CHICAGO BULLOCK: LOVE & PAIN

Ten

Chicago had stayed in his room the entire day and had smoked a cigarette or two just to calm his nerves down. Igor had knocked on his door a several times, shouting at his door asking if he was okay. But he received no response each time because Chicago could not bring himself to open his mouth without the tears threatening to roll out like the Indian ocean. It was all too much. What Igor said about him was too much. It was like being stripped naked in front of the whole world and everyone laughing while you panic inside. Another angry black man living in America?

Chicago sighed, blinking in his room that was getting darker. He succumbed all the confidence he could get to go and face Igor again. And when he reached the entrance to the attached kitchen and living room, he spotted Igor sitting in silence on the couch as if caught up in his own thoughts.

"If you're trying to save me again," Chicago spoke, making Igor to whip his head around in shock and relief to see him out of his room although he looked miserable. "Please don't," he completed his sentence.

Igor nodded his head.

"I stopped trying to save you the day you killed those men seven years ago, Cago. I know my limits," he declared, and it was the damn truth. There was no saving Chicago.

Chicago nodded and headed to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of beer. He moved around in silence, opening the bottles and coming into the lounge, and handed one bottle to Igor before sitting on the other end of the couch and took a chunk of his own beer. Igor took a sip and tried to find comfort in the silence but it was proving to be more difficult than he had thought initially.

"You've always wanted to know about my mother," Chicago rasped out, making Igor jump slightly because he was not expecting him to speak.

Igor smiled and nodded his head.

"But you always said she's nothing but a whore and a crack head," he responded.

"And it's true," said Chicago before turning to look at Igor to find the man already staring at him.

Igor chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.

"My mother is from Congo, which is why I am fluent in French," he told Igor and the man could not help but to look at him in surprise and understanding. He had thought Chicago learnt french and just liked the language but it made more sense now on why he easily slipped to the language whenever they had...sex.

"I grew up speaking both because she mixed the languages. I won't say which one I learnt first, I just grew up speaking two languages and it was normal," he shrugged.

Igor nodded again.

"I wish my dad taught me Russian. It's kind of weird having a Russian name and not being able to speak it," he unveiled.

Chicago gave him a faint smile, before leaning back on the couch and stared at the wall beside the television stand.

"She came here after graduating in high school. She wanted to dance in Broadway even after her parents told her to give up that silly dream and just study law. She had a big mouth and big attitude for it anyways," he chuckled at thought of his grandparents words, although he never knew them, it felt like he did because his mother spoke about them regularly with so much anger though.

"But she was too stubborn, she came here to stay with her aunt Agnes. But she too thought she was being stupid to chase after a white woman's dream. They always faught as she wanted her to take up more responsibilities in the house, and help pay some bills. But she felt she needed to invest her time to perfect her dancing skills and a job would derail her from persuing her American dream," Chicago rolled his eyes. "Stupide woman!" He mumbled more to himself.