' THE RAPTURE ' › D. SWING [ DISCONTINUED ]

xii.

ᴅᴇᴠᴀɴᴛᴇ.
( ᴛᴡᴏ ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀɢᴏ.... )

"When are you plannin' on movin' down here permanently?", I asked Dyana, wanting to spend more time than allowed since she lived in Charlotte but would visit occasionally.

She sighed, rolling her eyes a bit and I gave her look, "Look, dad. I ain't really comfortable livin' out here with all these sedity folks. I'd rather stay up north. Besides, it be hot as h—" She started to curse but quickly caught herself. "Heck. Hot as heck. I ain't about this life, dad. For real. I don't even know why you livin' out here on a ranch like you Pootie Tang or somethin'. But then again, that would explain the hairstyle you rockin'. When you gon' lemme take you to the barbershop and get you a nice lil' fade?", she inquired, reaching up to run the palm of her hand over my hair, frowning slightly.

"Never. When you gon' stop chat-snappin' yourself singin' in the car like you sound good?", I asked with the same tone she had given me.

Suddenly, her jaw dropped, looking at me with shocked yet she was amused, "Uh, uh. No you didn't. Don't be tryna' come for me. You my dad, man. And it's Snapchat."

"And you my daughter. Don't be talkin' about my damn hairstyle like yours is any better", I shot back jokingly, chuckling shortly after.

She kissed her teeth, waving me off, "I got my hair in bundles, aight? This wasn't cheap either. Wish I could say the same about them women you be datin'. You sure know how to pick'em."

"Yep. I picked ya' mama, didn't I?", I replied with a smirk and she gasped, holding her hand up as if she was about to hit me. "I wish yo' ass would. Besides, you had it comin'. Talkin' about my exes. I had to get somebody who looked worse than me. Enhances my beauty."

She began to mumble under her breath and I only caught a few words, like 'Whatever, ugly.'

"You stay hatin'. What about Monica? I thought you liked her", I asked, folding my arms over my chest as I looked down at her.

She released a dry laugh, "Yeah because she was nice. That don't mean I thought she was pretty."

"Ah, see. That's foul. You wrong, man", I said, laughing as I did so and she laughed along with me.

Then the doorbell rang, interrupting our laughter.

I sighed, shaking my head and told her to hold on as I made my way over to see a woman's mosaic blurred figure through the oval shaped window along the door, furrowing my eyebrows for a moment before opening it slightly.

There stood an African-American woman who looked to be in her early twenties with a suitcase in hand. What the fuck?

"Hi, uh, you may not know me but I'm actually an aspiring artist. I was, uh, reading some things online about you taking people in who want to pursue music and kind of... showing them the ropes and all? I was wondering if you could possibly do the same for me?", she inquired with a nervous smile.

Is this bitch crazy? You don't just show up to somebody's house with your entire apartment in your hand. What is wrong wit' her?

I released a faint laugh, smiling awkwardly, "That's a real nice story and all but I don't do that shit no more. I'm sorry."