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“You can always come home,” she whispered.
“You can always come home,” she whispered.
Ethic ain’t no baby killer, La La. If he says it was an accident, you can take that to the bank.
She would rather deal with the devils she knew than the ones she had yet to discover.
This was the first time she had felt relief all week from the agony of him walking away.
It was like when he would be forced to pour PET milk in
his cereal in the mornings as a child because they had run out of the real thing. It would do but it wasn’t the same.
When he saw her name on his lock screen his heart skipped a beat. Even that natural reaction bothered him.
“We still breaking out?” Isa asked. “You know we not leaving now. This ol’ drunk in love mu’fucka,” Ahmeek cracked.
She stalked to the backdoor, leaving footprints in the snow and on his heart...he was glad she could only see one set.
She was like the proud owner of a prized Pit Bull who gloated at its aggression, it’s loyalty, it’s instinct to protect. Messiah was her Pit. When she yanked his chain, he barked; when she let him off his leash, he bit.
“You must think I’m one of them bum-ass college dudes you used to. I can handle the bill, Ali,” he chuckled. “I don’t eat no bullshit, though.”
“The girl who calls to tell me about everything else about her day, and I mean everything, Mo…you call me to tell me how heavy your period flowing…got me running up and down the highway to bring you stick ups and shit.” “Tampons, nigga?” Morgan corrected, in irritation. “What the fuck ever.
Got me out here caking with your spoiled-ass,” Messiah spat back. “You call to tell me how the bitch at McDonald’s forgot to put your Big Mac sauce on them nasty-ass burgers you be fucking with…how the little chicks at the Asian shop don’t scrub the bottom of your feet hard enough and be talking in Chinese and shit about your crusty-ass toes!”
“Vietnamese, racist-ass, and my toes ain’t crusty when they in your mouth!” sh...
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Morgan had never heard him sound so boyish. Before her stood Messiah Williams, not the next likely king, not the goon, not the shooter, just a man who wanted to be good enough for a woman.
“It’s not living if you’re not there. It’s enduring,” she whispered.
The disdain in her stare shattered him. “I could never let a piece of you grow inside me. I went to the doctor and got rid of it. I sucked the life right out of me. I could never betray my daughter and raise a child with you. You killed my baby, so I killed yours.
This was the man who had killed her family.
Killing Ethic was like killing herself.
“So, can I go?” she asked. “Yeah, B, you can go. Take care of my girl,” Ethic said. “Of course,” Alani answered, weakly. “I was talking to Bella,” Ethic shot back and then he was gone.
“Lord of the Flies,” Bella read, taking the book from Alani’s hand. Alani held up a finger as, she moved to the next shelf. She located another one. “The Coldest Winter Ever,” Bella whispered, taking the book before following Alani to one more aisle. “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings?” Alani started her off with an assortment of genres - all classics. You could never go wrong with the classics.
Vernors was her childhood remedy for everything. Nannie had given her the bubbly soda every time she complained of a cold or a stomach ache and like magic it worked. This time was no different.
“What about me?” Eazy said. “I want to go to Ms. Alani’s. Why does she get to go all the time?” Shit, Ethic felt that. He wanted to go too. “It’s a girl thing, big man.
It was Christmas. She didn’t want to feel grief. She just wanted one day to unwrap presents and enjoy a meal with this lovely-spirited girl who had come into her life. She just wanted to be ‘merry,’ damn it.
“I know it’s your first Christmas without your daughter, but it’s my first Christmas to know what it feels like to have a mom,” Bella said.
