going through the same things.
My father gave me his address and said, if I could ever forgive him, that we could reconcile in person. At first I was like, The hell with that shit. That was five years ago, and it took me all this time to get up the courage to seal the deal.
I pulled up to the address he had given me and prepared myself mentally to make amends with him.
Chapter 6
James
Home, Sweet Home
October 28th, 2018, 2:12 P.M.
We pulled up after about an hour of driving and made our way into the retirement building. I was totally disgusted by my temporary home. Ah, hell, nah! This shit ain’t even gon’ work.
Most of the old heads in this place looked like they were well past their expiration dates. Somebody needed to nuke this muthafucka and put these wrinkled-ass people outta their misery.
I damn near rushed to the elevator, almost forgetting that Carl’s black ass was trailing after me. “Hurry up, man. Damn.” I wanted to scream, but I was afraid I might kill one of these senile bags of skin and bones by raising my voice. I pushed the elevator button several times, trying to hurry it, but it too was taking its time, just like its tenants. I was starting to get light-headed from the fumes of Bengay, alcohol (non-medicinal) and just plain old funk mixed together from these rusty-ass people.
When the elevator came, Carl scurried his way in with me. His ass had some nerve to stop and converse with his friends.
I knew my stay here wouldn’t be long. My ass is outta here as soon as I find me a new spot. ASAP.
Carl opened the door to his bachelor pad and my mouth hit the floor. This bastard was a fucking slob. Shit was everywhere—beer bottles, TV dinner boxes, and just plain filth. It looked like his ass hadn’t cleaned up since he been here. His dishes were piled up so high, you couldn’t see the sink. And the carpet was filthy as well with stains that had grown fungus.
I stepped over beer cans and bottles of alcohol as I looked for a clean spot to set my stuff down. Man, that shit seemed almost impossible to do because just about everything was filthy.
“Make yourself at home, baby.” He smiled like his ass had Martha Stewart decorate his shitty-ass house.
A mouse—no, make that a rat—scurried across the top of the sofa, dodging shit like it was in a maze. The muthafucka paused and looked at me like, “This shit don’t make no sense. Even I don’t live like this.”
My sympathy was with his ass because I was breaking camp with the quickness as soon as I could.
“Ah, okay, baby.” I walked past Carl toward what looked like a bedroom. Before I made it to the bedroom, I peeked into the bathroom to see its present state. “Maybe he just let the living room go,” I said to myself.
No such luck. I held my hand over my mouth and nose as I noticed the stain around the tub and the toilet. Both looked deplorable. The tub was almost completely brown, and the toilet had shit floating in it, literally, with a stench that almost made me wanna go back to prison and throw away the keys.
I knew my ass wasn’t squatting on anything in there. I didn’t want no shit crawling up my ass, except what was invited. I closed the door to the bathroom. Someone should tape this dump off with some crime scene tape, because his ass should be locked up for living like this.
To my surprise, the bedroom was in good shape, almost the complete opposite from the other parts of the house. Carl had a nice queen-sized bed with a comforter set that looked like it was from Ikea or someplace like that. It wasn’t top of the line, but it was good enough for the time being. He had a pretty decent bedroom suite as well with cherry wood dressers and nightstands, and a forty-two-inch plasma television attached to the wall.
I hesitantly sat my stuff on the floor and made myself as comfortable as possible. I didn’t want any “tag-alongs” like mice or roaches trying to set up camp in my shit when I made my exit.
I looked around and noticed he still had pictures of his wife, Shawn, Mona, and even some of his “grandkids.” I picked up the one of Shawn and noticed how distinguished he looked in his tailored suit posted up against one of his cars with the children gathered around him. I gazed at the photo and noticed that the children did resemble me in some of their facial features and eye color, among other things.
I wondered what it would be like to have a family like that one, and come home to a wife that made a home for me.
Fuck that shit! I didn’t need no family, and especially some bitch dictating to me my whereabouts.
Carl came in the room and startled me, so I placed the picture back on the dresser and pretended to care about his needs. I gave him his usual spanking, and he nutted and passed the hell out. Typical male.
Chapter 7
Shawn
Long Time No See
October 29th, 2018, 4:15 P.M.
I walked toward the retirement home my father was staying at in the west side of Baltimore City, formally called Lexington Terrace Projects, but now it was a homeowner’s haven. It was an okay neighborhood with some crime here and there. I walked into the building with butterflies in my stomach and sweaty palms. I was hoping it wouldn’t take too long. I just wanted to get in, forgive and forget, and get out before I lost my cool.
I checked in at the front desk and made my way up to the apartment, walking up the stairs to the sixth floor. I was prolonging this as long as I could. I paused in front of his door and gave myself one last pep talk before I knocked. Shawn, you can do this. Just let him know how you feel and get this shit off your chest. If things get rough and he comes off at you wrong, just walk out. Don’t do anything to him. He’s not worth it. Remember the three R’s—Relax, relate, release.
I knocked on the door and waited patiently for it to be answered. The door opened, and before me stood the man who wreaked havoc in my life, James Parks. He tried to ruin my family, and brought out the worst in me. I couldn’t believe this muthafucka was standing here before my eyes.
“Hey, boo,” he said with a smug smile. “Long time no see, Shawn.”
My mind instantly flashed back to the cookout and all the shit he took me through ten years ago. My flesh wanted to kill him right there on the spot, but I couldn’t move. I stood there like a deer caught in some headlights as my blood boiled rage and my heart fought back with lust and passion. How could the two exist at such a moment as this heartless monster stood before me? How could I still be attracted to this…this…beautiful man that had aged, but yet was still handsome and toned just so right?
I was shaken back to my present state by my father coming to the door.
“Hey, son,” he said with a smile as he put his hands around James’ waist.
The sight of it threw me. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
“He’s here because you weren’t.”
What? Was he really saying it was my fault that my mom put him out? He molested me, and now he is shacking up with the homewrecker, and it’s my fault. I couldn’t believe my ears. He was blaming me. I was the victim here, not him. Me.
I turned and walked away, just like I’d promised myself if anything popped off.
Fuck that shit! I turned around and went for blood. I ran and tackled my father and sucker-punched him, knocking him to the floor. “You grimy bastard! How could you do this to your family? The only ones who really cared for you.” I spat on him and walked away.
Then I turned around and charged him one last time and kicked him in his ribs and walked away, shaking my head in disgust. “I wish you were dead!” It seemed like the word dead bounced off the wall and repeated itself a couple of times.
“Shawn,