***
Oh love, never knew what I was missin'
But I knew once we start kissin', I found
Love, never knew what I was missin'
But I knew once we start kissin', I found, found you
***
March 20, '01
Yana
I sat on one end of the dinner table, facing my mother who was cooking in the kitchen, humming. I'd been studying her for about 20 minutes now and wondered what was going on in her head. Back home from school, Jalen walked in with a basketball under his arm, sweating and aggravated.
"What's wrong?," I asked him, surprised to see him look so serious.
"Nuffin'," he answered promptly. I frowned, since he usually talked to me about everything, even when I didn't ask him for anything.
He went to his room and dropped his basketball off there before he came back with a rant. "Niggas keep playin with my height like I won't violate. Can't even say anything else about me, that's why they dickridin' like that. Got my shit all in they mouf'."
Maji strolled casually into the living room, not even knowing the situation but hyping Jalen's anger up. "Damn right. Who we fightin'?"
"Raekwon, bro. He mad ayo bro. Stay on my body like he want me. You could fuck his bitch up and he won't even care."
"What is all this blasphemy I'm hearing in my home?," my mom asked from her spot in the kitchen, shaking her head.
"Ma, stay outta this," Jalen mumbled.
I watched as my mother and Maji turned to Jalen, thinking about if they'd heard him correctly. Yes, he'd told my mother to stay out of it. And, honestly, I knew where he was coming from.
Seizing control of the situation, I sent Jalen to his room and Maji to hers, successfully diffusing the situation. But my mother had something to say.
"Speaking to your elders like that, especially your mother, is ugly. And God don't like no ugly."
I tried to cut in before she continued her pitiful rant. "I always knew my baby boy would turn on me like this. Even James told me, without a father figure, he's gonna raise his hand to me one day. James or no James, though, that is the day Jesus will give me the strength of ten strong men, so I can raise my right hand over my shoulder and strike the devil off that poor boy's tongue."
"What?" I sighed, sick of her playing victim and failing to understand anything of what just happened. "Mama, look. First of all, Jesus can't give you superpowers, okay?"
"But did I say superpowers or strength? Jesus will give me the strength, if anything else."
"That's besides the point. I don't know if you've been around or aware for the last couple of years, but Jalen gets a lotta shit for being short and poor. He's insecure, that's his thing. He doens't mean to disrespect anyone in the moment and honestly, he was right. Stuff like that you do need to stay out of."
"Stay out of stuff? You all came out of me, but I have to stay out of your 'stuff'?"
I sighed out in frustration and tried to keep an even, respectful tone when answering her. "Ok, let's not act like you cared what happened in this house just a month ago. Because you didn't. Just like how you don't know Jalen's situation. Just like you never know anyone's problems."
"I was devoting my time to God so that he could help us all. I was pulling your weight, his weight, even Maji's weight. Not one of you prays. Not one of you goes to church. Not a single one of you does anything to deserve something from Him," she reprimanded me through gritted teeth, her index finger pointing up when she said "Him".
Now I was mad. I may not have prayed every second I got, but I'd done more than enough to keep this family afloat, whether my mother liked to hear it or not. "Praying all day has gotten us what? It took you James to finally get up and cook a meal for your kids. For the first time in years," I shouted, not caring for my tone anymore.
"And what do you even mean by 'James or no James'? You think your little deacon is gonna walk up in here and marry you and discipline Jalen? Cuz I know he better not. He so much as touches Jalen and I'll call Michael on his ass. Watch me."
Taken aback at my language, my tone, and maybe even my threat, my mom flung the plate she was drying in her hands at me. I ducked and heard it crash somewhere behind me before I got back up.
"I'm not cleanin--," I started before she threw another one. And another one. I didn't bother counting how many plates she was breaking as I headed to my room and picked up random items of clothing, stuffing them into my luggage.
"Yeah, you betta pack yo' shit," she stormed, behind me. "Forgive me Jesus, but I know you see this girl testing me. Gon' head out my house."
"House? Yours?," I scoffed, grabbing my coat and phone. "It's a 3 bedroom apartment I pay rent for, but ok."
I dialed Ray, but the line was busy. I thought of calling Gigi, but I needed to call someone I knew would let me stay at their place, so I called Michael instead.
It rang twice before he picked up. "Yo, I was just about to call you. What's up, girl?"
"I need you to come and get me," I sighed, giving him the straightest answer possible.
I could see him wondering what happened, but given the urgency in my voice, he answered, "Imma be there in 10."
"Thank you," I mumbled on the verge of tears.
"Hey, hey," he assuaged me. "You good?"
"I'll be good when you get here," I answered and hung up, looking my mother in the eye as I grabbed my suitcase, coat, and phone, before walking past her to the door to go wait for Michael downstairs.
Sure enough, he was there in 10 minutes, taking my stuff to his trunk while I stormed my way to shotgun, breaking down inside the car.
"Um, you want some Kleenex?," he asked me, getting in and starting the car.
I nodded, sniffing the snot in my nose a little. He lifted the tunnel console and pulled out a sheet from a pack with one hand, keeping his other hand on the wheel as he took quick glances at the road and my face. He wiped my tears away before handing me the tissue to blow my nose, before going back to giving his attention to the road.
"You wanna tell me what happened?"
I shook my head no.
"Aight. Later, then."
***
We stopped in front of a condo facing Central Park North's entrance. He didn't live so far away from me, but definitely in better conditions. We took an elevator up to the 18th floor, the very top. He took my coat and bags when we got inside, telling me to take my shoes off.
When we stepped inside, my eyes swept the living room with its low, oval coffee table in front of a minimalist style couch, and circle lamps with white, plastic, shades hanging from the ceiling. All this set on top of a black rug that looked like a huge, square piece of fluffy fur.
Then my eyes kept moving through the kitchen with its black appliances. It had a strict black theme with black marble countertops, shiny black cupboards and even black tiles on the floor. I loved black as much as the next person, but the lack of color was really irking me.
I looked back at Michael. "So you went through a furniture catalog and said 'everything black'?"
He chuckled, placing my belongings in his room as he answered, "Nah, some girl I used to be wit liked room decoratin' or some shit and asked my favorite color. Then she bought everything."
"So your absolute most favorite color in the world is black?"
His lips twitched as he looked at me.
"Nah, I actually told her it was red."
I looked to see how serious he was before I laughed. He wasn't playing. "For real?"
"I'm deadass," he placed two plates of Thai food that he'd ordered for himself, before I called him, on the countertop in front of two stools. "I was in New Jersey for a week for some business, I come back to this shit, like where's the red? Iss not even a red dot in the whole joint."
I set napkins by our plates and asked, "She did your room, too?"
"Yeah."
"I bet you have satin pillows in there, huh?," I joked, remembering when he admitted to liking them at the hotel.
He looked me over, there was something in his eyes that made me go still; he answered, "Sure do. Satin sheets, too. I slept one night in that shit and I'm never goin' back."
"Yeah, so, I guess you like them," I mumbled.
"I do."
We stared at each other for a hot minute as I felt his two words hit me in a touching way.
Moving his eyes over my face, Michael smirked before he clapped once and said, "You boutta start some', Yana. Drop yo' ass in a chair and stop talkin' 'bout my sheets. Tell me what happened back home."
I nodded, before dropping my ass in my chair (a stool, tecnically) and telling him what had happened. I started from the beginning, from when my dad died and by the time I'd reached the end of my story, we'd finished our food, I'd taken a shower, we'd brushed our teeth, and cuddled in his bed, my head laying in the crane of his neck.
"So, Jalen came in and started wildin' out about a nigga playin' wit his top in school. He cursed. Your mama got mad, but you took his defense when he went off on her and from there it moved into how she hasn't been the greatest mother to be tellin' anybody shit?."
He'd repeated an oversimplified summary of the events of tonight, but I nodded in agreement.
Without missing a beat, he answered, "You in the wrong, Yana."
"How?," I questioned, looking up at him with a frown.
"She hasn't been a great mom for a longtime, ok, but Jalen do need to respect his mother at the end of the day. The day he doesn't respect her is the day he gon' stop respecting you and Maji, and I'm not tryna beat his ass."
"How, though? I've done a lot for Jalen. I saved us from getting kicked out of our home. From the electric bill running up. Jalen and Maji have been like my children for a long time."
"I get that you feel that way, but that's your problem. And you said it yourself one time. You always tryna save somebody. You get mad props for takin' control of your family's life when the time was really rough, but be real wit 'chaself, that's not even what you mad at. You not mad at who you are, you mad at who your mother wasn't. Who she tryna be right now. You have to let go of whatever pain is inside of you that you got against her if you ever wanna forgive and move one."
"I did let go. I'm not holding anything against her."
He gave me a dead stare before sniffing my lie out. "You can't lie to me, Yana. You just lyin' to yourself."
"Oh, ok. So, I'm mad. I'm hurt. Fine, but I can be mad and I'm allowed to be hurt. That's fucked up what she did, Michael, but now she's the one humming in the kitchen, making food, daydreaming about her man," I cried out, lifting my torso off the bed and letting my feelings fly out, unfiltered.
"She doesn't even deserve it. None of it. She doesn't get to wake up and forget the last 4 years."
Michael pulled me back down, wiping my tears and hair away from my face. "You deserve all the good things happening in your life right now and all the good things that are gonna come. You deserve to wake up and forget all the shit 'chu went through but you gon' have to let go to do that. It's okay of you don't know how; imma help you."
He continued, "You deserve happiness, that's why I'm in your life. So you can enjoy it when it comes to you. That feelin' of 'I got save somebody who'll let me down in the end'? You never gon' feel that again."
I looked at him, no, studied him vigorously. He was convinced he could speak good things into my life.
"Why?"
"Cuz," he rejoined truthfully, "I love you, Yana. Too much and it's gon kill me to see you deny yourself happiness cuz you can't move on. Imma be that person you don't have to save and that person who'll never let you down. Imma be the one to show you, not everyone gon' do you wrong."
A record scratched somewhere in my mind and I really stopped listening after, "I love you, Yana."
"You love me?," I asked him, my voice breaking.
"Yeah, I love you," he chuckled.
"How long?"
"Ion know. For a while now. You shoulda caught on when I said I'd marry you, though. It's pretty clear."
I wrinkled my face in disagreement. "It's really not," I said.
He sucked in some air, "It is. But you ain't say it back."
"What?," I asked feigning cluelessness. I mean, he toyed with me all the time, so...
"Do you love me?"
"Do I hug you?"
"Mmcht. Stop playin' wit a nigga. Do you love me, Aiyana?"
"Do I judge you?"
He kissed his teeth again, pushing me away from him, not aggressively, but firmly.
"Babe, stoppp," I whined, hooking my arms to his neck. "Of course I love you, Michael."
"Nah, you play too much," he gruffed, looking for the remote to his television as I covered his face with kisses, sitting on his lap.
"Don't play wit me like this," Michael warned me.
"I said I love you and I mean it, so so so so much," I told him, pouting.
"Nah, I'm talkin' about 'chu gettin' real comfy on my lap right now. You in my territory right now, so think about whatchu' doin'."
Did I think about what I was doing? Yes, I did. Did I know what I was doing? Yes, I did. Was I really ready for any of it? Probably not, but in a good way.
Like going on a ride at Coney Island that you really wanna do, but the fear of dying could cross your mind, even as you settle into your seat.
I know you can die from love, but I stepped onto the ride anyway.
"I'm ready now, Michael," I told him, my forehead to his and my eyes staring just below his own.
His gaze locked with mine and he asked, "I'm only gon' ask you one time. Are you sure?"
I nodded. "Yes."
Studying my face one more time, I could see him think "fuck it", as his face went lazy. He reached the bottom of my camisole, pulling it over my head and releasing the clasp of my bra to remove it, as he moved me from on top of him to lay flat on the bed. My hands instinctively went to my chest, covering my girls as I said a little prayer to the perfectly dimmed lights.
Who don't be prayin'?
I could see Michael smirk at my shyness, no doubt amused that I was so bashful given our last time in this similar position. Lowering his head, he ran a trail of kisses down my left as he grabbed my wrists and placed each of my hands to my sides. He moved down, kissing the middle of my chest to my stomach and slipped my pajama pants off.
He rubbed on my wide hips and the material of my panties, moving behind me to a grip at my butt before he slipped a hand around the linings of my underwear on the inside of my thigh. My breathing grew erratic as I felt myself get hot, and I felt a wetness gather between my legs. Michael's finger continued skimming my thighs, teasing me, toying with me as he did so well. I shifted my hips in impatience and want, whispering, "Michael," before he shushed me.
"Imma give it to you when I give it to you, baby."
I nodded, clutching his sheets in my hand as he hooked a finger into the gusset and slid my panties to the side. He looked and noted in a huskier tone, "Oh, you drippin'."
Suddenly, he was yanking my panties off of me, as he positioned his head between my legs before his mouth was on me. He ate me out like he was hungry, sucking and licking to his heart's desire; spreading me open with his fingers as he thrusted them in. He rubbed and rolled on my clit, before slipping them back in me and replacing the absence of his fingers on my clit with his mouth; my back left the bed, my head pushed into the pillow beneath me as I gripped his sheets tighter at my side, letting a deep moan escape from the back of my throat as he sucked and thrusted. Nothing mattered in this moment but Michael making me cum with nothing but his mouth and hands.
When I finally came down, he had already removed his clothes and positioned himself between my legs, his dick all hanging out.
"You on the pill?," he asked, to which I shook my head. He let out a harsh "fuck".
"You don't have any condoms?," I asked him.
"I do, I just don't like 'em."
He moved to his drawer, I guess to reach for one before I stopped him. I wanted him to enjoy himself as much as possible, so I told him, "You can pull out if you want to."
He eyed me skeptically, "You sure?"
I nodded. "Don't get me pregnant."
He grabbed himself, lining himself against my opening, sliding his tip against the slick, wet between my thighs. He wasn't no little boy; I just knew the white girls especially were envying me around the world.
"Legs around me," he commanded, which I did, immediately as he in turn lifted me off the bed and into his arms as he kneeled on the bed.
With that, he slid inside me, filling me completely, fully. I let my head drop back before he grunted, "Look at me."
I came back forward to look him in the eyes and he warned me: "I'm not goin' easy. Tonight, we fuckin'."
"Okay," I breathed, wanting him to move already.
His hand slid up my back and into my hair, tilting my face down so my lips were resting against his. "I love you, Yana," he whispered.
And just as I was about to answer him, he bent forward and put my back to the bed, my legs still around him as he put his hands on the dip of my waist and began to do what he said he'd do.
He watched me, his eyes moving greedily over my face, taking every expression into his mind, down to my torso and to where he was driving inside of me. Although I had tried not to, I grabbed at his arms, my nails digging into his flesh with passion while he kept up his stamina.
Everything was so fast, so intense, he was watching me, I was watching him watch me and hearing Michael grunt, saying and calling me things he'd get slapped for on any regular day had me crying out his name.
Eventually, my legs tensed up and I felt my walls closing in on him, another orgasm successfully sweeping through me.
His own pace slowed, but his thrusts were delivered with more power, groaning harsh 'fucks' as he came back to feed hungrily on my lips, literally biting down on my bottom lip when drove his deepest into me and stayed planted, emptying his load within me.
I knew he had come down when he released my lips from his teeth, slipping his tongue over it before he moved from on top of me and adjusting his weight to his forearm beside me. "Yeah, this was worth the wait. Imma die happy and rich, leave you with the will and shit."
I slapped his silly ass, still not catching on to what had happened.
He got up to his suite to clean himself, coming back in boxers and with a warm cloth, cleaning me up next.
"You sexy, ma, but I think imma go for backshots next time. Your shit too fat to get neglected like that."
I ignored what he said. "You didn't pull out," I blurted, way too late.
"Shit, my bad. I didn't even think to do it."
My bad? Mmcht, niggas!
"No shit," I responded. Fear started building in me. I couldn't have a kid. Not now, not ever.
"Don't worry 'bout it, baby. You gon' be my first and only babymama."
"Michael, this ain't as funny as you tryna make it right now and you really gettin' me tight."
He passed me a shirt of his and a fresh pair of my own boxer brief panties, before saying, "Aight, my fault. I'm sorry. We'll get a Plan B tomorrow."
I slipped into my shirt and briefs, huffing at him, "Why not now?"
He laid backwards, pulling me with him and the sheet over us. His back pressed to mine, he kissed behind my ears and answered, "Cuz imma knock out on the wheel, Yana."
Within seconds, I heard him snore lightly beside me as I yawned and fiddled with his alarm clock, setting it at 7:30 so we'd wake up to be outside of Target at 8, right when it opened.
I wasn't playing about these kids; I won't be having them, period.
***
"Yana, you draggin' this like you spit flame, bro, stop," Michael laughed.
He was making complete fun of the fact that I was standing behind him with a tied hoodie over my head, one of his black Ray Bans and crossed arms.
"Anybody could see me right now," I whispered harshly at him.
Someone came walking behind us and I switched to the British accent I had adopted in the car. "It's down thair, innit?"
"You know, like, 3 people in the world outside your family, Yana."
"Perhaps we should cawl Peetah," I pronounced, continuing my ruse.
"Peter? You don't know no damn Peter."
"That's the point." I slapped his chest and he grabbed the Plan B pill as we made our way to the register.
I swallowed the pill and chased it down with a bottle of Poland Spring the moment we were in Michael's car.
"You need your own TV show," Michael chuckled.
"Hmm. Maybe I do."
Once home, well, at Michael's crib, he went into his office room to take a list of calls, when my own phone rang as I muched on some Lucky Charms marshmallows.
"Hello," I answered, without checking the caller ID.
"Hey Yana, it's Gigi. Remember, Chicago and allat."
"Oh yeah, Gigi, whassup? How you been, girl?"
"Um, O.K. but right now, not O.K."
Her tone set off the worry system in me. "Why?
What happened?"
"Okay, so I have no friends cuz no one really likes your girl, but I got this really big problem and basically no can help but you--"
"Gigi, what happened?"
She sighed out loud, the kind that came when you're on the brink of tears. "I came to see Sean this morning and we were just chilling, then he takes his medicine and 10 minutes later he's shaking with white foam couming his mouth. I called 911 and we're at the hospital now and they said he had a seizure because of some syndrome he has cuz of the drugs his fuckin' doctor gave him."
She took a deep breath before she continued, "Then I get a call from the kindergarten that my niece's mother hasn't dropped her off to school in a month, so ACS has her and I'm her next of kin, so they're callin' me. I gotta be there for my baby, so I'm asking if you can come down here and make sure Sean does everything they tell him to do. Please, Yana."
It was a lot to unpack. Sean and his drugs. Some mysterious syndrome. Even Gigi's niece and her mother and ACS. But I said yes anyway.
"Thank you so much," she cried. "And I know I don't have the right to ask you, but please don't tell Twiggy. He'll fuck Sean up. He'll kill him before Sean can kill himself, Yana and it's not even his fault."
"You're right, you don't have the right to ask me to lie to my man so you can save your own."
"No, don't lie. Just... don't tell him?" She was begging, which bothered me the most because I knew I couldn't say no.
"I'll let Sean tell him," I compromised, garnering a 'that's fine' from Gigi, who was already on her way to her niece before she hung up.
Now this bullshit, I thought to myself.
"Michael, I'm stepping out, ok?," I called out to him.
"Copy, my card is on the counter. Get us pizza on your way back," he shouted back.
"Yup." I reached for his card and a bag of bagels before I stepped out.
***
Serotonin Syndrome.
That was what them itty bitty pills I saw in Chicago had done to Sean. Why would his doctor give him two serotonin increasing drugs that would hurt him if he took them together?
"Sy-trist said the odds benefitted the outweighed," Sean slurred incomprehensively, sipping some of the hospital's orange juice and moving the bagel I gave him to his mouth before it hit his cheek instead.
"Is he gonna be like this forever?," I asked, pitying the sight before me.
"No, this should be over in about 5 minutes. We've contacted his doctor, who ordered an MRI and a CAT scan for him. We'll do it today, so he can get results as soon as possible."
"But what does that mean? Why would he need a brain scan?"
The nurse shrugged, "Personally, I don't think he needs one, the seizure lasted less than 5 minutes, but I think his doctor wants to make sure everything's good."
"Where is his doctor? He's acting like he didn't give him the drugs."
The nurse twisted her face in confusion. "No, his doctor doesn't prescribe his pills; his psychiatrist does."
"Oh," I mumbled.
Psychiatrist? What did Sean need a psychiatrist for?
"What kind of pills does he take? What are they for?," I asked the nurse.
She shook her head, "Can't tell you. I'm already risking a lot telling you anything and you're not his emergency contact. Ask him when he's better."
I nodded and thanked her, sitting on a chair beside Sean in the waiting room as we waited for his brain scans.
***
"You'll get the results mailed to you within 24 hours; so will your doctor. Fingers crossed, nothing comes out of it and today will be the best time you ever wasted."
Sean thanked the man and walked awkwardly towards me. "We can go now," he mumbled, not meeting my eyes.
"You have to tell Michael what happened to you today," I told him.
He sighed and reached for his phone, speed dialing Michael. He told him how he ended up at the hospital, largely shifting the narrative away from his sickness and more towards Gigi being a drama queen.
He passed me the phone: "Michael's asking to speak to you."
I took it from him and said, "Hello?"
"Did you even get the pizza?"
"No," I sighed.
"You stay tryna save somebody, I told you."
"Gigi's my friend and she had to take care of something bigger."
"Oh shit, you tryna get extra points by helping more people," he choked with dry sarcasm.
"Is there a reason you wanna talk to me?," I asked him.
"Yeah. Don't ever pull this shit again. I'm not wit it. I appreciate you tryna help, but if you bein' sneaky and shit, you probably not doin' as much good as you think."
My mouth dropped a bit, shock and a bit of shame washed over me. I was sneaky about it and wasn't even going to tell him, but Michael didn't talk to me like this, ever.
I swallowed my pride and told him I agreed, that I was sorry and this wouldn't happen again. "Thank you," was all he said before he hung up.
"How much trouble are you in?," Sean asked me, giving me a weak smile as we walked to the escalator down.
"I'm not in trouble. You are."
He nodded, not really able to argue with that.
"Why do you need a psychiatrist?"
He was visibly taken aback at the question, but flipped it back on me: "Why do you need to know?"
"You work with Michael," I answered. "His business is my business."
At this, Sean chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't know a damn thing about him."
He went on, "I'm what they call clinically depressed. A lot of shit went down in my life when I was younger and I never, I don't know, healed from it? I had bad mood swings, insomnia, and su-, stuff."
"Suicidal thoughts?"
"No," he snapped at me. "I never wanted to kill myself. I never even tried. I just, thought of dying and liked it. That's not suicide. Or suicidal."
It definitely was, but I didn't press the matter.
"So," I asked him, tentatively, "are you just going to put your life at risk forever for some happiness?"
"Happiness? Shit, peace of mind is the best I can get. A good night's sleep is extra."
We walked out the automatic doors of the hospital. "Michael's gonna meet you at the entrance," he told me. "I'm taking the bus."
"He didn't invite you?," I asked him.
"It's not that. I just, don't wanna be near anyone right now."
I nodded and waved him goodbye. "Don't get another seizure," I told him.
He laughed a little and shook his head, walking to the bus that had just pulled up as I made my way to Michael's car.
Once I got in and buckled, I tried to make peace with him and asked, "You still want pizza?"
"I want you to stay away from Sean," Michael said quietly, but not in a meek way. In a serious way.
"Sean is always around you and Gigi. If I stay away from Sean, then you better keep him and Gigi away from me. But you did make me become friends with Gigi so the last one's not even an option."
"Don't play wit me, Yana. Imma beat his ass the next time you talk to him. And imma keep beating him, until you decide he's gotten enough."
"Wow," I scoffed. "You're crazy. You need mental help, buddy."
"I think we can go with Tony's pizza. Or Harlem Pizza."
"Psycho," I muttered.
"Tony's, right? I agree."
***
***
A/N: ^^ Yana when Michael said he gonna beat Sean's ass cuz of her 🥴
Yes, I smell trouble in paradise, too. Fingers crossed they make it 💀
Um, I also wanna mention that Brandy, Susie, and Zane (non-Wattpad writer) have definitely been my inspirations for *that* scene, but theirs are so golden, it feels insulting LMAO. Anywho, read them when you need the right direction for smut
Xoxo, gossip girl 💋