INFINITE (Eminem Fan Fiction)

Chapter 28: Cleanin' Out My Closet

She clamped her mouth shut, trying to be cross but couldn’t be. She smirked and placed her portfolio on the bookshelf, carefully, as Marshall shrugged off his coat and hung it up in the doorway. Looking around, he seemed impressed with the place.

“You’ve made a lot of progress,” He said. Grabbing a box, he untapped it roughly and found it to be full of books. He joined her in placing them on the shelf.

Figuring he’d manage that on his own, she opened another box, full of square cushions and began placing them on the new sofa. “I started an hour or two ago. Have you seen the girls since getting back?”

Marshall just shrugged, seeming like he didn’t want to talk about it. “I dropped by to visit but they’re going to stay at Kim’s until the rest of the week.”

Riley stopped and dumped the empty box with the others and sat down on the floor across from him. He avoided her eye, paying extra attention to his work. “Marshall… what happened?” When he didn’t answer, she pushed. “You don’t have to hide it from me…”

Sighing, he stared up at her, “Kim was in a really bad mood. I don’t know why but it was way worse than normal. She didn’t want to leave the kids and wasn’t happy to find out I was going on tour. I just….” He ran his hands over his blonde hair. “I wish she didn’t try and make it so hard.”

Riley sighed, trying to bring some insight. “Well, try to see it from her point of view. She just had a brush with the law and she’s only had the girls for a few days and you already want the back. And then you dropped the tour bombshell on her and she knows that we’ve started dating. It can’t be easy on her either.”

Marshall nodded and swallowed. “Yeah… you’re right.” He stood up, throwing the empty box into the pile by the door. “Have you got a stereo?” He looked around and spotted the one in the corner of the living room as Riley pointed. He scooted over and pulled a CD out of his pocket and placed it in the stereo. An unused hip-hop drum beat started playing with a series of electric guitar rhythms. As he turned around she watched him nod his head up and down to the music as he grabbed another box. He started mouthing words and she knew that he was trying to finish off the song he’d been working on in LA.

They both continue to unpack, music still playing but after a minute, Marshall suddenly stopped and dug around in his pockets madly. Before she could ask, he had one of his lyrical sheets out and a pen and was scribbling down something. Riley finished off the box in her hand before grabbing another. After a few more minutes the track ended and Marshall looked up from his sheet and retrieved the disc.

“I finished the last few lines,” He said.

Riley pulled a smile, “That’s fantastic! Have you started recording it yet?”

He shook his head, settling onto the sofa and staring at the piece of paper. She dumped another cardboard box and sat beside him. He passed the paper to her, “What do you think?”

Taking hold of the tattered yellow paper, it looked like it was ripped out of a notebook. Scrawled straight down the middle of the page was a verse, in tiny handwriting that she could barely decipher. Slowly, she began to read the rhymes before her. As she read, she could only guess it wasn’t the first verse.

Now I would never diss my own momma just to get recognition

Take a second to listen 'fore you think this record is dissing

But put yourself in my position; just try to envision

Witnessing your momma popping prescription pills in the kitchen

Bitchin' that someone's always going through her purse and shit's missing'

Going through public housing systems, victim of Munchausen’s Syndrome

My whole life I was made to believe I was sick when I wasn't

'til I grew up, now I blew up, it makes you sick to ya stomach

Doesn't it? Wasn't it the reason you made that CD for me Ma

So you could try to justify the way you treated me Ma

But guess what? You're getting' older now and its cold when you're lonely

And Nathan's growing' up so quick he's gonna know that you're phony

And Hailie's getting so big now; you should see her, she's beautiful

But you'll never see her - she won't even be at your funeral

See what hurts me the most is you won't admit you was wrong

Bitch do your song - keep telling' yourself that you was a mom

But how dare you try to take what you didn't help me to get

You selfish bitch; I hope you fuckin' burn in hell for this shit

Remember when Ronnie died and you said you wished it was me

Well guess what, I am dead - dead to you as can be!

Riley lowered the paper, surprised by what she’d read. While she knew that Marshall’s relationship with his mother wasn’t good, she had no idea it was this bad. Drawing in a deep breath, she handed the paper back. He seemed to be looking for a reaction from her but she wasn’t sure she was in a position to give him one.

“What do you think?” Marshall asked.

Riley swallowed. It was an angry track with an angry beat. “Marshall…” She sighed. “This is your mother.”

He frowned and shoved the paper back into his pocket. “So?”

She didn’t want to lie to him but he was expecting an answer. “Do you really think you should release a song with these kinds of lyrics? I mean, she raised you?”

He jumped up, visibly annoyed. He started to pace, “You don’t know anything! I raised myself!”

Riley stood, upset that he was reacting so violently to her criticism. She motioned him to calm. “Marshall, I know. I’m not aware of your childhood situation but you asked for my opinion and I honestly don’t think this song is a good idea to release.”

Marshall didn’t stop pacing. “Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do? I don’t tell you how to model! You have no idea what she did to me!”

Frustration stared to rise in her but she held it down, remaining calm. “Marshall… I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I-I never had a mother… I just don’t agree with the song because of my own personal feelings. I don’t think it’s a bad song, in fact, from the little I know about rap I thought it was clever. And if you’re going for controversial lyrics, this will do it.” He still looked angry. “I’m not trying to upset you.”

Sighing, he seemed to release all his anger. “Yeah I know.”

“You’re music is how you vent,” Riley insisted. “I understand why you write what you do. But you can’t expect everyone to agree with it. It’s not personal but it is the truth.”

Marshall flopped back on the sofa and eventually muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Riley just chuckled, sitting down beside him, “For what?”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, “I didn’t think about you. I should have remembered that you’ve never met your mother before I showed you this song.”

Riley sighed, hoping to feel sad about the mention of her parentless past, but didn’t. It was common fact. She’d never experienced a family to know what it was like to lose one, so she didn’t feel the pain people would expect. Smiling, she leant into him, resting in the security that everything was okay. “It’s fine. I guess we both have some learning to do.”