𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈 - 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞/𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞

Now I was mad. I may not have prayed every second I got, but I'd done more than enough to keep this family afloat, whether my mother liked to hear it or not. "Praying all day has gotten us what? It took you James to finally get up and cook a meal for your kids. For the first time in years," I shouted, not caring for my tone anymore.

"And what do you even mean by 'James or no James'? You think your little deacon is gonna walk up in here and marry you and discipline Jalen? Cuz I know he better not. He so much as touches Jalen and I'll call Michael on his ass. Watch me."

Taken aback at my language, my tone, and maybe even my threat, my mom flung the plate she was drying in her hands at me. I ducked and heard it crash somewhere behind me before I got back up.

"I'm not cleanin--," I started before she threw another one. And another one. I didn't bother counting how many plates she was breaking as I headed to my room and picked up random items of clothing, stuffing them into my luggage.

"Yeah, you betta pack yo' shit," she stormed, behind me. "Forgive me Jesus, but I know you see this girl testing me. Gon' head out my house."

"House? Yours?," I scoffed, grabbing my coat and phone. "It's a 3 bedroom apartment I pay rent for, but ok."

I dialed Ray, but the line was busy. I thought of calling Gigi, but I needed to call someone I knew would let me stay at their place, so I called Michael instead.

It rang twice before he picked up. "Yo, I was just about to call you. What's up, girl?"

"I need you to come and get me," I sighed, giving him the straightest answer possible.

I could see him wondering what happened, but given the urgency in my voice, he answered, "Imma be there in 10."

"Thank you," I mumbled on the verge of tears.

"Hey, hey," he assuaged me. "You good?"

"I'll be good when you get here," I answered and hung up, looking my mother in the eye as I grabbed my suitcase, coat, and phone, before walking past her to the door to go wait for Michael downstairs.

Sure enough, he was there in 10 minutes, taking my stuff to his trunk while I stormed my way to shotgun, breaking down inside the car.

"Um, you want some Kleenex?," he asked me, getting in and starting the car.

I nodded, sniffing the snot in my nose a little. He lifted the tunnel console and pulled out a sheet from a pack with one hand, keeping his other hand on the wheel as he took quick glances at the road and my face. He wiped my tears away before handing me the tissue to blow my nose, before going back to giving his attention to the road.

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

I shook my head no.

"Aight. Later, then."

***

We stopped in front of a condo facing Central Park North's entrance. He didn't live so far away from me, but definitely in better conditions. We took an elevator up to the 18th floor, the very top. He took my coat and bags when we got inside, telling me to take my shoes off.

When we stepped inside, my eyes swept the living room with its low, oval coffee table in front of a minimalist style couch, and circle lamps with white, plastic, shades hanging from the ceiling. All this set on top of a black rug that looked like a huge, square piece of fluffy fur.

Then my eyes kept moving through the kitchen with its black appliances. It had a strict black theme with black marble countertops, shiny black cupboards and even black tiles on the floor. I loved black as much as the next person, but the lack of color was really irking me.