Book 1: She's a Keeper | August Alsina (fin)

7

I made myself comfortable in my position while we was in a comfortable silence fa a few minutes.

"Okay.." She mumbled. "you're really starting to get on my bad side." She looked at haself in tha visor befo' steppin' out tha truck.

"Cyd, you know you luh me." I tol ha earning a smile.

I slipped my phone into my pocket, holding my hand out ta grab ha's and she took ahold of it sticking close as hell ta me.

"You rememba whea he was placed at?" I asked. She nodded and I followed ha lead.

"Right here." Afta a few minutes of walkin', we stopped in front a grave unda a big oak tree.

I read tha headstone aloud carefully, since some of tha letters was covered by dirt. I ain't wanna mess shit up.

Jordan Alexander Michaels
Your life was a blessing, your memory a treasure.
September 17th, 1990 - August 31st, 2010

"Wow," I mumbled ta myself at tha coincidence of tha death date.

"I didn't tell you when cause," she started as if she read my mind. "I didn't think you'd believe me."

August 31st, was tha same day Mel died.

"It's cool." I simply said.

Piece by piece, I started ta understand what she means by we relate on a different level. She dropped my hand from ha's, and sat crisscross beside his grave.

She sighed before speaking, "I.. I don't know what to say, or do for that matter."

"Well, when I go and see Mel," I took a spot on tha ground beside ha. "I talk ta him as if he was still hea. I tell him how much I luv and miss tha nigga." I explained.

Wheneva I went ta see Mel, I made it worth it, even if I was bawlin' like a baby aftawards, I still felt betta just talkin' ta him fa a moment as if he was still around. Sometimes he even responded ta me in my head.

"But you know what my favorite thang ta do wit him is?" I nudged ha shoulda and she looked at me waiting on my ansa. "Po' up."

She cocked ha head ta tha side, lookin' confused.

I chuckled, "I bring a bottle of Henny, and drink wit 'em. A shot fa me, a shot fa him gets po'd in tha ground. Back an forth I do that til the bottle empty." That's the reason I'd spend hours at his grave, hadda sober up befo' I drove.

"Just talk ta him, as if you were face ta face wit 'em. Tell him what he's missed.

Cydney Michaels

August stood up from his sitting position, dusting off his ripped jeans. "Ima leave you alone fa a min. I'a be back, aight?"

I didn't want him to leave but I let him. I wanted him to be here to help me come to terms with what was going on. He walked away and began talking on the phone with someone.

One he was out of earshot, I started figuring out what I needed to say to make up for missed time, missed years that I hadn't come to see Jordan.