Islan wasn't anything special, in his eyes. He was poor, always in trouble and not good at much but women. He desired nothing more than finding a way to take care of his family.
Tre came from a wealthy family. He dated the finest girl in town. He h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(Can y'all help me wish my baby girl a happy 6th birthday. She is truly a diva and is going to cause me to go bankrupt 😂 My Moonie 😘😘😘😘)
Tre ~~~~~~~ Two Weeks Later
Today they wanted to send Islan home. So there was nowhere for him to go but the lake house. I was taking a huge risk defying my dad but he needed a place to stay. After taking all his belongings inside I walked back out to help him. "Can we sit on t-the.." he pauses.
"Yes. We can sit on the dock." I unfold the wheelchair and position it beside the passenger seat.
"Wanna try walking." He pulls himself out the car and I stand beside him with my hand on his back.
"I got you." He smiles at me and I can't help but give him a peck.
I walk closely behind him with the chair as he slowly limps, sometimes stumbling and I notice his legs shaking as if he's going to tumble over. If I try helping too much, he'll become angry at me.
Once he's halfway across, he reaches for me. I rush to his side and he drapes his arm over my shoulder. He shifts most of his weight on me as he sits down. I take a seat beside him. We watch the cold steam come off the lake. It was cold out but we were bundled up in our coats and gloves.
"On some just for yo ears shit." Islan rocks a little. "I feel hopeless again."
"You will get back to yourself."
"Um goin to jail for trespassing and I know they gonna try to pin that old lady murder in me."
"What happens with that if you don't mind me asking."
"I do mind and....it's not b-because what you think. It's b-better if you don't know. That way if the detectives ask, you will really be in the dark." He took my hand in his. It breaks my heart to see watch him struggle. But everyday he's stuttering less and less.
He pulls off his left glove and writes something on the cold ground.
"You know I like protecting you too." I laid my head on his shoulder.
He's still occupied drawing in the sand. Then he puts his glove down and turns his face to me. "Yeah?"
I nod. "Or I like to believe I'm protecting you."
He pulls me into his arms. "You the best friend a n-nigga ever had."
"And how many have you had. Just so I can see where I rank."