The bells getting loud, ain't nowhere to hide
Got nowhere to go, put away my pride
Tired of feeling low even when I'm high
Ain't no way to live, do I wanna die?
I don't know, I don't know
| J. Cole - For Whom The Bell Tolls
Omari could feel the cool wind of Louisiana swipe against his face as he stepped on to his mother's porch. It was nearing seven at night, and he figured the later he arrived back at home, the better—It meant he didn't have to spend as much time here and could leave back up north as quickly as possible. That was the reason why he booked the latest flight in and the earliest flight out.
A slight sigh escaped his lips and for some reason, even the constant swallowing of spit he was doing couldn't even help his dry throat. For a couple of seconds, he wondered what in his right mind would even make him want to bring Remi down here when he couldn't stand coming back home himself. She would have fell in love with his family, maybe, but with the feelings Omari had about Louisiana in general he would have been paranoid with her around every second. There were a bunch of other things in Louisiana that ended on a bad note, not just his football career and those were things he didn't want to talk about with her just yet. He wasn't ready personally to open up about them.
Just four days Omari, just four. Omari thought to himself as his hand latched onto the gold door knob.
"Momma!" he called out as he stepped foot inside, being welcomed by the slight warmth of the entry way.
The smell of his childhood home was a smell he always remembered—peppermint and lavender, with just a splash of lemon. His mother was big on essential oils and never let up having them stocked around the home. She claimed they helped keep a positive aura within the house, and were great for the brain. Omari wasn't sure how true that was, but he never questioned it because he loved the smell.
"I'm in the kitchen!" his mother, Rosalyn, called out with glee in her voice.
Since her son had left to New Jersey two years ago, this would only be the second time he had came down to Louisiana. It would be the first time he had stayed more than two days too, which she was excited for. She had spent some time with him in New Jersey for Christmas, but nothing beat having her child come back home to the place where their family had started.
Omari had dropped his bags by the front door and made a mental note to trot them up to his room later. Right now, all he wanted to do was be welcomed home into the arms of his mother. The second he had walked into the kitchen, he could see his mother working rapidly on some of the food for tomorrow's Thanksgiving dinner. That always had been Rosalyn—she'd cook sun down until sun up, making sure that every dish she made was perfect.
"Hey baby," Rosalyn squealed, as Omari wrapped his strong arms around her small frame, rocking her side to side in his embrace.
Rosalyn Beckham was a woman who was only five-foot-one, and everyone in her household had towered over her, with the exception of her daughter, Imani, who was only an inch taller. Her hair was dyed a blonde, much like the curls on Omari's head, and it complimented her smooth, caramel skin well. While Omari had resembled his father, both of them having the same nose and eyes, Omari was nothing short of his mother's twin. She was a good women with an even better heart—not once did she judge, or hate anyone. Rosalyn always chose to pray for everyone, including her enemies, and leave things she couldn't control in God's hands.
"Hey momma," Omari pecked her cheek before pulling away with a smile that matched hers, "I missed you."
Immediately, Rosalyn's face had turned into a frown as she rested one of her hand on her hips, "Oh really? I couldn't tell because it seems like every time I've called these past two weeks, you didn't answer."
Omari threw his hands up in defeat before flashing his mother an innocent smile, "I was prepping for mid-term week, not to mention I have a two whole classes with tests to grade. I was a busy man."
Rosalyn hit him slightly with the kitchen towel that was gripped in her hand before turning back over to the stove, "Whatever. You're never too busy to talk to your momma, you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am," Omari laughed, looking around the kitchen to see if there was any food he could get his hands on in that very moment.
"There's already a plate of food for you sittin' in that microwave, Omari," Rosalyn shook her head as she stirred the food that sat in one of the various pots.
"Bless you," Omari mumbled underneath of his breath as he maneuvered towards the microwave, "Where's Xavier and Imani?"
"Xavier won't be home until late tonight because his coach got their whole basketball team tickets to a Pelicans game before they go out to a team dinner," Rosalyn shrugged, "Something about friends and food. I don't know—"
"A friends-giving momma?" Omari laughed as he popped a forkful of macaroni and cheese into his mouth. He could have died a happy man right there because he missed his mother's cooking more than words could express.
"Yeah, that," Rosalyn waved her hand back and forth, "And Imani forced your daddy to take her to the mall so she could go and get a new shirt for tomorrow. She was complaining about how the one shirt she got is the wrong shade of orange and doesn't compliment her shoes or something. You know how she is with her fashion, and she sure enough got your daddy wrapped around her finger to make him take her to the mall."
"That girl twelve going on twenty," Omari shook his head with a laugh, thinking about how his little sister was growing up so quickly, "And pops ain't no help with that spoilin' her."
"You'll be the same way when you get your own," Rosalyn smirked before turning to look him over, "And speaking of, this is the second time you're coming home without someone for me to meet. I'm ready to be a grandma, when are you gonna give me the opportunity?"
Omari began to choke on his food, pounding at his chest, "Momma, I'm only twenty-seven. I got time."
"That's what you think," Rosalyn pointed at him, "Now I'm not sayin' rush it and go plant a seed in the first woman you see, but when you find the one? You trap her."
"Trap her?" Omari jerked his head back, "Is it that serious ma?"
"Good women don't come around as often as you think," Rosalyn pointed at him, "The moment you find one, you better secure it. What the kids say? Secure the bag? Secure the woman."
Omari busted out in laughter, shaking his head, "You a trip, forreal."
The second his mother continued to ramble on about women and marriage, and how she was ready to spoil some babies, his phone had buzzed twice in his pocket. He fished for his phone with one hand as his other hand held the chicken his mother put on his plate. A message from Remi had appeared across his screen, and there was a smile that instantly curled at his lips.
His finger slid across the screen as he tilted his phone for a bit more privacy. When he opened the message, there was a picture of her and Shadow she had sent, posing in front of the full body mirror that was in her apartment. While she was wearing the LSU hoodie he had given to her that one night at the club, she had Shadow dressed in the LSU shirt from their first ever encounter at his home. Remi had her hair pulled up into a high ponytail, her face free of any makeup which just revealed her beautiful, glowing skin some more.
Go Tigers? Or whatever you shout at the TV, was captioned underneath the picture followed by a plethora of laughing emojis.
More so Geaux Tigers, but your way works too. Omari replied, a heart eye and laughing emoji following, Told you I'd convert you to the winning side.
Remi didn't deny the fact that since meeting and being around Omari, she had now become an avid LSU watcher, Whatever you say bud. How's being home?
"Omari, did you hear me?" his mother called out, snapping his eyes away from his phone.
"No, I'm sorry," Omari stuffed his phone back in his pocket, "What were you saying?"
"How are you?" Rosalyn asked, her back pressing against the marbled counter while she stared over her son. At first glance he seemed healthy—his skin glowing, weight seemed just about right, and he had a bright smile on his face she hadn't seen in what seemed like forever. It was much different from the boy who had left Louisiana—Dry hair, a sunken in face, and mopey attitude that brought the whole room down.
It was a simple question, a question anyone in their right mind would be able to answer with ease. There were only two logical answers to the question—You were okay, or you weren't. For Omari though, the question meant so much more. It held so much more weight in his heart. How was he?
If she had asked him that while they were at his home in New Jersey, he'd reply with a simple, I'm great, I'm happy, and he'd be telling the truth. Everything about being in New Jersey made him happy. From his job, his home, and more importantly Remi. But she wasn't asking him in New Jersey, she was asking him how he was in Louisiana, and he knew exactly why.
Broken dreams, bad memories, and a mind that was jumbled with harsh thoughts whenever he had came home were all of the characteristics that made him up in this very moment. Again...How was he?
"I'm good," Omari replied, trying to find a simple way to put everything.
"That's nice to hear," Rosalyn smiled before pursing her lips together, "Aunt Mag—"
"I think I need to go take a shower and get some sleep, I feel a little tired," Omari abruptly cut her off, knowing exactly where the conversation was headed, "Thank you for the food, I'll probably finish it later."
"Omari—" Rosalyn began again, a small sigh escaping her mouth. It hadn't even been fifteen minutes since they first saw one another, and already she sounded a bit defeated.
"Goodnight momma," Omari pecked the top of her forehead, before making his way out of the kitchen.
Rosalyn knew better then to try and press the issue some more, instead letting him go off on his own. She turned back to the stove, wiping at her eyes that were a bit teary before closing them and exhaling deeply, "Lord, help that boy."
While his mother was off in the kitchen praying for his well-being, Omari had grabbed his bag and headed off up towards his old bedroom. His feet felt like they were made of cylinder bricks rather than actual bones as he trudged up the stairs.
His large hand had pushed open his old bedroom door, taking a good look at it. Everything was the same way it was when he had came back home last year. Despite his father saying he was going to renovate it into an office, Omari's bed was still pushed up against one of the blue walls. Old medals and trophies of his were propped up against a shelf in his room, reminding of him of just how accomplished he used to be. To his left, there were still pencil marks on the doorframe that marked his height from each major milestone of his life.
Omari sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing at his eyes with a low sigh. While this was the second time he had been back in Louisiana, it was the first time he would be here without Jeremiah, since he had opted on staying in New Jersey to meet Royce's family. On edge would be the words to describe him because his anxiety was starting to get the best of him. Jeremiah was always there to make sure his head was on straight. With him not here though, Omari decided to do the next best thing he could do that seemed to bring him some peace—call Remi.
"Hello," Remi's voice filled his ears after the third ring, she was smiling into the camera with a black peel-off mask on her face, "Do I look scary? I might look scary, but this right here makes my pores tiny."
Omari laughed, falling back on his bed and shaking his head, "You always look scary."
Remi frowned, "Don't play with me. That morning breath you have is scary, how about that?"
"Still be all up in my face though," Omari shot back, his hand going up to his head to tug at his curls.
"And, what about it?" she replied with a small smirk, making Omari let out a little laugh, "'Cause if I was to be in Adri—"
"Don't even finish that sentence," Omari smacked his teeth, making Remi burst out in laughter, "What are you doing?"
"My mid-semester wind down," Remi lifted up a glass of wine, "I finally got my last grade and it was a B, so I can celebrate a bit with some wine and Grey's Anatomy."
"I think I fucked up on one of my papers," Omari sighed, "Still ain't get my grade back."
"Please, you know you did good. Your professor is probably just busy," Remi waved him off, "You never replied to my text, how does it feel to be home?"
"Home is home," Omari replied a bit dryly while he cleared his throat, which Remi noted, "My brother, sister, and father aren't here but my mom is downstairs cookin' up a storm and don't wanna be bothered with me."
Remi could tell by the way he cleared his throat and looked away from the camera, he was lying about something. His tone was a dead give away too, but until he brought it up she new better than to speak on it. It wasn't her business until he decided he would want to make it her business.
"Show me some pictures of you when you were a baby," Remi changed the subject, making Omari shift in the bed, "I know your parents have to have some of you in that house, and I wanna see if your head was just as big back then."
Omari frowned, "You just full of jokes tonight, huh?"
Remi giggled, taking a sip from the cup, "Maybe."
Omari stood to his feet, looking around the room to find some pictures that he may have been able to show her. He didn't feel like stepping outside of the room because he knew that would just bring attention to him that he didn't want. His eyes examined over the numerous trophies and medals that were still on one side of the wall, before they fell upon a few pictures of him when he was younger.
He flipped the camera around, making Remi squint her eyes at the picture he was showing her.
"This was when I was like five," Omari laughed at the picture of him holding onto the soccer ball, his hand on his hip, "I used to be in love with soccer growing up."
"Oh my gosh, you were so cute," Remi cooed at the picture, "With the tucked in shirt and all."
Omari moved the the camera over some to the next picture, one of him in high school. Omari had his hair cut all the way down, and there wasn't any facial hair on his baby face. He was clad in his high school football jersey and drenched in sweat, a small smirk on his face.
"Wow, you were actually attractive back in high school," Remi complimented him, "I expected you to be ugly."
Omari put his middle finger up in the front of the camera, making a smile flash on Remi's face. Quickly, his phone moved past one picture and Remi noticed. It was almost like he didn't want her to see that picture, and she was right—he didn't. He didn't even know the picture was still there in that room. He was sure he got it out the last time he came home.
"Wait, go back to that picture," she called out to him, making Omari shift his phone back around, "Who is that next to you?"
Omari looked over the picture of him and his cousin, both of them wearing gray shirts and jeans overlooking the city. It was the day his cousin had came home from his stay in Texas. Both of them were beyond ecstatic to see one another but you couldn't tell that from the picture. Instead, they both had on cool, calm, and collected faces on.
"My cousin, Tristian." Omari spoke, again his tone was dry but this time lace with sadness. As much as Omari tried to say the name with some pride, he couldn't.
Remi noticed how low his voice was, that same tone of despair peaking through like when he talked about his football injury. She wasn't sure what happened to Tristian exactly, but they must have been close for him to sound so torn up about. Remi just nodded, deciding on switching up the topic again to not further upset him, "Your hair actually looked really good at that length."
Omari had licked over his lips, still a bit silent as he overlooked the picture before moving back towards his bed and flipping the camera towards his face, "You think so?"
"Yeah," Remi nodded, "It looked cute, so did the goatee you had going on."
"So you're saying I should shave down my beard into a goatee?" Omari raised a 'brow watching Remi quickly shake her head.
"No, don't go that far," Remi spoke with a slight scowl making Omari chuckle, "I wouldn't be mad if you cut your hair down though. I mean it would be less to pull—Never mind, I shouldn't talk like that while you're in your mother's home. You said she was a woman of the church."
Omari let a hearty laugh spill from out of his mouth as he tugged on his curls once more, "You act like your in this room talking about havin' sex with me."
"Should've took me with you, maybe I would have," Remi joked making Omari pucker out his lips with a slight laugh, "We could have joined the mile high club before you got there while we were at it."
"The mile high club?" Omari raised an eyebrow, "You get down like that Rem?"
"It's been on my bucket list, a fantasy of mine if you must," Remi took another sip of wine from her glass, "Didn't you say something about making my wildest fantasies come true when this first started? Let's make it happen buddy."
"You went from not talking like that to talking about me making your fantasies come true," Omari replied, making them both let out chuckles though, "I think we can make that happen though. Spring break is always on the table for us both."
"Who says I won't get tired of you by then?" Remi joked once more, making Omari's face fall straight, "I'm playing, I'm playing. Sheesh, can you not take a joke tonight?"
Again, Omari had flashed his middle finger at her which made Remi stick her tongue out at him. Listening closely, Omari could hear the front door open and his father and sister's voice ring throughout the home. Wanting to avoid conversations for the rest of the day, Omari decided he needed to get in the shower and get to bed quick. He'd worry about facing his family tomorrow.
"Rem, let me call you back later, okay?" Omari spoke quickly, standing to his feet to get some of his clothes. He was sure his mother warned them that he wasn't in the mood, but he'd rather be safe then sorry.
"Alright," Remi smiled, "Have fun my little country bumpkin."
Omari laughed, shaking his head, "Bye Rem."
Tossing his phone onto his bed, Omari let out another low sigh before running his hand down his face, "Just four fuckin' days Omari."
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵
"Aye!" Omari's cousin, Tristian, yelled as he hopped in the passenger side of Omari's car, "My fuckin' boy!"
Omari laughed at his cousin's loud antics, gripping onto the steering wheel while shaking his head. Tristian was returning home once more from yet another visit from Texas and Omari had made it his duty to pick his cousin up.
Both of them were like two peas in the pod and treated one another like brothers rather than cousins. Tristian was Omari's right hand man and vice versa. You could never see one without the other and everyone who knew the two knew that.
"How you?" Tristian nudged at Omari's shoulder, "Feels like we haven't spoke in forever."
"'Cause you too busy runnin' off to Texas," Omari frowned as he pulled off, "The hell is down there that has you going back?"
Tristian shrugged his shoulders before rubbing his hands together, "I may have me a lil' honey down there I'm interested in. I'm tryna get her to come down to the boot but, she's not a fan."
Omari blew out a deep breath, shaking his head with a scrunched up face, "She got some fire, huh?"
Tristian bursted out in laughter, putting his head back on the head rest, "I guess you can say that. She's real cool too, think I found the one."
"The one?" Omari let out a low breath, "Whew, she must really have some fire if you're speaking like that."
"Man," Tristian waved him off with a goofy smile, "You speakin' on me being whipped, wassup with you and Hailey?"
The car had fell silent at the mention of Hailey's name and Omari cringed at the thought of her. How was he supposed to tell Tristian that the woman he wanted to marry thought he was creepy because he was into having vanilla sex? How was he also supposed to follow that up by saying she went ahead and cheated on him with his friend and ended up getting pregnant the next month because his friend was much more better-off than him? How could he tell his cousin Hailey threw all of his failures in his face before she ripped his heart out of his chest and left him?
No matter how he framed it, everything just seemed embarrassing. He didn't want to open up his mouth and admit to that because every time he thought about it, it hurt him to his core.
"We aren't together anymore," Omari tucked his lip, stopping at a red light and staring straight ahead.
"You left her?" Tristian questioned, knowing just how in love Omari was with Hailey. He expected them to be working on a family by now.
Omari could feel his heart sting the more Hailey was brought up and he wanted the conversation to end as quickly as it began, "She left me, shit happened."
Tristian had peeked over at his cousin and could see his jaw was slightly clenched. There was no doubt in his mind that his cousin was upset and he figured it'd be best that he not talk about it any more and wait until Omari was ready to share what had happened. Even if Omari didn't want to share what had happened between them, he'd still do his best to lift his cousin up.
"Well, I never really liked her ass anyway," Tristian spoke up, "She sounded like she always had tampons stuck up her damn nose."
Omari laughed loudly at the random statement, scrunching up his face, "I swear, something is wrong with you."
"Seriously!" Tristian laughed, turning up the radio, "Man fuck that bitch! You gotta stunt on her, no other option."
Shifting in his seat, Omari let out a forced laugh and licked over his lips, "I heard you."
The music had played loudly throughout the car as both of the cousins laughed and joked. Tristian was goofily dancing around, causing some of the red Gatorade he had to spill all over his shirt. With the smack of his teeth, Tristian opened up the glove compartment of Omari's car and went to go grab some napkins to try and clean up his mess. Tristian picked up the first few napkins, but when his eyes landed on a small bag filled with white powder inside that was hidden underneath—his heart dropped.
"You so fuckin' dumb," Omari laughed at his cousin, not even noticing that he had the baggie in his hand.
"What the fuck is this?" Tristian yelled holding onto the bag of white powder with a frowned expression as he turned the music down.
Omari had looked over quickly before his eyes went right back on to the road. He didn't have the energy to explain to his cousin what the bag of drugs were doing in his car.
"Yo!" Tristian pushed at Omari's shoulder one more time, making him slightly swerve, "You heard me! What the fuck is this? You selling or something?"
"No, I'm not selling!" Omari finally shot back at his cousin who was still dangling the bag of white powder in his face.
"So you using?" Tristian's voice cracked slightly, "The fuck is this shit Omari?"
Omari went silent as his cousin yelled at him, not having the guts to say anything.
What was it? It was how he numbed his pain for his broken heart. No matter how hard he prayed, or how hard he tried to move forward, the stinging sensation of his friend and girlfriend betraying him to create a family of their own hurt beyond measures. The fact that Hailey used his broken dreams as a reason to crush his soul drowned him in his depression. Every time Omari thought he could pick himself up and win a fight, it was like his depression would hold him down while life threw blow after blow. The only thing that seemed to bring him relief, were the drugs.
"Are you fuckin' crazy Omari?" Tristian boomed, not understanding how someone as successful and put together as his cousin could do something so stupid.
"Man, gon' with that shit!" Omari waved him off, no longer wanting to hear about it.
"Don't tell me you're really doin' this shit man," Tristian allowed his voice to crack once more, "Shit can't be this bad bro, not for you to be doing this shit right here!"
Omari didn't say anything again as his cousin beat down on him about the drugs he was using. All of the bantering Tristian was doing was making him want to grab the drugs right from out of Tristian's hand and use them right there. He didn't get the chance to though, when Tristian tossed the bag out of the car window while Omari was too busy trying to focus on the road.
"You gonna kill ya'self fuckin' with this!" Tristian yelled, "You wanna die? Huh Omari? You wanna fuckin' die?"
Omari slammed his hand against the steering wheel as his foot was still pressed onto the gas, and for a split second turned to face a fuming Tristian, "Yeah! I fuckin' do! I wanna fuckin' die Tris—"
Before Omari got the chance to finish his sentence, a truck came smashing into them, making Omari's vision go black and ejecting Tristian's body from out of the car and onto the hot pavement.
Omari jumped up from his bed in a cold sweat, clutching at the sheets with tears in the brim of his eyes. No matter how much he tried to catch his breath, his heaving chest did not allow him to get a grasp on it. His heart was practically out of his chest and he could hear his own heartbeat fill the room. It had a quick and irregular rhythm that almost made him feel like his heart was skipping beats.
When Omari found control of his breath, his hand went down his cheek to wipe away the wet tears that were flooding his face. Omari pushed himself to the side of his bed, moving his body over to sit up and letting his legs hang over the edge. He rested his elbows into his thighs, burying his face in his large hands while taking deep breaths. His head tilted towards the red numbers on the digital clock that sat on the nightstand.
2:30 a.m.
Omari let his hands tap the side of his face in an effort to try and wake him up some, no longer wanting to sleep because he was afraid if he did, he'd dream of Tristian and what happened that day. When he returned home last time for the first time, it was like Tristian was every where.
Deciding he needed to wake up to the fullest extent, Omari stood to his feet and went to go walk towards the bathroom. On his way out of the room, he stepped over to his dresser and faced the picture of him and Tristian down, closing his eyes for a quick second. After he did a bit of reminiscing, he opened up his bed room and headed out.
The house was dark, the only light illuminating the hallways being the moonlight peaking in through the windows. Omari stepped quietly, a slight creaking noise from the floor board coming every time he stepped too heavily. When he had made it to the bathroom, he turned on the sink and splashed cold water onto his face, letting it seep into his pores and alert his body some.
When Tristian and Omari were found, Omari's head was pressed against the steering wheel with blood spewing from a head laceration; he had a broken arm and fractured disk in his spine that could have left him paralyzed. Tristian on the other hand was pronounced dead on the scene, some of his body parts mangled in places they shouldn't have been.
Nobody had known the true extent of what happened during that car ride. They didn't know that Tristian had found out about Omari using drugs to cope with his pain, and how an argument between the two made Omari practically run a red light through an intersection that ended up killing his cousin. The most pathetic part about it though? No one knew the day of Tristian's homecoming, Omari almost overdosed.
The only person who could say they knew: Jeremiah. That was only because Jeremiah had found Omari when that day had happened—dressed in a suit and barely functioning with drugs all around him. It was that day Jeremiah found out his best friend had a problem and knew he needed help. That was the exact reason why he told Omari to move up to New Jersey with him; to get him out of the environment that seemed to be haunting Omari and get some help to get clean—which thankfully, Omari did. Now he'd limit himself to two drinks every time he went out and weed on occasions to help his anxiety, but the hardcore drugs that brought him so much comfort back then weren't even a thought in his mind. He was clean off of those.
Nobody else knew about anything because Omari was too afraid to say anything, he was too embarrassed and too disgusted with himself to even open his mouth and talk about his addiction. It was why Omari was so on edge all the time about coming home. Louisiana was like a barrel of broken dreams he couldn't run from while New Jersey? New Jersey was his safe haven. It gave him a fresh start to be a new person, a better one. He didn't have to worry about his past haunting him there because it was like nobody knew him or what he had done. He was free.
Omari rested his hands against the sink of the bathroom, lifting himself up a bit and looking at the reflection in the mirror. He could only look for a few seconds before he started to see the similarities between he and Tristian had shared that made him want to burst out into tears. Quickly, he turned off the sink and shut off the light without a second look back.
Quietly, he trotted down the stairs and into the kitchen in an attempt to finish the food he couldn't stomach down earlier. As he flicked on the light, he saw a familiar body from the doorway.
"The hell you doing up?" he questioned his younger brother, Xavier, who stood shirtless while peering into the fridge.
"The hell you doing up?" Xavier repeated back, his head still peeping over the various pans in the fridge to see what he could sneak up to his room.
"The hell you doing cursing at me?" Omari let out a small chuckle, knowing the constant back and forth teasing between him and his brother was something that always occurred between them.
"The hell you doing cursing at me for cursing at you?" Xavier finally tilted his head in the direction of his brother with a smirk before both of them busted out in laughter.
"Wassup boy," Omari went over and gave his brother a big hug, making Xavier return the same tight embrace, "How you?"
"I'm good," Xavier shrugged, shutting the fridge and pulling at his hair that he was now growing out, "School been going smoothly and I'm ready for the season to start."
Xavier looked, talked, and acted just like his older brother. They both had the same goofy yet very laid-back personality that most of the Beckham family had. It was no secret that Xavier idolized Omari and wanted to be just like him. It may have been due to the fact that Omari taught Xavier everything he had learned from his mistakes. Along with his father, Omari instilled in his younger brother what it meant to be hard working and God-fearing, along with being intelligent. Xavier saw how successful his older brother was and wanted to be just like him, but do things his way—like Omari had taught him.
"Still ain't get'cha dick wet, huh?" Omari teased, making Xavier smack his teeth.
"Momma said you still ain't bring a girl home, so it sound like you ain't gettin' ya dick wet either," Xavier mugged him.
"Don't worry 'bout me and what I get into," Omari laughed, leaning against the counter, "I could have fifteen lil' girlfriends up north and you wouldn't know."
"But you don't," Xavier turned his attention back to the fridge.
It had got quiet between the two and they both knew why. A similar incident had happened last year and Xavier knew about it. It was much more fresh around that time, especially since it was the first major holiday without Tristian being around. Xavier didn't know how to comfort with words because after all, he was still young and not good at these things, so he usually just repeated what he heard his family say about the situation around the home.
"You thinkin' 'bout him, ain't you?" Xavier questioned, knowing there would be no other reason for his brother was up this late at night.
"Just had a dream about that night," Omari rubbed his temples softly.
Xavier had cleared his throat, "You know what happened that day wasn't your fault. It was an accident, nobody blames you."
Little do you know, was what floated through Omari's head as he stared over at Xavier. No matter how many people told him it wasn't his fault, and that it was simply an accident, Omari never looked at it that way. Tristian died because of him—plan and simple.
He tried to get therapy to help him deal with some of the guilt, but in reality therapy couldn't fix all things that were broken. Some hurt stuck with you forever, no matter how hard you tried to forget or how much talking you did to work past the problem. As much as he wished it could, therapy or his faith couldn't fix everything for him—some things he needed to work out on his own.
"Yeah," Omari lied, "I know."
Again, silence had fell over the two-story home and the only thing that could be heard were the crickets that were outside of the house. Omari's throat felt dry again, and his appetite was slowly fading by the second.
"Momma invited Aunt Maggie over for Thanksgiving tomorrow," Xavier blurted out, making Omari's chest tighten at the mention of his Aunt Maggie, Tristian's mother.
"Huh?" Omari spoke out loud, although he had heard what his younger brother had said loud and clear.
"Momma invited Aunt Maggie and them over here for Thanksgiving tomorrow," Xavier repeated, making Omari cringe just a bit, "You know they been wanting to see you, check up on how you've been. They miss you Omari."
Omari hadn't had the heart to face his Aunt, nor the rest of his family, since the day of Tristian's passing. No matter how many times they tried to hug him or kiss him, and thank God that he was still here, he didn't think he deserved their love. He was the one that said he wanted to die that day, and Tristian—a man with an honest career and great heart—died instead. Omari couldn't stomach the thought of having to pretend to be happy in their faces knowing what was said in the car that day.
"Oh," was all Omari managed to muster out of his mouth as his fingers glided over the marble countertop.
Xavier had pulled out one of the sweet potato pies his mother had made from the fridge, licking over his lips in pleasure. The thing about Xavier, was he ate as if he had a hole in his stomach. He'd eat enough for two people and still be hungry. With his fast metabolism and participation in sports, he'd barely gain any weight no matter how much food he ate, "Well, I found what I was looking for. You have a nice night, and I'll see you tomorrow."
"Momma gon' beat ya ass when she found out you took a whole pie to ya room," Omari frowned as his brother grabbed a fork from out of the kitchen drawer, closing it with his hip.
"I'll just convince her she only made two instead of three," Xavier shrugged, sticking a forkful of the pie into his mouth and closing his head in delight, "Peace out noodle head."
Omari watched with a little laugh as his brother shimmied out of the kitchen, sweet potato pie in one and a fork in the other. He made his way to the fridge next, opting for a bottle of water instead of getting his plate of food like he originally intended to do. The appetite that was slowly fading at first was now fully gone. He couldn't even think about food and was sure Thanksgiving dinner for him was out of the question as well.
Omari shut off the kitchen light, slowly making his way out of the kitchen. He contemplated heading back upstairs, but with the news of his Aunt Maggie's arrival he decided he wanted to go and get some fresh air. Being coped up in the house where there was nothing but memories of his past floating around it wasn't good for him.
Stepping out onto the porch, a chilly breeze wrapped around Omari's body, stabbing at it slightly which made him shiver. The sky was clear, lit up by a splash of stars and a big, bright moon that brought Omari a sense of relief. He trotted down to the second to last step, resting his elbow on his thighs as he stared out into the night sky. It was something he often did when he lived back in Louisiana. Whenever he had trouble sleeping, he'd go outside and just clear his mind.
His eyes traveled to the ground, taking note of the slight cracks in the cement and various weeds that had stuck out of his mother's garden. With the smell of rain in the air and droplets on the blades of grass in the front lawn, Omari could tell a storm must've just passed. He wished it hadn't though because listening to the patters of rain was one of the most relaxing things in the world to him.
The more he focused on the ground, he could see a pair of purple Puma slides appear in his direction. Even in the dark, the twinkle of the gold E on an anklet wrapped around her ankle caught his eye. It made his heart flutter and made him feel sick to his stomach, all at the same time.
"Somebody told me you were back in town," Her voice cut through the air like a knife sliding through butter—soft, smooth, velvety, "I thought I'd swing by and take a look for myself, seeing as you were always the type to be a night owl, Omari."
Omari's mouth didn't even bother to open up, because he knew if it did he wouldn't be able to say anything. She inched closer to him, now taking a seat directly next to him at the bottom of the steps. He inhaled her sent—that faint, familiar smell of cocoa butter and strawberries filling his nose up. Her hand grazed at his exposed arm slightly, and Omari could feel himself let out a shaky breath. He forgot just how soft her hands were.
"You ran before I got the chance to speak to you last year," with ease, she slipped her tiny hand into his large one, interlocking their fingers together, "We always used to have fun together, Omari. Now it seems like you're running from me. Why?"
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Omari used to do whaaaaat? Y'all know he couldn't be THAT perfect.
Are y'all ready to learn about his addiction? How do you think Thanksgiving dinner for him will go?
We also learned about his cousin, Tristian. Do you think Omari is being hard on himself and it was truly an accident, or is he to blame?
Also...This E character... Who is she?
When this chapter was accidentally posted earlier, ghost readers were messaging me like crazy. Have that same energy and vote/comment. Songs from this chapter are on the playlist!