(4/11) “There was a two year stretch where we didn’t even see...

(4/11) “There was a two year stretch where we didn’t even see our mom. Of course it hurt. But we just kept on livin’. There was always something to look forward to: when’s the next Knicks game, when’s the draft, when’s free agency. For G it was when’s the next dinner. For me too, actually. If there’s three things I love in life, it’s: ‘Italian Food, The Knicks, and my little sister. G came with me everywhere. My barber told me she was the only girl who always came in for a cut. Every single time. It’d be a bunch of guys arguing about sports and hip hop, and there’s G. But nobody ever questioned it. That’s just how it was. I brought her to her first Knicks game when she was four. I can’t say it was love at first sight. G was more into the hotdogs than anything. But she loved watching me cheer. She loved seeing me happy. I wanted her to be a bball player so bad, I will say that. I’d get her into these camps. Got her some Jordans. Dope Nikes. She liked to pass. She’d pass me the ball. But she did not like to play. That’s the funniest thing about me and G, we had almost nothing in common. G was a grandmother. She knitted. She loved drag queens and Harry Potter. It was mainly hip hop for me, but G listened to 70’s and 80’s music. Her favorite was Cindi Lauper. We had none of the same interests. But it didn’t matter. We were peanut butter and jelly. Ant and G. G and Ant. No mom, no dad, but even with all this madness around us, we just kept livin’. One night when G was ten years old, I heard her throwing up in the bathroom. At first I wasn’t too concerned. Because we ate a ton of pizza and pasta, and I’m thinking it’s the pizza and pasta. But it just wouldn’t stop. For days and days she keeps throwing up. Eventually I brought her to the emergency room, and the doctors think it’s dehydration. Which made sense, because it’s summer. But it just kept happening. They ran all kinds of tests. Everything’s coming back negative: negative, negative, negative. Finally they’re like: ‘we need to test her brain.’ It made no sense to me. Because Dr. Anthony is still thinking it’s the pizza and pasta. But what the fuck do I know? So I’m like: ‘Sure, whatever, do the brain test.’”