Hey. I’m back.
“When he go down man?”
I look up a bit startled, and when I regain myself, I wearily look up at my brother through the blinding hospital light that ironically allows my eyes to focus again. I didn’t realize I was crying silently while staring down at the carpet ground analyzing every thread that crosses over the other . . . I wipe my eyes quickly, because I hate it when my brothers see me crying; it’s like an understood weakness between us all . . . I breathe in deeply as he sits beside me and his body guard sits across from us both, with dark sunglasses and a black suit like those stereotypical FBI guys. I bite the inside of my lip and glance at my brother.
“Two weeks ago man . . .” He sits back in the seat and sighs deeply, and while biting the inside of his own lip, shakes his head.
“Damn bro . . . you should have called me,” he says looking down at his hands as though lost himself. I tremble inside silently to myself . . . I suppose due to my emotions or maybe the images . . . I was right there again when Satan tried to rock my world. And I was almost out . . . out of the hood . . . but he couldn’t let me go without another tragedy.
He turns to me and stares at me a long time, hands stuck in his skinny jeans—brand new. Everything about him is brand new now. His shoes are always fresh—he got about 400 pairs I think. He got tons of diamonds, clothes, cars . . . lots and lots of cars. He goes to the hottest clubs and hangs out with all the rawest rappers. And the models never stop coming for him . . . he can have anything he wants . . . he has anything he ever wanted . . .
“You gonna have to go to college homeboy . . . Go be great, this ain’t yo fault.” I look up at him again . . . His golden hair and handsome features with blue eyes like the perfect white breed . . . perfect he is now . . . And I scowl at him jealous, but knowing there’s nothing to be jealous of . . .
“How can I go!? He’s dead Chad! He’s dead!” He looks at me with calm eyes, but firm in a way that I can’t understand.
“He won’t die. I’m sure of it.” I continue to stare at him, my eyes probably menacing because what I feel is hatred for him. But I don’t know why. My emotions I’ve never been able to understand . . .
“Oh and I suppose you prayed!? But why would God listen to you with the lifestyle you livin!? Huh!?” Chad rolls his eyes coolly and looks off and around the hospital . . . and when he comes back to himself all he does is shakes his head softly.
“I ain’t talked to God in forever and don’t plan to. But I know he watches over the righteous—at least he says so,” he says looking at me again.
We stare at each other for a while . . .
“Well—”
“Yes I am!” Chad grins evilly and looks me up and down.
“Good.” Chad laughs and shakes his head staring at me. “Bitch ass nigga up in here cryin. Don’t you know yo God would never take you through more than you can bear?” I stare grimly at Chad not sure where he’s going with this and at that he laughs. “I know the bible in and out,” he shrugs, “just don’t believe it.” He shrugs again and stares out the window at the gray sky and the rain that falls slowly down the surface. “I hear there’s a great reward for the faithful—crowns . . .”
“Are you trying to deceive me or help me!?” I yell angrily at him . . . He turns and looks at me slowly.
“Help I was trying . . . when you are at your lowest point surround yourself with those like-minded as you.” I stare at Chad for a long time . . . and then look at my hands.
