For the Streets

C.)

Age 18, three months after:

"Happy birthday, bitch!"

I jolted upright, immediately alert despite being sound asleep just a second prior. Taking in my surroundings, I noticed I was in my best friend Tyra's bed. She stood over me, fully dressed, with a big smile on her face. In one hand, she held a full shot glass and in the other a pink blunt and lighter.

"Ugh. If I drink anything else, I'm gonna need my stomach pumped."

The night before was Saturday, and Tyra had thrown me a small surprise party to bring in my 18th birthday. There'd been a lot of alcohol, of which I felt I'd reached my quota on ingesting. It was honestly a really fun time. I was surprised but secretly elated at the amount of people that had shown up. The past three months had been difficult, after what happened with my family was made public. I'd only talked about it with Tyra/her mom, as well as my boyfriend, Terrence, so a lot of people found a narrative and ran with it. Tyra and her parents defended my mom and I as best they could, but once a rumor starts it's practically impossible to change. After a while, things began to die down, but it's hard to forget the things your "friends" say about you.

"Oh girl, one shot ain't gon' kill you!" Tyra protested. "You'll love it. Plus, I just cooked. You'll be fine."

Despite the way my stomach rumbled, it really didn't take much coaxing. When it comes to a drink, Imma have it.

I took the shot from her and downed it. It tasted like vanilla birthday cake and traveled smoothly down my throat. I rose an eyebrow. "Damn, that was good."

"I told you!" Tyra boasted, lighting the blunt. "I should be a bartender."

She went to pull up the window and turn the fan on. I knew what that meant. "Your momma at work?"

"Mhm. Double shift. She won't be back till late tonight."

Tyra's mom was very lenient, and her dad was always away on business trips, so Tyra and her brother got away with a lot. Their mom didn't mind them drinking, as long as they were responsible, but she drew the line at marijuana in her house. Tyra said it was only because she didn't like the smell— her mom took edibles all the time— so we would only smoke if her mom was going to be gone for a while.

Tyra took the first hit, passing the blunt to me. I inhaled the smoke deeply. Pulling out my phone, I found my notifications full of missed calls and messages wishing me a happy birthday. It was almost noon, I realized. I scrolled through, only caring about hearing from two people.

Terrence: HBD shawty, hmu when you free

I frowned in dissatisfaction. Terrence and I had been together for well over a year, and this was the best he could do? Things had been off between us for a while, but I would've thought he'd at least call me.

"What's wrong?" Tyra asked, reading my expression. I took another heavy hit, showing the message to her. "What the fuck?"

"Nah for real." I finally got out of bed, passing the blunt back to my best friend. "I'm gonna get to the bottom of this."

"You gon' talk to him?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna call him. I gotta go, though."

"You going home?" She asked me.

I nodded. "Among other places. I'll tell you later."

I'd been staying with Tyra for about a week at this point. It was long overdue for me to return home and check on my mom.

We'd just moved into a small, one bedroom apartment, because my mom couldn't afford to maintain the house we lived in— which was fine with me. Every room in that place held a memory from when that man hurt me. I could barely walk in there, much less sleep. I'd had a job waitressing at a local restaurant, but it wasn't enough to help with many expenses. I needed more money to help sustain us, though I doubted she noticed I was doing anything at all.