“She met somebody else.”
Mrs. Richards nodded. “She’s young, the man she loved was murdered, and in her mind you were never coming back. I’m sure enough time passed by. I’m sure she mourned her loss and then moved on. Come on, what do you expect? You were dead, and you were never coming back.” She turned to him. “I remember being met by those doctors in the hospital and being told that you were dead. I broke down right there and fell into that doctor’s arms. The first thing I thought was, my poor baby. And then I thought about how I was never going to see you alive again, how I was never going to get to see that smile of yours, how I was never going to get to hold any grandchildren from you. My Quadir was dead, and he was never coming back. I was preparing for a funeral in my head, and preparing for a life without my baby. Right up until Amelia called and had me meet her in that damn parking garage across from the hospital. She snuck me into the intensive care unit late that night and allowed me to peek into your room. I got down on my knees and prayed so hard to God that night, thanking Him for giving me my baby back, that I couldn’t walk for two days. I had the privilege of knowing that you were alive. I had the ability to sneak in and see you whenever I wanted. She didn’t have those things. Your death to her was as sure as the sun sets in the evening time. She had to move on; she had to live.”
“You don’t understand, she was fucking with Jerrell, Mom. And he’s the one who tried to kill me.”
Viola finished her last dish and turned to her son. “It hurts like hell, and you feel betrayed by that. Quadir, I put that girl on the streets, so that I could hide the fact you were alive, and look for that damn money. Put her on the streets! That was the worst thing I have ever done in my entire life. She had nothing, and nowhere to go when I did that. We can’t blame her for moving forward with life. She’s strong, Quadir. She wasn’t just going to curl up in a ball and die. I raised you to be a man. To stand up and be a man. No one is at fault here. You got shot, we had to protect you to keep you alive, she thought that you were dead, and life happened. It’s life’s fault. So, now you have a choice. You can go on and always wonder what if, or you can put those questions to rest.”
“How?”
“Do you love her?”
Quadir went silent.
“Do you still love her?” Viola asked more forcefully.
“I love her.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
“And Amelia?”
“What about her?”
“I love her too.”
“You love her for everything that she did for you? Or are you in love with her?”
Quadir shook his head. “That’s just it; I don’t know. She means everything to me. She’s everything that I’ve never had in a woman. She’s independent, she’s smart, she’s fun to be around, she’s strong. She puts my ass in check when I need it. I’ve never met anybody like her.”
“Well, that’s because she’s independent and not no project chickenhead, like you’re used to.”
Quadir laughed. “Mom!”
“You dating these hoochies looking for some tennis shoes and something to eat, and maybe get an outfit and their hair and nails done. Let’s keep it real.” She kissed Quadir on top of his head. “And for the first time in my baby’s life, he’s met a real black woman. A strong sister, who tells him to keep his money in his pocket; she’s got this. She doesn’t need anything from you, Quadir. She just wants your love.”
“And I want to give it to her. She deserves it.”
“Don’t give it to her because you think you owe it to her, baby. One thing about women like Amelia, they always land on their feet. No matter what decision you make, even if your decision is to make none at all, she’s going to be all right.”
Quadir exhaled. “You got a quarter?”
“A quarter? What for?”
“Hell, for the coin toss. I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do.”
Viola threw her head back in laughter. Quadir joined in.
“Follow your heart, Quadir.”
“My heart is pulling me in two different directions.”
She shook solemnly. “No it’s not. It’s pulling you in one direction, but your pride and sense of duty are pulling you in another. You don’t owe anyone anything. You don’t owe Amelia anything for saving your life. She’s a doctor; it’s her job. You don’t owe those niggas on the street no explanation. You don’t owe Gena and who cares what she did in the midst of your absence? Listen, son, you make your decisions in life based on what will make you happy. You were given a second chance to live. Take it. Don’t let nothing stop you from living your life to the fullest and being happy.”
Quadir nodded. “I thought you liked Amelia better.”
“I do. What mother wouldn’t want their child to marry a doctor? But hell, I’m from the hood so I’ll always root for the underdog. Listen, it’s not that I don’t like Gena or that I like Amelia better; you’re the one that gots to lay up with the broad. Shoot, not me. I just want you to make whatever decision will make you happy. I’m your mother; I love you-that’s what mothers do.”
Sneaky Sneaky
Rik pulled up to the shopping center in his black Range Rover and found a parking space up front. Today was a good day for shopping. He had a little change left over, and he might as well get some new kicks. Even if he wasn’t balling out of control like before, there was no sense in looking like shit. He lived by the mantra “never let ’em see you sweat.” So even though times were desperate, he was still going to look as if he were the fucking king of Philly.
The clothing store that he chose today was one of his favorites. It was a small Italian clothier that sold fine Italian suits. They could hand-make you a suit, or tailor something off the rack to fit you just right. They also carried the latest in street gear in another section of the store. Today, he was here to do a little bit of shopping for both.
Rik stepped into the shop and waved to the owner’s son, Anthony. Anthony was a typical young Italian. He wore the flyest tailored suits out there, but fucked them up by wearing too much jewelry. He had a Rolex on one wrist, a Rolex bracelet on the other, three rings on his left-hand fingers, and four rings on his right-hand fingers… way too much.
Rik headed for the suits. He was going to find something on the rack and have it tailored to his specifications. Charcoal was the color he needed, something in a really dark gray color, not too close to black, but none of that light gray shit either. Something that looked fly. He already had the shoes and a tie that would go perfectly with what he had in mind.
“Well hello, Tyrik!” Detective Ellington greeted him from behind.
“Spending a little bit of that dope money today, are we?” Detective Davis asked, stepping to the other side of Rik.
Rik saw that the detectives had him boxed in. “Man, what y’all want?”
“We’re putting together a greatest-hits mix tape,” Ellington told him. “We got your soundtrack from the dope deals you made.”
“And your conversations with your cellmate while you were in jail,” Davis added.
“And of course the best one of all, your conversation with Ms. Scott,” Ellington told him.
“You know, the one where she offered you the money to make a two-million-dollar bond,” Davis added, placing his arm around Rik.
Instantly Rik became nervous. How the fuck do they know that?
“I don’t know what y’all are talking about,” Rik told them.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah. Let’s not play stupid, Tyrik,” Davis said. “Don’t make me pull out my little tape recorder and play it back for you.”
Ellington shook her head and whispered into Rik’s ear. “You really don’t want him to pull out the tape recorder. It really pisses him off when he has to do that. Besides, if we listen to all those tapes of you discussing drug deals and drug money, we might find reason to indict you once again.”
“Okay.” Rik lifted his hands in surrender. “What do you want from me?”