All But One

Chapter 33

I stare at Hakeem in shock. His proclamation left me wordless. "What? How?"

He takes a deep breath before bringing his eyes up to meet mine. "It happened when I was seven years old." He starts, fiddling his fingers in his lap. "My dad and I were at home watching Spongebob. I remember because I could never watch that episode again without feeling guilty. My mom was on her way home from work and I asked her to get me a happy meal."

He stops his story to look up at the ceiling; tears threaten to spill over, but he tries to prevent it.

"Let it out. Don't hold it in. I'm here for you." I say in hushed tones, pulling him closer, so his head is resting on my shoulder.

"She was tired from a long day at work, but because she was always so kind and caring to me, she went any way. Unfortunately, that man—the one who ruined my family forever—decided to make a stop at the McDonalds, too." Hakeem explains, pain evident in his voice. "He claimed he just wanted to rob the place, but my mother didn't get down fast enough for him. So, he shot her." Tears begin spilling out of his eyes at these words.

"I'm so sorry that happened." I say, in a pathetic attempt to sympathize with him. I can feel his immense pain, and I don't even want to imagine what I would feel if that were my mom. But, I can't do more than be there for him. I can't say I've faced the same loss, because I haven't.

"You can't blame yourself for that. It wasn't your fault." I continue, rubbing circles on his shoulder.

"If I hadn't asked for that dumb ass happy meal, my mother would've still been alive today." He says, anger fueling more tears.

"Hakeem, you were a child. You couldn't have possibly known that would be the outcome." I try to reason.

"I still remember my father's face when he got that call." He says, his voice cracking. "The pain and anger he felt that night never left him."

"Losing your wife is painful. I can't imagine how he must feel."

"He feels like it's my fault. He makes that very clear to me."

"What do you mean? I don't think he would blame you for that tragedy." I respond. I feel like his mother's tragic death is only the beginning of Hakeem's pain.

"Oh, he does. His fists remind of that, often." He mumbles.

I look down at Hakeem and find, not the tall, confident, jerk I'm used to, but rather a shell of a man. His eyes are red from the tears and his voice is quiet. Even though it's been about a decade, I can tell that the pain is still fresh.

"He hits you?" I ask, my mind racing back to the scene on the street the other day. The dots are laid out right in front of me. I just need to connect them.

"You've seen him. He's the man from outside my building." Hakeem admits. "I don't have an aunt that lives there. I live there."

"You lied to me?" I asked. I can't find it in myself to be angry at him. I'm just confused.

"Yes. I was embarrassed. Ashamed." He says, lifting up his head so he can turn to look at me. "In middle school, I got bullied for being the poor kid. The one who's parents never showed up to anything. The one who stayed back because his dad couldn't pay for school trips. You come from a two parent household where money isn't an issue. I didn't want you to judge me." He adds.

"I would never judge you. It's not your fault your family experienced such hardship. I'll always be there for you... if you let me." I tell him sincerely.

"You have a good heart. My mom would have loved you." He says, so quietly that I almost miss it. "I'm sorry I was so horrible to you. You didn't deserve it." He adds, a little more loudly.

"I forgive you." I say, pulling him into a tight embrace. I don't like that he judged me before knowing me, but this isn't the time to be upset with him.

"Thank you." 

We sit there with him in my arms until my alarm goes off. 

"Pizza?" He asks. 

"Pizza." I confirm.