didn’t speak to her parents, her son … her only ties to the family were through me and Uncle Eli. But Mommy didn’t look too good. She looked stressed and overwhelmed. Wally was upstairs sick, and I was happy not to have his grumpy ass around for once. I talked to my mother about Lamin’s wedding and I told her details about my job with Lamin’s company. Before I left, I gave her five hundred dollars and told her to tell me if she needed anything. She looked so sad to see me go, but I promised to come back as soon as I could. I needed to tell Lamin about my concerns. But he would never talk about Mommy. He would not make the first move to reconcile with her and nothing I said would change his mind. But now, seeing her drift away like she was, I decided to try to get him to go and see her.

I went to work each day and worked my magic. I styled the artists and wore my designer labels with shoes that cost as much as some people’s car notes. I was feeling good and so happy to be with Zion, living the good life. So when I took that home pregnancy test, and it came back positive, I was ecstatic. And I felt that my life was the closest to perfection it would ever get.

Lucky

I picked up my pride and went on with my life after Lamin. I started working as a marketing director for
SoulSista Magazine.
I was piecing together my social life, and living it up with Veronica and Audrey. One night, Veronica invited me to an album release party at her restaurant, the Autumn Lounge, featuring some rap group from Queens. I decided to go. Why not? I wore a brown minidress with my cocoa-colored Chanel pumps. I had my hair pulled up into a chignon and I was feeling sexy as hell. When I arrived, I got a drink, and Veronica insisted on introducing me to the members of the group. They were called Havoc, and I was familiar with some of their music. One of them was a guy named Jalil. He was attractive—tall with a stocky, muscular build. He had a neat fade, a mean scowl, and the juiciest lips in the world. He was brown skinned, with that swagger that only New York City niggas
possess. And he was good. I had heard his verse on their number-one record and I was impressed.

Everybody’s energy was up and the dancers strutted around on the dance floor. I had my legs crossed, sitting at a corner table with the group—the shit was hot. But Jalil kept smiling at me when I looked in his direction. He would catch my eye, and I couldn’t help smiling back. I liked what I saw. But I was nervous. This was my first time at an industry function without Lamin. I was used to working the room on someone’s arm. Now, I was flying solo and I had to get used to that. I busied myself by talking to Veronica and Audrey. I watched Jalil out of the corner of my eye.

At around midnight, he approached me just as I was ordering my last drink. “Hello, Miss Laila Matheson, it’s nice to meet you.”

I smiled. This playa had remembered my first and last name after several hours of drinking, mingling, and partying. Nice touch. I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr … .” I pretended to forget his name. I didn’t want him to think I was sweating him.

He laughed. “My name is Jalil. I heard your friend say that you work for
SoulSista Magazine.
What’s a lovely lady like yourself doing
behind
the scenes?”

“Well, thanks for the compliment. I don’t dance or sing or rap, so behind the scenes is where I belong.” I continued to sip my drink.

“Nah. As gorgeous as you are, you should be modeling or something.”

I smiled and got ready to walk away. To my dismay, he followed me. “I’m for real,” he said. “I’m gonna have you in my next video.”

I was so offended that I laughed at him. “I don’t do videos, sweetie. I’m Lucky Matheson. I’m a
businesswoman
at the helm of a very high-profile publication. Videos are not my area of expertise.”

Jalil rubbed his head, realizing I was offended. “Nah, I wasn’t trying to say …”

“Good night, Jalil. It was nice to meet you.”

I strutted across the club to where Veronica stood talking to Audrey. I finished my drink while chatting with the two of them and
then made my exit. I had an evening planned that included a hot bubble bath, the
Waiting to Exhale
CD, and a bottle of wine. I had no time for niggas who wanted me to be their next video ho.

The next day, which happened to be a Friday, I arrived at work, wearing Prada boots with a matching bag. I had put on my Prada blouse, skintight jeans, and wore a slick ponytail that had had heads turning from the moment I stepped outside. I loved casual Fridays. I felt as good as I looked, and I felt even better when I got to my desk. I noticed a huge vase of sunflowers (these are my favorite) with a note attached that said simply, SORRY.

Immediately, I wondered if they were from Lamin. I opened the note as I sat behind my desk.

I want to apologize if I offended you. I wasn’t trying to say that you look like a video chick. I meant to tell you that you are very beautiful, and you should be seen. Behind the scenes is not where you belong. You belong on the front page. You belong in the spotlight.

Let me take you out and treat you like the star you are.

Jalil

1-917-555-1974

I immediately called Veronica. She answered her cell, whispering into the telephone. “Lucky, what’s up? I was just on my way into a meeting with a couple of investors. I told you last night about how I was trying to make the Autumn Lounge a chain.”

“That’s gonna have to wait,” I said. “Did you give Jalil my damn job address? How did he manage to send me flowers on the morning after we met?”

Veronica sighed. “Lucky, he’s a nice guy I wouldn’t have given him your number if I thought he was gonna be another Lamin.”

“See, I don’t need you to be thinking for me. Let me decide if I wanna give a nigga my info, Veronica!”

“If I leave it up to you, you’ll be sitting around nursing a broken heart forever. You’re not giving anybody else a chance. Just talk to the guy. He was enough of a man to send you flowers, wasn’t he?”

I didn’t respond right away. Finally, I asked, “Why did you tell him that I love sunflowers?”

“Because he asked me. He asked me what your favorite restaurant is. He asked me what your favorite color was. He talked about you so much that I teased him about it. He likes you, Lucky. Just stop being scared and call him.” I let Veronica go to her meeting, and I sat looking at the flowers. I put the note in my purse and smiled while I drank my coffee. Eventually, I got to work and tried not to be flattered by Jalil’s tactics.

By the end of the day, I was drained and anxious to leave my office. I decided to leave an hour early, and I told my secretary to let all callers know that I was shortening my workday. I tied up some loose ends and headed for the elevator. I had an appointment at the spa. But when I reached my car, I saw someone out of my peripheral view, running toward me. It was Jalil!

He got close and stopped running. “Why you leavin’ so soon?” he asked.

What, was he stalking me? I immediately thought of Olivia’s ordeal with Donovan. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I have an appointment.”

“Did you get the flowers and my note?”

I could tell Jalil wasn’t used to women turning him down. I nodded. “Yes. Apology accepted. Have a good …”

“So can I expect a phone call, then?” He smiled and he was irresistible.

“I will try—”

He shook his head. “Not good enough. What, does my breath stink or somethin’?”

I laughed. “No, your breath does not stink. I’m just happily single right now—”

“You can be ‘happily single’ all you want, but everybody needs a friend sometimes. Let me just take you out as a friend and get to know you. No more, no less.”

I hesitated. But he was too cute to resist. So I reached into my Prada bag and handed him my card. “Call me when you’re ready for a
friendly
lunch.”

I got in my car and drove off with Jalil smiling in my rearview He called the same night, and I let him talk me into lunch the next day. We hit it off and kept it friendly. We met for lunch whenever he was in town after that. Nothing sexual. Not even a good-night kiss was exchanged. Just friends. And I liked it like that.

Jalil didn’t rush me. He was a gentleman and I began to let my guard down little by little. He was rough and rugged—he lived the typical hard-knock life most rappers do. But he was genuine, and he was smart. We talked about everything—politics, religion, current events—you name it! I was surprised by how broad his knowledge was. Before long, I began to let myself go. I was having fun with Jalil and enjoying his company more and more.

When I finally made love to Jalil, it was perfect harmony. His words were sweet and affectionate, and I realized what I had been missing since I left Lamin. Intimacy. And I began to relax. I began to let myself fall for Jalil, and it felt so good.

A part of me would always love Lamin. But I was tired of loving someone when that love was unreciprocated. Jalil’s love was unquestioned. He didn’t cheat on me, he paid attention to me, and I was happy. That was enough for me.

Lamin

I knew about what was going on with Zion in the streets. I had warned him to keep his head and stay out of trouble. I was upset about Doug’s death as well. Doug had made me and Zion a lot of
money over the years. Plus he was a likable guy and didn’t deserve to die the way he did. But Zion saw things differently. He felt that Doug was a snitch that had to be dealt with. I had learned not to question Zion’s instincts about shit like that. And sure enough, Zion was right. Doug turned out to be a rat.

The headlines in all the local papers read:

DRUG INFORMANT MURDERED/POLICE SUSPECT WITNESS TAMPERING

I constantly reminded Zion that he needed to keep a low profile. But Zion was hardheaded and nothin’ I said sunk in. I had more and more work coming in at Shootin’ Crooks, and I spent a lot of time handling assignments. I didn’t have time to baby-sit Zion to make sure that he stayed out of trouble. But I made it a priority to keep him on the right path once I found out that my baby sister was pregnant with his child. That shit was so crazy! I couldn’t believe that my little sister was becoming a mother—that my boy Zion was becoming a father. I was happy for them. But I was also worried about him because he was hot right then. I wanted my sister to be safe and happy. If that meant making sure that Zion stayed out of trouble, so be it.

Dream occupied her time decorating the home that should have been Lucky’s, and that seemed to keep her happy. The marriage worked because Dream gave me my space. She didn’t worry about where I was going, and she did whatever I asked her to. We never had an argument. It was peaceful and it worked. Deep down, I knew I didn’t love her like I loved Lucky. But it would do. I was content.

Papa started feeling sick. Grandma took him to the hospital a couple of times, but I was so busy, I hardly found the time to go and check on him. He was suffering from high blood pressure and diabetes but Papa was stubborn. He kept eating greasy foods, kept drinking and smoking. Wouldn’t take all that medication. “I can’t drink when I take that shit!” he always complained. Grandma called me to
intervene. I went by to see him when I went to Staten Island.

“Wassup, Papa?” He was laying in his bed watching
The People’s Court.

“I’m alright. Just tired, ya know?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know. You’re doin’ the right thing, though. Layin’ down and restin’.”

I sat beside him on the bed. I noticed the half pint of bourbon at his bedside. “What time you gotta take your medicine?”

He rolled his eyes. “I know she called you over here to talk about takin’ that shit. I feel fine. I’m just tired sometimes. What’s the problem? A man can’t get tired sometimes? Can’t I lay up for once? I been workin’ since I was a goddamn toddler. Can I sit on my ass for once? Damn! Who says you gotta take medicine just ‘cause your body’s tired? Them doctors wanna keep you doped up on that shit so they can keep playin’ golf in the springtime.”

I smiled. Papa was so stubborn and proud. Just like me. “Take the medicine just to keep her mouth shut, then. Remember how you told me I was blessed to have Lucky naggin’ me all the time. Now it’s your turn. Practice what you preach, old man.”

Papa laughed. “I got your old man!” He threw his fists up in the air in a boxer’s stance, and I pretended to duck. “And, speaking of Lucky, I think about her every now and then. I miss her tryin’ to cook all the time.”

I smiled at the memory of my first love. “Yeah, she tried to be like you in the kitchen, but it wasn’t as good. I appreciated it, though.” I got lost in thought momentarily.

Papa said, “She’s the one that got away, Lamin. Every man loves the one that got away. The one that we wish we never let go.”

I nodded. That was a perfect description of Lucky. The one that got away. I wondered who got away from Papa’s smooth ass.

“I ain’t had your peach cobbler in a while. Can I get some when you feel better?”

Papa laughed, though his laugh was weak. “I think I could make
you one if you set me up on a blind date with one of them groupies from the videos.”

I laughed. “Papa! Let Grandma hear you, and she’ll set it off up in here.”

He smiled. “That’s why I’m whisperin’.”

I hung out with Papa for a while longer, got him to take his medicine. He promised to take it just to shut Grandma’s mouth. I chilled with him, let him beat me at chess, and watched his favorite shows with him. We talked about Olivia’s motherhood, and Papa was so excited that he would live to be a great-grandfather. Four generations of his family alive at once. He was thrilled. And then I got paged on my beeper. I called back the number and it was Olivia, begging me to come and meet her at my mother’s house. I didn’t want to see her but Olivia sounded desperate. I cut short my visit with Papa and drove over to my mother’s house.

I rang the bell and wondered what the hell was goin’ on.

Olivia came to the door with a tear-stained face. Immediately, I wondered what would make her tough ass cry. “What’s wrong witchu?” I asked her as I stepped inside. The house was quiet and a whole lot neater than the last time I was there. It almost looked like nobody lived there. Not a thing was out of place. Olivia walked toward the kitchen and I followed her. When we walked in I saw my moms sittin’ by the window lookin’ like she had just been cryin’, too. I started to wonder why Olivia had called me there.

“What’s goin’ on?” I waited for one of them to answer me.

“Sit down, Lamin.” My moms’ voice cracked.

I sat beside her at the table and looked at Olivia for some kind of clue about what was goin’ on. She wouldn’t look me in the eye and I turned to my mother, waitin’ for the bomb to drop. My mother turned and stared out the window, then turned back to me. You could hear a pin drop.

“Wally died. He died in the hospital last night and I called Olivia over here today to talk to her about it.” I frowned. I hoped my
mother knew better than to ask me for money to bury Wally’s evil ass. I knew that funerals could be costly, but I sure wasn’t chippin’ in for that nigga’s expenses.

“Lamin …” My mother’s voice trailed off. She wiped a tear quickly from her eye and looked into mine. “Lamin, I have AIDS.”

My heart stopped. It just stopped, and it seemed like all the oxygen in the room had been suddenly sucked out. I began to sweat and felt for a second like I would faint. Olivia reached for my hand and held it, tellin’ me that it was alright. But it wasn’t alright. My mother was dying. I looked at her then, and the person I saw was not my mother. My mother was a vibrant, loud hustler with a jones for the finer things in life. My mother was a designer label wearin’, fresh hairdo, manicure, and pedicure havin’, Virginia Slims smokin’, tall and statuesque woman. She was not the frail, defeated woman who sat beside me now. I hated myself for not seeing the signs. How did I miss her weight loss, her depression, her lack of interest in shopping? How did I miss all that?

I thought back to the day that I came by to see her. I remembered Curtis reminding me to respect her. He kept telling me that she was family and I ignored him. I said some horrible things to my mother that day. Whether she deserved it or not, I felt terrible about it. I wanted to take back every word I said.

I reached over and hugged my mother impulsively. Wrapped my arms around her small, delicate frame and held her close. And she cried. I cried, too. Olivia seemed like she was all cried out, so, instead, she sat with her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. My mother’s tears lessened and I felt the sadness in my heart being edged out by anger.

“Did that muthafucka Wally give you AIDS, ma?” I was livid! I slammed my fist into the table so hard I split my knuckle open. For a fleeting moment—the quickest, fleeting moment—I worried about having a cut in an AIDS-infested house. My mother’s house. This was my mother telling me the tragic news. She was dying; at the age of forty-three! I had never been so angry. My moms sensed my tension
and reached for me. I withdrew from her. I was overcome with rage and recoiled when she reached for me. I was mad at the fact she had AIDS, I was mad at that nigga Wally; mad at myself for not killin’ him when I had the chance; mad at her for never being my parent. I was just mad. And so fuckin’ sad. I just fell apart. And my moms reached for me again. I let her embrace me.

“Lamin, I got AIDS from having unprotected sex with men. I don’t know if Wally gave it to me, or if I gave it to him. That’s part of why we used to fight all the time. But I do know that I can’t keep going without my family around me.” The whole room was thick with emotion for a while. Olivia and I were sad and angry, scared and bitter. And my moms just seemed drenched in self-pity, shame, and depression. I called my Aunt Inez despite my moms beggin’ me not to. I felt like my mother needed her family more than ever. Aunt Inez came over with Curtis, and they were shocked to hear the news. Olivia and I sat in the kitchen with Curtis, while Aunt Inez hugged and cried with her sister upstairs. I looked at my cousin and my sister and just felt helpless. There was no cure for this shit. No amount of money could buy my mother’s life back. It was the saddest day in my life.

Eventually we called Grandma and broke the news to her. She was distraught. She didn’t want to tell Papa since she knew it would upset him and send his blood pressure through the roof. Grandma said she would come over the next day. I knew she would spend the whole night prayin’, and I couldn’t help but wonder if God was listenin’ anymore.

I spent the night at my mother’s house. We all did. None of us got much sleep. But we were there with her, and that’s what mattered. I felt bad for Olivia and Zion, since the joy of Olivia’s pregnancy was instantly overshadowed by the news of my mother’s illness. I called Dream and explained the situation. She wanted to drive to Staten Island to be with me. But I told her not to.

I needed to be alone with my family. In the morning, I made some calls and hired a nurse for my moms and went home wondering if I should move her closer to me or to Olivia. She didn’t have long to
live. I wanted to make amends with her before she died, but we had a long road ahead of us.

Days passed and soon weeks and I felt like I had a cloud over me 24/7. Dream tried the best way she could to help me feel better, but I just couldn’t bring myself to smile. I felt like she was naggin’ me to talk to her. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Lamin.” She got on my nerves. I just ain’t feel like talkin’. Zion was helpful during that time, just by being the same friend he’d always been. He didn’t bring up the situation unless I did. I appreciated that. It got to the point that I worked harder just to escape the need for conversation. Then the unthinkable happened.

I got a call while I was on the set in Queens. Papa was in the hospital, and Grandma wanted us all to come there at once. Me and Olivia sped back to Staten Island and arrived at the hospital in half an hour. We found Curtis, Aunt Inez, and Grandma in the hallway. “Your mother and Uncle Eli are in with him,” Grandma explained.

“What happened?” I was worried. I never expected Papa to be admitted to the hospital. He seemed to be feeling better the last time I saw him.

“He had a stroke, baby. The whole left side is paralyzed, and he’s weak. The doctor said he’s in bad shape, so I thought you should come see him.” Grandma was holding it together, but I could see the tears in her eyes. They had been together for over thirty years. They were friends
and
spouses. I knew her heart was breaking. I hugged her, and Curtis comforted his moms. Aunt Inez looked like she’d been crying.

I saw my mother and Uncle Eli come out, so I decided to go in to see Papa. I walked in and he looked like he was so tired. “What’s wrong, old man? You ain’t tryin’ to leave me so soon are you?” I was trying not to cry seein’ him all frail like that.

“I ain’t … sure I got a … choice no more, Lamin.” Papa sounded defeated. “I’m … tired, son.” I said nothing. The room was quiet as I sat beside his bed. “I want you to … know that I’m … proud of you, Lamin.” Papa sounded funny with only one side of his mouth moving.
“I’m … proud of what you … did with yourself. Your mother … loves you, too. She got a fucked-up … way of showin’ it. But she loves you. You gotta … forgive her … and you gotta forgive … yourself.”

I wondered if the medication had Papa talkin’ crazy. I didn’t think I had anything to forgive myself for. “I understand, Papa …”

“Make sure you … look out for her. Look out … for Olivia and your … Aunt Inez. Curtis, too. He needs you to … show him an … example.”

“I will, Papa. You just worry about getting better so you can come on home and let Grandma spoil you.”

Papa grinned again. “Your Grandma is a … good woman. She’s the only woman I ever … really loved. Tell her it’s alright, Lamin.”

I nodded. “She’s strong. I’ll make sure Grandma is alright. Just get better.”

Olivia came in, walked over to the bed, and kissed Papa’s forehead. She talked to him and told him how much she loved him. I wondered then if I had ever told Papa that I loved him. I was feelin’ sadness about my moms and fear for Papa’s well-being. Before long, I was overwhelmed and I decided to go home.

“Papa, I’ll be here early in the morning to see you. Right after breakfast, I’ll be here, okay?” Papa nodded. “I love you, Papa.”

He smiled. “I love you, too, Lamin. Be good … and take care.”

BOOK: Criminal Minded

2.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads