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𝟭𝟮 𝗬𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥...
He was a young man. An eighteen year old young man who was on his way to college. Morehouse College. He would be thousands of miles away from his family. His mother. His father. His comfort. The thought of being separated from them had his anxiety on ten. That resulted in his shaky hands unable to fix his tie correctly. His irritation reached its point, snatching the tie from his dress shirt collar and groaned.
"You had it," the deep voice spoke behind him.
The soon-to-be graduate looked over to the doorway and his father standing there. He was so deep into his own mind he didn't realize how long he was there. "Oh what's up, Pops?" His own voice had dropped octaves.
His father in his mid fifties barely looked as if he aged but the salt-and-pepper in his low fade and mid beard showed his maturity.
The hood cadence in his strides remained as he entered fully into his son's bedroom with his big hand open. The Brioni Textured Silk tie was placed in his hand and he stood in front of his son that had a growth spurt of six-foot-one. He popped the shirts collar before hanging the bordeaux red tie from his neck. "What's the nerves fa?"
"Just being so far away." DeAngelo, Deucey, exhaled as his father looped the wide end of the tie under the narrow end. "I'm so used to you and Mom just being a city over. Uncles and cousins not too far. I know I'm eighteen and this apart of adulting but I was ready for it until it actually came."
"That's how it be," De said as he finished the Brioni tie. "But I know you gonna be aight. We raised you right and you gon' go to that school and prosper the way you know how. On the bright, you won't be alone. You'll have a cousin right at Spelman. So whenever you need a sense of home. Y'all link up. I might not went to college but I know how it can be. Y'all look out for each other."
"Yes sir." Deucey said as his father stepped over so he was able to see the tie lay against with his dress shirt. "You ain't need college no way. You won how many Grammys and awards?"
"Nine," De coughed out, and then chuckled with his son. "Two for rap albums might I add."
"Still can't rap foreal," the feminine voice joked, entering the room.
De flipped the bird to the mother of his child.
"Aww my baby!" Amaury pouted, lip poked out as she hugged her son.
Deucey hugged his mother back. "Don't start crying no more."
"I'm trying not to." Amaury promised, smoothing out his dress shirt. "Now your sisters, I can't speak for them. I had their father take them to grab ice cream before we leave. Just to keep 'em settled."
"Where that boy at!?" A voice hollered followed by a front door shutting.
"We back here!" De called back to the familiar voice.
Several footsteps approached along with applauses from his brothers—Elio, Trei, and Javon—entering his bedroom. Javon bear hugged Deucey, lifting him off his feet with a forced grunt.
"Nigga, put me down." he was placed back on his loafers, "You wrinkling my fit."
"You graduating nigga!" Javon said, smacking Deuce in the chest with the back of his hand.
"That boy goin' to Morehouse." Elio grinned, shaking his brother by his left shoulder.
"Yup! They got som' fineeee honey's out there in Atlanta." Trei said, smiling and rubbing his hands together.
"But be careful though—"
"Check the neck," Trei, Elio, and Javon pointed to their Adams apple in unison.
Deucey chuckled. "Y'all stupid. But noted, though."
"And no babies." Amaury smacked his arm, "Leave the grandparent to ya Daddy. Where y'all's Moms?"
"Handling the girls at home," Elio responded. "Jozi goin' through that teen girl attitude, and the twins givin' Wyze and Mama a hard time."
"And that's why we came over here." Javon spoke, "My daughter way in Texas. I ain't gotta deal wit that."
"And that's why me and wifey waiting until we actually ready." Trei added.
"So if you don't wanna deal wit that, wrap it up li'l bro." Elio advised.
"Duly noted." Deucey chuckled. "Uncle Tae and them gon' make it? I know they gotta graduation to go to too."
"Yeah that one don't start until two hours after yours, so we'll be able to follow them down there after yours."
"What about Aunt Ledé?" Deucey asked, and the room saddens. "I know she's dealing with a lot."
"Yeahhh, I'm not sure." De admits, "Nobody heard from her but we gonna see once we at the graduation. Which we gotta get ready to go to."
"Right.." Deucey remembers, leaning past his mother to grab his suit jacket. "The graduation. Let's ride, then."
In the end, DeAundre Booker was able to be a better him. He forgave himself. He forgave his father. He forgave Monica.
"DeAundre, what do you see yourself being when you grow up?" He remembers his ninth grade teacher ask—only five months of having to pull the trigger on his father—energy cold, soul lost.
"Dead...," Was the only answer he could give her.
If he could go back and answer that teacher he would tell her, "I'll probably have to go sit down and do a bid to learn from the shit I done. Go through loss, and heartbreak. I'll get out and still be messed up. But I'll fix myself. Ill lose my mother and feel that would break me but instead it helped heal me. I'll become a father to five beautiful children and have three bonus kids that I will instill to strive for better. I'll be a Grammy award winning producer and a book on New York Times Best Sellers. I'll be better than people expect me to be."
Thinking on that, De grinned proudly and applauding at DeAngelo Booker on stage retrieving his diploma.
Life was great at fifty-five years old for the once street gangsta. He had his kids, his brothers and their families, the mother of his child and her new family, and his partners around to keep him sane and on the straight and narrow.
