Episode 3: You Are My Sunshine

Shad

Life is funny.

I mean that in the most sarcastic way.

How the fuck you take off on your kids right after yo mama funeral? My OG did all that bullshit at my birthday dinner about how she wanted a relationship with me, disrespecting Set and his mama’s name, only to pull some shit like this.

To leave Raya in the hospital to watch Nana die, and dip off with her nigga.

God showed me mercy, letting Nana hold on until shit with Foe Dub calmed down, but I still haven’t been able to breathe yet.

Sean’s gone. Pops is gone. Nana’s gone. And now I’m twenty-one in a college apartment raising a six year-old.

Van gave her some braids that are in a bonnet right now. Eating some mac and cheese while watching The Prince of Egypt. She only knows about the movie because of me, and always wants me to sing the songs with her.

I can’t help but stare at her. She’s a carbon copy of our OG and Nana, with deep ebony skin, big expressive round eyes, an upturned nose, and long skinny limbs. She’s gonna be tall, too, no doubt.

She reminds me so much of myself at that age, except there’s no grandparents distracting you from the fact your mom is more interested in saying she’s a mother than actually being one.

But she has me instead. And I got her forever.

She turns toward me and smiles, showing cheese staining the few baby teeth she still has. “Why are you staring at me, Smoochie?” Knowing she'll continue my grandparents’ tradition in calling me that warms my heart.

“‘Cause you so beautiful, duh.”

She smiles brighter, rolling her eyes before abandoning her place on the other end of the couch. She scooches over, throwing her arms around me. “Can you sing me a song?”

I pause the tv. “You know I don’t sing for free, Ry.”

She moves so we’re eyeball to eyeball. “Not even for your favorite sister?”

I gently pull her arms off me and get up to throw away her abandoned mac and cheese cup. “You’re my only sister.”

She swings her arms over the back of the couch to watch me. “Exactly. I’ll sing with you.”

I throw the cup away and turn to lean on the island. “You always say that and then you don’t. You sing me a song first and then I’ll sing you one.”

She nods once and gets up to round the couch. She takes a deep breath, and starts singing “You Are My Sunshine” slowly, just like we practiced. When she’s done I clap and she curtsies, before putting her hands on her hips.

Someone knocks on the door, saving me. I know what song she wants me to sing. It’s the one Nana always wanted me to sing, too, and I would have done it, but that doesn’t mean I want to. 

“Hold that thought,” I tell her, walking over to the door. I curse inwardly when I look through the peephole. When another impatient knock sounds off, I unlock the door and open it.

Sincere’s fist is poised to keep knocking. He smiles sheepishly before shoving his hands in his pockets. “Wassup brodie? Can I come in?”

I glance behind me and see Raya’s back on the couch, before moving back to Sincere can come in. “To the left down the hall.”

“Aight. Wassup Ry?”

Raya looks up and sticks her tongue out at him. When he’s down the hall, she rolls her eyes. “Why’s he here? I miss Sean.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. With everything around Nana and our mother, I haven’t even told her about Sean, and I don’t know when I will.

“Don’t get up from the couch. I won’t be long.”

I wait until she nods before going back to my room. All my shit is password protected since Raya’s nosey, so I’m not worried about the nigga trying anything.

When I get to my room he’s sitting on my bean bag. I take my seat at my desk and take him in.

The nigga’s been in his feelings ever since Sean pressed him about acting like he’s in Foe Dub. He’s been hanging with this other rap crew from South Kenton, and getting a little buzz on his songs, but he really stopped coming around when Sean and I went viral a few months back.

We’d been getting major play at parties, our music videos had been gaining traction on the internet, and I recently started charging four figures for my beats.

We were on our way foreal. On our way up without him. And now, I don’t know if I even wanna keep doing music.

Meanwhile, this nigga don’t look half as torn up as the rest of the homies. 

“So wassup, Sin?”

“Just wanted to check in. See how you holding up.”

“I’m straight. What about you? Sean was yo day uno, too, right?”

He balls up his face and stands. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

I stand up, too. The fuck? “Ay, lower yo fucking tone, Raya is out there… I’m saying, you don’t look too sad about his passing.”

“Be foreal, Shad. I know Sean ain’t fuck with me like that, just like I ain’t fuck with him like that. We was cool off the strength of you. It’s fucked up how he died, brodie. But you my day uno, and I’m more worried about you seeing yo homie go out like that some feet away.”

I don’t cap like he’s wrong. I started sensing they both just tolerated each other, but still. We been boys since the sandbox. Everyone don’t agree all the time. Sean ain’t let no one punk Sin, just like me. 

But I guess that’s all water under the bridge now.

“I’m straight. I mean, I sent his moms some money once she got settled down south. But I just been having Raya all summer, you know how my OG be. I’ll prolly have her full-time now.”

“Damn, and doing school, too? What about music?”

I kiss my teeth and sit back down. “Man, what about it? Sean’s gone, and I gotta think about Raya. I can’t be going out on the road with a six year-old.”

“But what about producing? I’m getting a lot of hype on SoundWave. And you know  a Shotta beat is an automatic hit. I know I’m not Sean, but we can–”

“Nah.” Our history is the only reason I don’t lay his ass out for even insinuating that shit. Sean is irreplaceable, as my best friend, and my partner. 

I’ve always been down for Sin, since we were kids. I’d lay anyone out for him no questions. But the nigga just told me he ain’t fool with Sean like that. Why the fuck would I replace him in our duo? The nigga ain’t even been in the ground six months.

I calm myself down by telling myself he ain’t mean shit by it, and sigh. “You my homie and all, but I’m not looking to be in no group again. Shit is dead for the foreseeable future. I got some hot shit I’ll pass along, free of charge ‘cause you my day uno, but don’t ever disrespect Sean by implying you can take his place again.”

I turn around and go to my folder of completed beats on my computer.

“A-aight, my b-bad, Shad. I was tripping. I just know how you can get–”

“I’m straight, like I said. I’m sending five beats over now. You can let yourself out.”

He stands behind me or another second before I hear him retreat out of my room. He knows the deal by now; I don’t preview my shit for no one. 

I pick what I think you’ll sound hard on, and that’s what you get. I’ve had a hundred percent success rate in both my clients liking my shit and their shit going viral, so I stick to what I know.

I give him two fast beats like them back east rappers be using, and two mid-tempo like the west. One slowed track and send the zip file encrypted to his email.

The door creaks open and Raya comes to my side. “Is Sean coming soon? He promised we could record a song and I’d be in his next video.”

I turn to my sister, innocence clear as day in her wide eyes as she waits for me to answer.

But I also see the heartbreak forming. From Nana passing. From our OG disappearing. From her dad not giving a fuck.

I can’t bring her no more heartache.

“Nah, Sean’s not coming right now, Ry. But we can record a song together. I’ll even sing on it.”

She gasps and jumps up and down before hugging me tight. “Yay! I love you, Smoochie.”

I hug her back just as fiercely, like she’s the only thing keeping me sane. Because she is.

“I love you, too, Raya.”