Twisted Love

4

"If yuh get a man like me,yuh get substance, yuh get quality"

Monday, 4:30pm
Azriel's POV:

I sent a quick message to my decorator notifying him of the number of roses I wanted for the weekend.

Yute a guh all out enuh.
Den nuh muss?

He responded quickly and I made note of his agreement.

I placed my phone into my pocket then knocked on my baby mother's front door.

There was shuffling on the inside before she unlocked the door.

I grimaced at the image before me.

What a gyal can look like any homeless person.

Memba a di same homeless person yuh used to knock enuh.

Mi mussi did blind dem time deh.

"Yes?" She said with attitude.

I stared at the thick layer of lash extensions that almost hid her eyes.

A wah kind a fan blade dem deh?

Limit.

Nahve none enuh boss man.

"Mi come fi kash." I responded.

She rolled her barely visible eyes and pushed her hair behind her shoulder.

Mi nuh know a who tell har dah plastic wig deh look good enuh.

"Kashane! Yuh fada come fi yuh!" She shouted.

I waited for a few minutes before my son made an appearance.

His hair had been retwisted and he wore a plain white merino. He also wore a black adidas sweatpants and a pair of plain black slippers.

"Ready?" I asked.

He tugged his bag on his shoulder then nodded his head 'yes'.

I stepped to the side and allowed him to walk towards my black Lexus.

"Dat bwoy nahve no likkle respect fi mi. Not even a likkle hug goodbye?" Nicky cursed.

I shook my head at her words.

Not even aguh entertain diss.

"Stay deh a shake yuh head. A you mek him stay suh. Him no have no respect fi him own mada. Him not even talk to mi, but is alright. Mi soon pack him bags an sen him guh live a country."

My anger immediately rushed to the surface.

Like she drop an lick har head enuh.

She nuh know who mi be?

"Sen who gah country? Lock chat yah man cause is like yuh drop an lick your bloodclawt head." I said before.

She wrung her neck and said something but I was too busy walking to my vehicle.

Fucking bright.

When I entered the car, Kash had already put on his seatbelt and was staring blankly out the window.

"Yuh gud?" I asked him.

He nodded his head but made no effort to reply.

I stared at him through the rear-view mirror while reminiscing about his childhood.

Kashane's newborn stage was as any other child's. He smiled with us when we would communicate with him, laughed and babbled on about things his baby mind saw intriguing. It was not until he turned three that we noticed some differences. Kash stopped verbally communicating and was often expressionless. His mother and I tried to resolve the issue ourselves, thinking maybe he was just slow in his communication, however, when he was five I decided to take him to a specialist.