Oxymoron | ScHoolboy Q

Chapter 8

The next day was a Sunday.

Quincey had no plans for the day, and neither did his mother. She usually attend church service down the road, but lately she didn't have the energy to even move. She stayed planted in the same spot which was on the couch. She didn't even sleep in her bed anymore.

She insisted on staying on the couch, and Quincey surprisingly had no problem with it. If he ever needed to rush her somewhere, he knew he would be able to do so in a timely manner. The couch was conveniently located downstairs of course, and directly next to the front door.

However, Quincey prayed he would never have to experience a scare that would require him to rush her out to the hospital. It was still somewhat unreal that she had cancer, so he tried not to think about it too much, and did whatever he could to take his mind off of the matter.

₪

Around 1 o'clock, Quincey received a call from Terrell. He was still laying comfortably in his bed, but necessarily sleep. Just too lazy to actually get up and do anything. Quincey wiped the crust out of his eyes, and cleared his throat before answering his call before it was sent to voicemail.

"Hello?"

"You sleep?" Terrell questioned.

"Nah," Quincey sighed. "Just woke up not too long ago. What's up?"

"Pops making me take Terrence to the court to go hoop. Thought i'd call you and Dono to see if y'all wanted to come."

Terrence was Terrell's little brother who was a freshman at Crenshaw, and someone who Quincey hadn't seen or heard of in a minute. It had also been a while since they all met up at the court.

"Sure," Quincey replied. "Just let me shower and throw some shit on. What time y'all heading up there?"

"In like an hour. We need to get ready too."

"Alright. I'll meet y'all up there in a few."

"Coo."

Quincey then hung up the phone as he tossed it to the side and onto a nearby pillow. He briefly continued to lay back in the comfortable bed before stretching and getting up to get his day started, which he finally had plans for.

After jumping into the shower and brushing his teeth, he threw on a pair of basketball shorts, a wife beater, and an old pair of Jordan's he didn't care too much for anymore. He then grabbed his cell and keys, then proceeded to head downstairs to grab something to eat and talk to his mom.

Like always, she sat curled up in a blanket, staring at the television that was turned to a rerun episode of Family Feud.

"Good morning mama," Quincey greeted, making his way over to her to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Good morning baby," she weakly smiled. "Are you about to leave?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I was gonna go hoop with the boys at the court down the street. If you want to do something we can."

"No, no," she waved him off. "You go have your fun. One of the mothers from the church is suppose to be over later after service anyways. I'll be fine."

"You sure?" Quincey asked, making his way into the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal before heading out.

"Yes," she sighed. "She's suppose to bring me a plate of whatever they're serving upstairs after church, and also keep me company and pray for me."

"Well that's nice," he replied, grabbing the box of Golden Grams, his favorite, from off the top of the refrigerator

"It is," she smiled. "I hope whatever they serve today at church is something good."