by Nako
No one said anything. It had been seven months since everyone’s lives changed.
Seven months since Carmen returned to New York.
Seven months since Neezy was released from prison.
Seven months since Mahogany slowed things down and focused on home more.
A few months since Teka flew back to New York to be with her husband whose health hadn’t changed not one bit.
Seven months since Jordyn started therapy.
Seven months since Demi told her kids she had to start living and that didn’t include them because they were grown with kids of their own.
Six months since Porter stepped in as Neezy’s manager and oh, the highs he’d experienced in such a short amount of time.
Time had passed, and Carmen still hadn’t found the courage to visit her mother or pull the plug on her brother.
She found herself driving past her former in-law’s house hoping to get a glimpse of Kniko.
Time waited for no one.
Nia looked over at her husband who she hadn’t felt so connected too lately which saddened her because she’d changed.
She cut back on her being so busy. She’d done the work.
She was actively pursuing a happier life which included him, and he was mentally floating through the house.
Mind somewhere else.
She sighed, agreeing with Mahogany. This trip was much needed and hopefully could serve as a refresher for her marriage.
Juice and Tia made it on the plane, barely…they were the last to arrive and she barely spoke to anyone although everyone was pleased to see them.
Truth be told, they all were individually dealing with all kinds of shit.
“I’m here for it,” Carmen was the only person that responded. On top of trying to figure out what angle should she use to repair the broken relationship with her son. Neezy told her that he needed her too. He didn’t like the stylist that Juice’s team were wanting to use for the promotional pictures and tour. Her vibe was off, and she was too pushy. He only wanted his girl to dress him. However, Carmen was just one person and she was in the middle of re-launching The Showroom. She didn’t have time to do both. There were some stylists that only worked with one artist at a time. Neezy’s schedule was only getting busier. If he wasn’t at the studio, he was handling business. Instead of giving him a fast, no, she told him she was going to seriously consider the position as his wardrobe stylist.
The plane ascended into the air and so did the hearts and minds of all the passengers.
72 Hours Before Trip…
η
Seeing her baby in that freakin’…thing. That cage…because that’s exactly what it looked like to her. Seeing him in that cage depressed her and she wished that she could die. She wanted them both to get the hell out of here.
Her spirit was incredibly heavy, so hefty that she couldn’t find the strength to pray.
Her children were screaming at the top of their lungs and all she could think about was her baby in that damn cage.
“Is he in pain? When you do that…can he feel it?” she inquired.
The nurse saw the look in Tia’s eyes. It was so familiar.
Every parent and caregiver had that look.
Waiting and praying at the same time.
Waiting on this to end and praying that their baby would make it home.
Tia questioned her often. However, her mind was all over the place. She didn’t remember the nurse’s names or faces.
“No, he doesn’t.”
She gave her a hopeful smile.
Juice was sitting right next to her, but his mind was elsewhere.
Neezy had a performance on Tidal today.
It was streaming live from Miami.
He’d finally cut the hair, trimmed the beard and did everything that was asked of him.
He looked so freakin’ good.
Juice was proud.
He was bobbing his head, jamming to the set that P most likely had put together for him.
Tia snatched his air pod out and said, “TALK TO HIM!”
She wanted to desperately believe that if Juice was actively engaged with their son then maybe he would heal.
Maybe, he would be okay.
Maybe…just maybe he would come home.
Tia had to believe in something right now.
She needed to see a pot of gold at the end of this shit.
Juice eyed her with anger in his eyes.
She scratched the fuck out of his ear when she pulled his air pod out.
In fact, she threw it somewhere in the room and he wouldn’t dare scrounge around in search of them.
“Sick of those fuckin air pods.” She grimaced before storming off.
They were back home, and he had the nerve to ask her, “Would you be mad if I fly out to Miami?”
She didn’t say anything, so he explained himself, “It’s his first show. We been working on this project for seven months, well they have, and I been here… I think it’s important that I show up and let him know that I support him.”
He continued while knowing that good and damn well when a black woman is quiet it was the best that you do the same.
“Tia, you know I have to eventually go back to work… I mean, baby it’s been seven months.”
The nigga was counting.
She wanted to laugh but instead she balled up her fist, ready to swing on his football head ass.
She backed up, shaking her head, trying to convince herself that he didn’t just remind her of the time.
The date.
The days.
The month.
Like, he’d been cooped in the house by his damn self.
Like, she didn’t push her baby out.
Like, she didn’t carry him in her womb until his arrival.
She was the mother.
The sole responsibility was on her.
She was the one that felt like she’d failed.
She was the one that questioned herself and God. Not him.
He had a lot of nerve.
Tia finally exhaled. Without second thought, she releases two God-awful words that she’d been holding onto for months.
Seven months.
Since he’d been counting. Counting down the days that their lives went on pause.
Counting down the days since he put his company on hold.
Counting down the days that he’d been having to deal with her emotions, her mood swings, her nightmares, her tears, her breakdowns.
He’d been waiting on the not so perfect moment for him to bring this up.
In her mind, it was the right time.
The opportunity had been granted for her to tell her precious yet so very selfish husband, “FUCK YOU!”
Juice was incredibly taken back by her statement.
Her confession more so.
He pointed to his bird chest.
It’d been seven months since he’d seen his trainer.
Due to stress, he had lost a lot weight and muscle and didn’t really look the same.
Tia neither.
“It’s fuck me?”
He only asked her to be sure.
She ignored him and walked off.
“Tia, is it fuck me?”
He didn’t have the balls to add, “It’s fuck the only person that’s been in here holding this shit down and together at the same damn time?
Juice blew out a breath of frustration, “Yo, if it’s fuck me then it’s definitely fuck you back.”
He didn’t talk to her out the side of his neck.
She was his wife.
He loved her greatly.
He honored, appreciated and adored her.
But “fuck you” was the ultimate sign of disrespect.
Tia was so darn numb that she didn’t even react.
As she ambled away from him, she stopped to grab a fresh bottle of gin before closing the door behind her. Leaving her husband in a pool of his own tears and misery.
While they
were going their separate ways after spending a rather emotional day at the hospital with their premature sickly baby, Carmen was parking her vehicle to sign a paper stating that she was giving the hospital permission to pull a plug.
A plug that had been keeping her brother alive for quite some time.
Not only, was she doing this today.
But she’d also filed for custody of her son.
Deciding that she had to take matters into her own hand.
She couldn’t and wouldn’t let her son forget her.
She’d done nothing wrong and it was time that he knew the truth.
Her truth.
There were always two sides to every story.
Motherhood was a gift. It was a blessing and she didn’t take it for granted. It was important that Kniko at least gave her a chance.
Carmen didn’t feel comfortable with her life being as good as it was right now, and two things weren’t.
Her brother and her son.
As bad as she wanted to be in Miami rooting her baby on, he knew that she had important matters to handle.
She dropped him off at the airport, bid him farewell and came straight to the hospital.
She would be doing this alone or at least that’s what she thought.
When she walked through the lobby before getting onto the elevator. Someone called her name.
It was Missy.
Carmen was so relieved. When P told her that he wouldn’t be able to make it, she automatically assumed this was going to be something she didn’t have the courage to do alone.
But God.
He never failed her.
He never sent her in a fire without armor.
Carmen rushed into Missy’s arms, something she’d never in her life done before.
“Thank you,” she was grateful.
When Missy didn’t respond to her text, she chalked it up to her turning her back but should’ve known better.
Casey was the best part of her.
He was her only child.
Missy was stylish as always, but a blind man could see the pain in her eyes as she faintly smiled and hugged Carmen back.
“It’s going to be okay,” she attempted to encourage her when she too needed a crying shoulder.
Carmen could smell the alcohol on her breath and ignored it.
Generational curses were a thing.
They were real.
Last Sunday, Apostle preached about generational curses being transformed into generational blessings and Carmen bout’ tore that church up.
She refused to carry those curses over onto her family. The devil was a lie!
Casey was on life support because his parents were both alcoholics.
Research showed that it could be hereditary.
He’d drank himself into a stupor on many nights and it lead to the failing of his body organs.
They walked hand in hand onto the elevator and rode in silence to the eighth floor.
The doctor and his staff were waiting on the Kincaid’s.
Their father’s attorney and a few other people who she didn’t expect to see were also there waiting.
Women as well.
She looked at Missy for understanding and she patted her hand, “Your brother was loved. They’re here to uplift us, sweetheart.”
Carmen wasn’t expecting this, but she was beyond thankful.
They hugged everyone, thanking them for showing up.
It was a touching experience and one that Carmen wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared for, but she made it through.
Neezy texted her and told her that he loved it there.
He wished he was with her and she wanted…no, needed him. However, business was business and she respected that.
She recited scriptures in her head the entire time the doctor explained the process to them.
Her brother was going to heaven.
She was claiming it in advance.
As they began to remove the cords and bandages, reality hit Missy which strengthened Carmen immediately.
She couldn’t do the most right now. A mother was literally losing her son.
Missy broke.
The stubbornness, the pride…none of it mattered anymore.
“No, baby no,” Missy tried to pull him from the bed.
Her vision was so blurry from her tears that she could barely see as she tried to refrain Missy from stopping the doctor doing what he had to do.
She lost it and began to flip buttons on the machines.
“Cut it back on, cut it back on. Save my baby. What do I have to do?”
She questioned loudly.
Casey’s roommate from college stepped out. He couldn’t take it. He was already tripping out and was mad that no one had informed him of Casey’s health.
He would’ve been here sooner.
The Kincaid family had always been extremely private.
With that thought on her mind, she wondered who mourned for her mother other than she? Carmen’s mom, Sheila was a true introvert. She couldn’t help but to worry if her mom died feeling unloved. Overlooked. Unappreciated.
Missy’s wailing brought her troubled mind from the past and back on to the present tragedy.
“Carmen, I will give him my liver. What does he need? He can have it!” she flung herself into her arms.
Carmen sobbed.
“He gotta go,” she told Missy.
Telling herself as well, that it was best.
Four hours later, her sweet brother took his final breath. She closed her eyes and exhaled right along with him. She couldn’t take another devastating loss.
Her face was dry and itchy from crying so much.
Missy exhaled, “I’m going to Paris for a few months, it’s nothing here for me no more. From there I’ll probably go to Africa.” She was rambling.
“The house sold. I will give you the address to the storage where your mother’s things are,” she remembered.
Carmen definitely didn’t have the strength to handle that.
No time soon.
“Take care of yourself, little girl,” she said, reminding her of her father in that moment.
He never looked at Carmen as an adult.
Hell, Casey either.
“Missy…”
Carmen stooped her mid-stride.
“You know…I’ve always looked up to you.”
She would’ve never told her this in any other setting.
Missy seemed presently shocked.
She didn’t say anything.
Her shoulders relaxed.
“I got into fashion because of you… you were always so polished. Even on the bad days, I never could tell how you were feeling because you stayed sharp.”
She smiled through her tears.
“It would mean the world to me if you came to the re-launch of my business. I’ll have a spot on the first row just for you.”
She added, “You’re the only family I have left besides my son. I need you.”
Missy nodded her head, “We need each other, sweet pea. Send me the details. I’ll be there.”
She bent down and kissed her forehead before walking away.
Her mother was smiling down at her right now. Carmen knew it.
“I think you can learn a lot from her,” her mom said out of nowhere.
“Who?”
“Missy.”
They were eating ice cream from the bed.
“You want me to like her? Why?”
Carmen couldn’t understand her mother’s thought process for nothing in the world.
“Ma, what if she takes me from you?”
Sheila giggled, “Carmen, how can she do that? I believe that we’re here for a reason. Missy is the complete opposite from me. Let her in.”
Carmen never did it and twenty something years later, she’d regretted it. She regretted a lot when it came to how she interacted with her family.
Life was short and she couldn’t get any of those times back.
> Which is why it was mandatory that she repaired things between she and her son.
48 Hours Before The Trip
While Casey Kincaid’s body was being transferred to the morgue, it felt as if Moses Montez Parks’ heart was about to undergo surgery.
A critical one.
“I poured into you when I was empty…” she whispered to him. Anger overtook her spirit and it was best that she left him.
Moses was emotional as well.
Tears streamed down his face, “You leaving me nigga because I’m fat? What kind of shit is this?”
It was an embarrassment; that’s what it fuckin’ was.
He was hurt and she was too so what was the solution? How did they fix this? Could the issue even be resolved?
“I’m leaving you because you don’t love yourself.”
There it was.
There it go.
She’d finally shared her best-kept secret. Teka was in love with a man that didn’t love himself. She would never be enough, could never be enough. He didn’t care about his health because he didn’t love what he saw in the mirror.
Marvin Gaye once said, “If you cannot find peace within yourself, you will not find it anywhere.”
The same went for love.
If you didn’t love yourself, if you didn’t care about yourself…then how could you care and love another?
Moses neglected himself, a lot.
Too much.
“How don’t I love myself?”
She didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about.
“You don’t and you know you don’t…I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m taking the kids. I’m going to Atlanta; you can visit us whenever. I’ll be up here often-
He charged towards her and she backed into a wall.
She wasn’t scared of him, well, he’d never given her a reason to fear him.
“You gon’ hit me?” she questioned.
Tears filled her eyes again.
“Teka, you’re not taking my children no fuckin’ where. Now, whatever you want me to do I’ll do it but you not leaving. I’ll move out,” he concluded.
Teka didn’t want to be in New York anymore.
She needed to start over.
She desired a new scenery.
“Moses, I’m moving,” her mind was made up.
He had to ask…only because this wasn’t her.