𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐧. 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬
𝙽𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 || 𝙱𝙰𝚃𝙾𝙽 𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙴, 𝙻𝙰.
-
I walked into my house after school, my nostrils immediately being met with the smell of a home cooked meal. I couldn't place my finger on exactly what it was yet but the smell alone took me all the way back to my childhood.
Placing my bag down in front of the door I saw my mother dancing around the kitchen while cooking with the twins next to her, dancing as well.
If somebody saw this scene and didn't know our backstory then they would think we were the happiest family ever.
"Neno, you're home!" My mother breathed out, wiping some sweat off of her forehead and turning the music down a bit. "The foods almost done."
"What you make?" I slowly walked into the living room seeing Essence and Ant on the couch watching some movie.
It really looks like a happy family in here.
"Your favorites. Cornbread, roast beef, greens, mash potatoes. When you were a little boy.. ouu, you would love it." She smiled and started putting plates out on the table.
For the past years a home cooked meal was foreign to me. It was always noodles, plates from the lady down the street, or bologna sandwiches. Fast food joints occasionally if I had just recently gotten a good check.
It was like every memory I had of my mother were the bad ones. I couldn't remember her making us meals, or bonding with us, all I remember is me taking care of her.
"Essence, come help me set the table." My mother called for her and she immediately got up, fixing the table.
This shit is weird.
"Shit weird ain't it?" Ant asked me as I sat next to him on the couch, taking Essy's spot while she fixed the table.
"Hella weird."
"Happy as fuck I got practice tonight. I can't stay here for this weird shit. She might fuck around even make something for thanksgiving."
"We ain't had a real thanksgiving in years, cuh. I remember last year Essy got some food from down the street but that shit was cold as hell." Ant laughed.
"Then the year before that I tried to cook and shit. I will never do that shit again."
After a while of talking shit with Ant the food was ready and our mother called us to the table. I immediately starting eating being that I hadn't ate all day and I had practice in less than two hours.
"Relax, Emanuel. The food ain't going nowhere." My mother side eyed me.
Chill mf cause we not that cool yet.
"Anyways, how has everybody been? Anthony, are you playing any sports? You look exactly how Neno did when he were your age. Athletic.."
"I do track. I wanted to do cross country but—"
"Track! I did track when I was younger, didn't I tell you?" My mother spoke excitedly. "I made it to the National championship and everything, then you know life happened. But it's good to see you continuing that track legacy."
"Essy what are you up to?" She asked Essence who was to busy stuffing her face. "Essence."
"Oh, nothing much. Caring for the kids that you forgot about takes up majority of my time." She gave her a tight lipped smile with a light shrug before going back to eating.
"So hostile," My mother mumbled.
For a while the only noise in the room was the clanking of utensils and smacking. I had cleared my entire plate and got up to leave and change for practice but my mother stopped me.
"Where you off to, Neno?"
"Practice." I shrugged.
"This late?" She frowned.
"Yeah," I looked around awkwardly. "I'll be back at nine. Thanks for the meal and shit."
"Watch your mouth—"
"See ya!"
...
"Neno!"
I walked into the gym and was immediately met with my teammate, Cyrus, coming over to me and dapping me up.
"Fuck going," I dapped him up.
"I can tell you now that Coach finna be on all bullshit cause of that loss. I can tell from the look on his damn face." Cyrus shook his head.
"Coach always on bullshit with me so,"
Our head coach, Coach Lee, never liked me. I believed it was because I was too opinionated for him, and I believed just because he said something didn't make it instantly right.
He also thought I was too cocky. It was like he made it his life's mission to keep me humble. Even if that meant taking me out of a game where my presence was heavily needed.
"You remind him of himself, that's why."
"Fuck him and these other niggas in here."
The only teammate of mine that I messed with for real was Cyrus. I could tolerate Jace, but the rest of them had some sort of animosity toward me. They would do slick shit to me all the time and I could just tell that they didn't want me on the team.
Never gave a fuck though.
I wasn't playing ball to become 'besties' with the guys on the team or be a yes man to the coaches. I was playing because I was good at it, enjoyed it, and could get a good future out of it. Fuck these people.
"Emanuel." I heard Lee's voice.
That was another thing. He called everyone else by their nickname but refused to call me by mine. And when I asked why, he said that you're supposed to call people what their mother named them.
"Yes?" I walked over to him.
"Before practice starts I'm giving everyone their evaluations from last game. Your performance determines the workout you have today." Coach Lee stated, handing me a paper.
I looked over the paper seeing that he had ranked me at a three out of ten. Saying that my form was off, played too roughly, and was in too much foul trouble.
"Three out of ten?" I asked him making sure that he handed me the right paper.
It wasn't my best game but shit.
"Yes.."
"I scored majority of the team's points. And you know the refs were just being ticky with the fouls, everybody picked up on that—"
He cut me off, "I said what I said. Line up for suicides right alongside Elliott and Karter. After that, head down to weight room."
The fuck?
"Bullshit." I mumbled under my breath, heading to the line.
As soon as I stepped on the line he whistled, cueing for us to go. Being that I had just gotten to the line my running was delayed and behind from the two other boys.
"Pick it up, Emanuel!"
This bitch.
I regained my speed, hitting the second line then running back, so on and so forth. My heart started pulsating and I was out of breath like fuck, but I never let these assholes see me weak at practice.
On the last set I dropped to the floor immediately after I finished, trying to catch my breath. My heart would always act up during practice.
It's from my asthma that was never treated when I was a kid because my mom was too broke for inhalers and albuterol. By the time my granny passed away I had already found ways to have it under control when it acted up. Which was breathing deeply and holding my thumb tightly.
Exactly what I'm doing now.
"Pussy." I heard somebody mumble, immediately sending me back to my normal self.
I hopped up quickly, "Ya'll niggas mumbling and shit but if a nigga got something to say, say it to my fucking face. Dick eating ass niggas."
"Chill." Cyrus grabbed me causing me to lightly push him off me.
"Who the fuck said it? You was pussy enough to mumble it while I was on the ground having a fucking asthma attack but won't say it to my damn face!" I laughed.
"Emanuel, you need to chill the hell out." Coach intervened.
One thing about me, my fuse is short as hell. I've had to go off on my teammates plenty of times. I just didn't allow people to try me and with this team, that's a challenge.
"Ain't nobody say shit to you." Elliott put his two cents in.
"Oh so it must've been you." I laughed and clenched my jaw, running up on him but I couldn't even get close enough to punch him before Coach and Cyrus came stopping shit.
"Emanuel! My office now," Coach yelled.
Womp womp.
..