The Harlem Way

20. Bad News

J.A.N. If Q's POV doesn't make any sense it's because he doesn't 😂. He's unstable so his thoughts are all over the globe 🌏. It's meant to be that way.

Narrator's POV

Sounds of the dial tone beeped in Quenton's ear signaling another unanswered call. With tight jaws he squeezed his phone in his hand before throwing it across the room. "Why can't you just fucking listen..." He grumbled to no one in particular but his words were to Sarai'. His sleepless nights had turned into early mornings and his days seemed to be scattered memories. He couldn't recall what he did the day before and even if he could, the ability to care was nonexistent.

His apartment reeked of alcohol and weed, the condition of it even worse. Broken glass decorated the floor from the front door to the living room. Empty liquor bottles drowned the sofa where Quenton had been not sleeping the past four days. Not only was he too twisted to make it to the bedroom but sleeping alone was a nightmare itself for him. He was barely home when he came to town because he spent so much time at Sarai's. "I lost control." He said to himself. "I gotta fix it." He moved quickly to retrieve his phone from the floor. He sucked his teeth at the dark cracked screen.

"FUCK! FUCK!" He yelled as he punched the front door repeatedly, his knuckles bruising almost immediately. The physical pain was nothing compared to his emotional though. His heart ached and yearned for that sense of peace. For Sarai'. Sure they've had many fights before, but they always ended in his favor. Too bad this one was unfixable.

Sudden knocking on the door caused an irritable grunt to leave his mouth as he shouted to whoever was on the other side. "Who the fuck is it?" He licked over his lips as he examined the damage he'd done to his knuckles. It was like the pain didn't exist because the only thing he felt was heartache. "Quenton, it's Eugene. Open the door." The voice of his psychiatrist sounded. His face frowned in confusion as he pulled open the door. "Why are you here? Annette called you?" Eugene's expression was one of empathy, seeing the physical condition of his client. Bloodshot red eyes, pale face, dry lips, even his weight had been low. "She did. Now I see why..." Eugene invited himself inside as his eyes scanned the place.

He took it upon himself to open the curtains, allowing light to fill the place. "Have you been taking your meds?" The mention of his meds made him grab his head and let out a low chuckle. "Why does everybody think feeding me pills is gonna fix me? Huh? Can we just focus on the real problem? What I want?" He began to ramble as he paced the floor. Eugene started to clean up as he mentally noted the condition of Quenton's mental state. He was manic. And judging by his appearance and his place, he had been for a while.

"What do you want?" Eugene's voice was calm. When working with clients during the manic state it was best to stay objective and just listen. After many physical experiences with Quenton he knew that it was the best option anyway. "I want my child. I want to be in my child's life. I want the nightmares to stop...I want the fucking world. I want Sarai'. I want US. Do you know that she's deleted me from her life?" He scoffed. "She's dating this Jah guy. Street dude. I can't find him anywhere and I've been looking for him. I just need to sit her down and talk to her so I can explain everything to her. Then we can be together...I-I'm ready." His words were all over the place as he leaned on the counter, feeling pain in his side.

His head started to pound as a dizzy spell came over him. "When's the last time you ate? Slept?" Eugene became alert of the funny behavior Quenton was showing. The pacing, the ranting, the irritableness were signs that he was close to a psychotic break. If he hadn't already reached it. "I don't remember." His voice came out low as he fell from the counter onto the floor. Eugene rushed over to his side calling his name as he pulled out his phone to dial for help.