Trying To Maintain

F O R T Y - S E V E N

Drevon

"Man real deal." Pat says through a laugh as we talk on the phone while I'm on my way home from work. "Somebody beat the literal shit out that boy! He was passed out with his draws full of dookie!" I'm surprised he just now mentioning it. It's been two and a half weeks since then.

I unblocked Patrick number the day after the whole incident. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to get in a relationship with Pat or anything. He is just the closest thing I have to a friend here. Will is cool, but I can only deal with him in spurts like the rest of them. Pat I can talk to about shit, and he know me for real, so I don't have to hide certain shit.

I'm more than positive he feels the same way because he said he only felt a little slighted that I blocked him. Of course, that was only after I explained that me and Tim was kind of into it and was on some jealous, petty type shit; which he totally understood. I didn't tell him everything, because I don't want to give the wrong idea. I told enough to clear shit up though. He don't know we taking a break.

"Damn," I say laughing lightly. "That's fucked up. Who ended up finding him like that?" I don't care enough to mask my voice to fake like I'm concerned.

"Me and the nigga I fuck around with was going by him to get some skittles, and found him passed out in the middle of his living room floor. Nigga door was kicked down and everything, son."

"Damn, they got any idea on who did the shit?" I ask, even though I obviously already know who did the shit.

"Shit no, son. Rashad be shady so it could be anybody out for that boy head."

"If he shady, why everybody fuck with him?" I ask confused.

"We all been knowing each other since we was li boys. We damn near family. Plus he the candy man." That ain't a good enough reason for me to be friendly with a mother fucker, but he ain't my friend to have to deal with.

"I know he ain't the only nigga in BR that sell sweets." I let him know.

"Naw, but he the only one that don't lace his shit. I'a give him that. The shit these niggas be pushing nowadays got all the wrong shit in them."

"Or, and this might be a bit much," I say half sarcastically. "Y'all could stop doing drugs." It's quiet for a short while, making me quickly glance down at my phone before I focus back on the road. The short look I did get made me laugh. "Why you looking at me like that, shorty?" I ask through a laugh.

"You swear you a comedian or some shit, dick." He mumbles. "If you smoked weed, you'd know why niggas love it so much."

I shrug my shoulders. "In my personal opinion, I feel like any nigga that gotta be high or drunk in some type of way all the time got mental issues. Nigga's be having real life problems with coping with shit and don't know how to live with they-self."

"You sound so judgmental right now," he says making me quickly glance at him again.

"I'm not judging nobody, I'm just saying. I didn't have the best life, and it's my fault. But I'm not around here tryna stay inebriated because I can't live with my decisions."

"And I'm saying what you saying sounds judgmental. Everybody handle shit differently, Drevon. You can't expect the next muh fucka to take shit to the chin the same way you do. You not perfect either. Hell, if you were, I'm sure you wouldn't have a felony. I know there are some situations that you look back on and feel like you could have handled differently. Shit, some people only do drugs to enjoy themselves. That don't make them less of a person than you are."

Well damn. Shut my mouth wide open.

"You mad at me, Pat? I ain't mean to make you mad at me."