Scar Page 8

  The promoter just turned around without a response.

  “Somebody’s mad.”

  “And nobody gives a fuck,” Salena said with a shrug as we made our way toward Uncle Nathan’s table. Uncle Nathan’s eyes damn near popped out of his head. Salena grabbed at my arm, pulling me back into her chest.

  “I know he’s an asshole, but he’s your uncle. He was wrong to talk to you like that, but he loves you.”

  How did Salena know about the words me and Uncle Nathan had? Hmmmm. One thing I picked up along the way was to never show the right hand what the left hand was doing. Some underhanded, sneaky shit was going on, and I knew it.

  “Yo, my muthafucking people in the building. Happy birthday, niece!” He grabbed Salena and me, hugging us roughly. He was way past his limit. This nigga!

  “Hey, Unc.”

  “Hey, Nathan.”

  Uncle Nathan leaned over to his two homeboys, and they stood up, escorting the women they had out of the booth.

  “Now y’all will have a little bit of room. What y’all drinking?”

  That’s why I fucked yo’ bitch, you fat motherfucker.

  The club went crazy just off hearing the beginning of one of the most classic diss records ever, no disrespect to any of the greats or the late greats.

  “Ayeeeeee!” We turnt all the way up. For a minute, I relaxed. It felt good. But hearing Tupac made me think about my father. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it was a feeling nonetheless.

  I tapped both Uncle Nathan and Salena. “Hey, I’m about to run to the bathroom.”

  “Aye, Salena, go with her for me.”

  “Of course.”

  “No, y’all go ahead.” I gestured, flicking my wrist. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.” Salena put up her hand, turning up her cup. “Text me if you need to.”

  “I’m straaaigghht!” I copied a Tip lyric that very few would know, causing Salena to call me a lame.

  I was really not feeling the snake-like movements that were going on with the people around me. After what seemed like a million “excuse me’s” later, I finally made it to the restroom. No line. Thank you.

  I walked in, running right into a mirror. I was shocked at what my reflection showed. For the first time, I was pleased with what I was looking at. Originally, I put on a dress, heels, and the whole nine for the date that never happened, but then I wanted to go for a more comfortable set of clothes.

  Very few knew that I loved clothes. I’d wear anything from cheap to high-end clothing. I would find anything from Walmart or resale shops. Tonight I wore a tight, deep V-cut bodysuit in addition to the amazing Victoria’s Secret bra that had my 34-D’s looking much bigger than they really were. Nobody really knew that my titties were not as big as they seemed, and it didn’t matter that the girl who measured me at store was hyping me up. I was choosing to ride this 34-D wave.

  Don’t judge me.

  The high-waist jeans accentuated my midriff, which was smaller than my ass. Not that help was needed in that area. I wasn’t sure if it was the liquor, but I was appreciating what I saw for once. My evaluation of myself caused me to look up. I stood making eye contact with myself, which was something I’d hated doing since my birthday in 2007.

  The bob hairstyle was a signature look of mine. Since I wasn’t into long hair or the way it looked on me, the “framed face” look worked. The left side part allowed for me to cover most of my forehead, thus covering as much of my scar as possible. Simply because of the way it allowed me to cover most of my face, it was all I wore. The makeup was minimal for a number of reasons. I didn’t believe in false advertisement. I couldn’t present myself one way and mislead somebody. Besides, while I could appreciate the ability to enhance myself, I just wasn’t into the caked-up look.

  “Shit. Let me go to the bathroom before niggas come looking for me.”

  The second the stall door was shut, I heard a rush of girls come in all loud and belligerent.

  “Now let me see this bracelet D crazy ass bought you.”

  I proceeded to handle my business in an attempt to get out of the bathroom.

  “Girl. Yes. I found the Kay Jewelers bag in his car. He was so mad, saying that I blew the surprise.” The girl laughed a drunk laugh. I just knew that the bitch’s tongue was hanging out. Ugh.

  What the fuck?

  I knew that this wasn’t a fluke. This was Brandy, Dro’s girlfriend. Or not his girlfriend. Either way, they were involved. She’d been around for a while.

  “OMG, it’s a charm bracelet! What does the charms mean?”

  “Girl, I don’t know. I don’t care. It a nice piece though. The way it shines. Yesss!”

  As I stood there hearing the main door of the bathroom slam, I was more curious than ever, as if a light clicked in my head. Bitches love social media. I pulled out my phone, searching to see if maybe she posted a closeup of the bracelet. Not even five minutes later, I was zooming in on a very vivid picture of the bracelet.

  The caption read, “When bae not your bae but you still get surprised like you bae. Side note: Don’t go snooping because you might ruin the surprise.” Then there was a winking emoji.

  I came out of the bathroom stall, shaking my head. Reason three million why I shouldn’t have a word to say to Dro’s ass.

  Swallowing the lump, I was done crying over this nigga. As soon as I opened the door to walk out of the bathroom, not only was Salena on her way in, but the deep scowl on her face made me stop in my steps. I looked dead in the eyes none other than a drunk, surprised Dro.

  Another fucked-up thing to remember about my birthday!

  Chapter Five

  Aaliyah

  “Baby, wake up.”

  I heard what Eron said in my ear repeatedly. I just chose to ignore him. I could feel his body weight leaning over me. He knew I was not a morning person, not even for his fine ass.

  “Aaliyah, get yo’ ass up.”

  “No!” I snapped with one eye open.

  Eron’s stupid ass covered his mouth and nose with one hand. “Dog, I should beat yo’ ass for talking to me with that foul-ass morning breath! Fuck wrong with you?”

  “Nigga, fuck you.” I laughed, jumping up from the bed.

  “You know I don’t give a fuck how bad your breath stinks. Bring your ass here.” He grabbed my face, giving me the most nasty and stinking-ass kiss.

  “Uhhhhh! Get the fuck off me. You may not care, but I do. You know I hate that morning breath shit.” It was true. I hated morning kisses. I strongly felt that you should handle that before being all in someone else’s face.

  “Ohhhh, shut up. Anyway, I gotta go to work. I just wanted to make sure you were up to go make it to that new counselor.”

  “To work? Nigga, bye.” I took off, locking myself in the bathroom. Eron hadn’t punched a clock since I’d known him. However, he operated like a man on a mission. There was no sleeping in. Even if he stayed in the house, he was making some type of moves from there. I wanted him working in something lucrative and fulfilling to him.

  “Are you going to work today?” Eron questioned.

  “I’m not sure if I’m going to just not go today or if I will just go in for a half day.” After years of sitting out because of the accident, I started working as an assistant in the IT department. I’d worked my way up from an IT assistant to the IT administrator with an assistant of my own. The company was understanding of my need to move around. Sometimes sitting was not a good thing, but neither was walking or standing. Because of intensity of the accident, I had pain and nerve damage in my legs that would probably never go away.

  “I love yo’ childish ass. Don’t allow how that other therapist made you feel to make you miss out on your elevation. This shit is not about her. I want you to be the best you can be.”

  I couldn’t stop the blush that covered my face if I wanted to. This might have been a real mushy moment if the shower weren’t running while I sat on the toilet. “Okay.”

  “I
’m serious.”

  “Okay, daddy, damn.”

  “And don’t be overworking yourself. That ‘Jake from State Farm’ nigga assistant of yours can hold shit down for a minute.”

  I busted out laughing.

  “I don’t know what yo’ ass laughing at. You know his ass look like he sell insurance. Dog, khakis be so pressed. Tell his ass that nobody wear the creases down the middle no more. His polo should be tucked in but pulled out just a tad. Grandpa-ass nigga.”

  I was dying with laughter as I stepped into the shower. “Oh my God, stop. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  “Yeah, I’m leaving.” Laughter was very evident in his tone of voice. “And quit it with that daddy shit before I come in there and fuck you. And you know ain’t no flimsy-ass lock gon’ stop me.”

  * * *

  “That’s enough about me. I just needed to introduce myself for the newcomer. Her name is Aaliyah Banks. She had a not-so-good experience with a colleague of mine, so she’s come to join us.”

  I stood awkwardly as we all took each other in. I couldn’t help but notice the pretty girl I kept seeing around. She seemed shy and mad awkward. I was taken aback by the scar on her face. It just made me wonder what happened. I didn’t think the scar was bad at all. Shit, it made the woman look like strength.

  I looked at the woman I now knew as Dr. Jennifer Long. She was a nice-looking Puerto Rican woman. The world would probably pronounce her as a plus-size woman because of her huge breasts and the small pouch that hung over the black dress slacks she wore. It was evident that her behind was huge, as it hung off the sides of the chair. While her body wasn’t the best, her face was something out of the magazines. Her face was beat to perfection. Her hair was honey blond and long. Like, damn near to her waist. Her eyes were piercing.

  I didn’t like the vibe she was giving off though. She didn’t seem real. I wasn’t sure what it was. I wasn’t sure if I trusted her. Her true feelings would reveal themselves. They always did.

  “Ohhh, what happened?” Not able to see exactly who asked the question, I just answered.

  “Man, she was extra siddity. She allowed me to open up with some of my story but then didn’t let me to finish. I believe she used the phrase ‘not in my paygrade.’”

  “Uh! No, she didn’t.”

  “Go ahead, Aaliyah, have a seat. See, that’s part of the reason people don’t like to open up. But I digress. I hope that doesn’t alter what you want to share with us.”

  “Umm, a little bit.”

  “Well, I’ll say this. I want each and every person to live their best version of their lives. Please don’t allow a person who is living their life hinder you from living yours.”

  I felt that. I couldn’t allow this woman to stop my progress and growth. Ether one of the therapists. I had already declared to Eron, and more importantly to myself, that I would give this therapy thing my all. Hell, trusting the process didn’t mean I had to trust either of the therapists personally.

  “Uhh!”

  Everybody’s heads snapped in the direction of a man slouching down in his chair. He wore a black Lacoste collared shirt. The shirt was paired with black jeans. Black high-top Air Force Ones were on his feet.

  “You got something you want to say, Aaron?” Jennifer asked with a surprised look on her face.

  “Man, this polished-ass girl? What the fuck is she doing in this section with us mutants of the world?”

  “Is this nigga serious? Mutant?” I asked, looking around the room and settling on the Tineya girl, who just shook her head.

  “You know what a mutant means, right? A freak of nature. Something that will cause people on the street to stop and stare. You know how innocent kids will point to you, asking their parents why you look like that?”

  “I know you calling not only yourself but a roomful of other people mutants is stupid. How can you educate people on being different when you’re playing into their ignorance about people who are different?”

  “She is absolutely right. What makes you think that you belong here and she doesn’t?”

  He chuckled in a really manly way, leaning to place his elbows on his knees. He snatched his dark sunglasses from his face with a yank. “This is what makes me need to be here.”

  His eye was dangerously lazy. In addition, his eye looked as if he might’ve been caught in some type of fire. I didn’t budge though. Grabbing the chair and sitting down, I was preparing to snap on this nigga.

  “I’m going to intercept right here. This is a group with a strong vision. This is a group of strong values. We want to offer support and resources to those seeking to heal themselves. This victim support group is just that: a group of people who need support. Regardless of what anyone thinks, if you’re in here, then you’re here for a reason. Even me. We are all seeking to live positive, healthy lives. And just because you don’t see the scars doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I want Aaliyah to tell us why she’s here, and we’ll go from there.”

  “Okay. It’s a pretty long story.”

  “Start from anywhere you want to. I think that’s a good spot to start. And I do mean anywhere. That’s what we do here. We tell our stories, and we compare, contrast, and vent about them.”

  The memories just began to flood my mind. It’s crazy, because I remembered everything, from the intricate details to the minor.

  Chapter Six

  Aaliyah

  “See, it was me, Eron, his homeboy Mal, Dior, Ashley, and Sincere. Eron is my man. I’d met Dior at my school. Ashley is her cousin, who lives in Atlanta. Sincere is her boyfriend. See, it only feels right to tell the whole story. I mean, in telling my story, I may have to get into a little bit of my family’s story.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do tell.”

  “The same patient-therapist confidentiality applies, correct?”

  “Correct,” Dr. Jennifer Long replied with a chuckle. “There are even laws that protect a patient from another patient, like in a group setting.”

  “Duly noted.”

  I began to hear all types of affirmations from the small group, and even the ignorant dude began to loosen up. Slightly.

  * * *

  Eron and Jamal had been rocking with each other since they were little shorties. Eron, his mother Ms. Tina, and his father Big E lived on Detroit’s east side on Lakeview when Jamal and his mom moved next door. Jackie, Jamal’s mother, was a single parent, but you would never be able to tell because she made sure that Jamal was a man’s man.

  It was a summer day when Ms. Tina stood on the porch talking to Big E and Eron when the moving truck pulled in the driveway of the house next door.

  “Finally. I was sick of that house being vacant,” Tina said to her husband.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Ms. Tina was a bold woman, and as soon as the lady and her son stepped off the truck, she went over to introduce herself. “Hi. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

  “Ohhh, I didn’t know we get our own welcome committee on the east side. I hear this is the bad part of the city,” Jackie said jokingly.

  Ms. Tina immediately liked the lady. She also couldn’t help but notice her thick Southern accent.

  “Hi. I’m Jackie. This is my son, Jamal.”

  The ladies shook hands as Tina called Big E and Eron over to them. “This is my husband, Big E, and our son, Eron.”

  “What up, doe?” Big E said with a nod, and Eron followed suit with the same greeting.

  “What it do?” Jamal greeted Big E. He felt his mother looking at him. “Sir,” he added as he chuckled.

  “Wha’ you laughin’ at, li’l woe?” Jamal extended his hand, noticing that Eron was laughing. Jamal was not completing his words like most people from the South would do. “Sup? What’s funny, bruh?”

  “That country accent!” Eron laughed really hard as he shook Jamal’s hand. Jamal laughed with him.

  “Y’all just propa up here,” Jamal said, chopping off the “er” from the word
“proper.”

  “All right. Good to meet y’all good people, but we got a ton of work to do.”

  Big E looked at the big U-Haul truck. “Is somebody coming to help y’all?” There was no way that Big E would let them move all of their furniture by themselves.

  “Yeah, but we’ll manage. Hell, we packed and loaded the truck by ourselves. We should be fine.”

  Big E looked at her like she was crazy with a second head sprouting from her neck. Big E was a lot of things, including a gentleman. “Eron, come on. Let’s go change clothes.”

  Eron headed toward the house with no questions asked. When Big E spoke, your best bet was to just listen. His dad was a nice guy when it came to women. Tina even had to realize that Big E wasn’t flirting all the time. He just believed that a woman shouldn’t have to stress. Big E made sure Tina lived well and never had to do “hard work.”

  “Wait. Big E,” Jackie yelled after him, but Tina interrupted her.

  “You can stop. That’s the kind of man I married. No woman will work hard around him. Your best bet is to just listen. Welcome to the neighborhood.” Tina walked into her house to get changed.

  Jackie looked at Jamal, puzzled. Jamal smirked and immediately held so much respect for a man he met less than five minutes ago. That was realest shit he ever witnessed.

  “I might like staying here after all.”

  Chapter Seven

  Aaliyah

  Jamal and Eron cruised on the freeway to meet Jomo. Two of their young bulls were set to meet them at Eron’s grow house, and then they were to headed to Jamal’s.

  “Aye, man, you remember when yo’ contra ass came up here sounding like the nigga in Snow on tha Bluff?” Eron quizzed, teasing Mal.

  “Man, fuck you. Get yo’ ‘They-call-me-Lil-P-I-represent-the-CP3’ nigga.”

  The nigga really dropped a line from Lil Romeo’s song “My Baby.” He was moving his hand and head like he was spitting a hot sixteen.

  “Oh shit, nigga, you got me about crash!”

  They both were full of laughter. Eron couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Anyway, nigga. Damn, man, today gon’ be long as fuck, bro,” Jamal said, breaking the laughter.