Coming Out of It

Set

A nigga hate being sick.

B got me banished to the other side of the house, and I ain’t seen my kids in I’on know how long.

All caught up on my shows. All the businesses are running smoothly without me. I just been watching the sun move in the sky. My phone even off.

The last three times I been sick, Boosie get sick, then Cammy. And B said she tired of caring for all three of us at the same time, so this is why I had to spend Christmas quarantined away from the kids I helped make. I ain’t even get to really make up with my wife, since we been beefed out as long as I been beefed out with Rico and Wyn.

Them muthafuckas boy. I would say they had the wool over all our eyes, but apparently, only my ass ain’t know what was up. Niggas done had latent beef with me for years, and my closest female friend after wifey was using me for getback once upon a time.

It’s so tricky out here.

B done went upside my head so many times. We done had so many arguments with smiles on our faces and singing so the twins don’t catch on, since Cammy hates yelling. The worst part was B saw where I was coming from. She so diplomatic like that, always seeing all sides.

She just felt like I should get over it.

I kept telling her I was over it. Who am I to stand in the way of the homies finding love and shit? Even if it’s on my back. Especially after I shot at Rico, and it dawned on me that I could have actually killed my day one over some old shit.

However, niggas is bored. And the principle still applies; I hate a disloyal, lying ass muthafucka. So why not play with niggas’ emotions like they played with mine?

I’ll admit, I may have lost track of time. But shit, terrorizing niggas ain’t the only thing I be up to anymore. Between Wyn having a fucking tumor, Ty-Ty getting married and almost killing his pops, all these secrets and shit being unearthed and shit, and Councilman Jackson tryna be Slime again, on top of handing over Kenton Voice to Miko and finishing up my last lil’ classes before clinicals, a nigga been busy as fuck.

So it makes sense that I’m sat down at the end of the year. Shit is finally calming down, it seems like, and my immune system gotta reset and shit.

The door to the guest room opens at my back. “I’m still sick, B,” I mutter, not even bothering to turn around. I’on feel like seeing her in a fucking hazmat suit as she delivers my lunch. 

She don’t say nothing, just closes the door behind her. But I don’t hear her putting the tray down. 

Gathering all my strength, I turn just as I see Turk falling facedown onto the bed. It’s muffled, but the sob that shatters into my comfort got me moving a little faster to sit up.

It’s the day after Christmas. Why the fuck is my ace crying when he should be laid up with at least one of his wives and they kids?

Turk moves so that his mouth isn’t covered. “Where the fuck is yo phone, Dub?”

I glance at it on the nightstand. “I turned it off… ain’t wanna see no ‘merry Christmas’ shit… what’s going on?”

Turk don’t cry. Not even when he supposed to. Fredo swore he seen ‘em cry once, and Autumn did, too, but I ain’t see it, so I don’t count it.

I’m almost scared to turn my shit on now, but he’s already rolled back over, his body shaking from the strength of his cries. My bro is downbad as the fuck, and that means that something big happened.

G-Pops floods my mind as I snatch my phone and power it on. The seconds move slow as fuck, before I see my lockscreen and notifications start coming in, voicemails from Turk and all our groupchats going up.

I go to my texts and click my thread with B.

B: Merry Christmas witcho sick ass

B: Stony put his foot in this damn gumbo! I’ma bring you another bowl

B: I know your phone is off, but eventually you’re gonna turn it back on… baby, Patience passed away today. She was in a really bad car accident coming back from visiting Autumn. P and Turk are going to see about her now. Deucey and Rue are here with me.

“Damn.” I almost can’t bring myself to look at my bro. Patience dying on Christmas… on top of they issues with Autumn. So much for shit settling down.

He coughs a little, and clears his throat before rubbing his eyes on my comforter. I throw him a pillow, and he takes it, getting more comfortable at the foot of the bed.

A long ass time ago, shit, thirty years ago, this was how we would sleep. Some of my first memories are with this nigga, at his crib. I’d have sleepovers with him when Ms. Bea couldn’t find my mama, or if she was doing shit with my Aunt Carrie. Turk would take the foot of the bed, and I would take the head, and we would sleep sideways, so we could talk shit about how nasty the other daycare kids was, or debate dumb shit about our favorite colors.

This the second time someone close to me has gone through this. I ain’t know what to say when Tati passed. I just held onto Nut while he screamed in the hospital room. I just made sure he had the best weed. Grief don’t really ever go away, and don’t get better. Muthafuckas be tryna do extra shit, when really, being present is the best way to help someone going through it.

“I told her not to go, Dub. Told her ass to wait for me; we could go today. She don’t ever fuckin’ listen.” Turk blinks, before finally meeting my gaze.

I’on think he can recover from this.

I ain’t even think he was capable of loving a female who wasn’t Autumn. It seemed like they were doing the whole throuple thing, two kids and shit. But recently he told me the homegirl was fucked up mentally. Fucked up way worse than we’d guessed. 

Shit, I don’t think she’ll be able to recover from this, either.

“A single fuckin’ father…” Turk whispers, making my eyebrows pull.

“Single? What about Autumn?” My throat is scratchy from not being used, so I try to clear it.

Turk’s head rises from the pillow. “Fuck Autumn, on my mama.”

My eyes stretch. Even in the thick of they issues, Turk ain’t ever said no shit like this. Not about Autumn. Never about Autumn.

I try to get my mouth to ask this nigga why he off her, but it ain’t cooperating. Thankfully, my ace knows me well, and knows I need more information.

“She the whole reason Pay gone. Literally. She’ll kill us all if I don’t get off this train. I’m done, brodie. If it’s her or my kids, I’m choosing Deucey and Rue Bea each and every fuckin’ time. And I’m not having ‘em around her bullshit no more.”

This is way more than whatever the fuck Turk been playing off, so I let it go. He’s mourning right now, his kids lost one of their moms, and he’s talking crazy. Shit, none of us would ever let him keep the kids from Autumn, so I let him get out whatever’s in his heart right now.

But he doesn’t say anything else. He just lays there while I go through all my notifications, and check in on shit. Wyn tells me that Autumn is still at Banning Cliffs, and not taking no calls, but the staff is up on game. 

I ain’t ever cared for Christmas foreal, until Deucey came along and we started going up for him. Now it’s cool, getting gifts for all the kids and shit. I’on think it’s gonna be so cool no more.

“What you need from me brodie?” I ask after hours of silence. B came and went, leaving us food, and telling us the kids are straight. We ain’t even turn on the tv, and my phone is back off.

Turk’s on his back, gazing at the ceiling. I haven’t coughed in awhile either, so I’on think I’m sick no more.

“You can’t clock out before me.”

I shake my head, and flex my right hand. My two fingers don’t move as much as the other three. “I think I’ma live a while longer.”

He snorts, and it breaks up the heavy ass energy in the room.

“This shit crazy… she really gone.” 

We both sigh at the same time. I’on know what to say to that.