Another Man's Treasure (Joey Bada$$ Story)

Part Quattro

I tried not to worry. At least not too much. I tried to occupy myself with things that would keep my mind off the things that it should be on. Doing anything else felt like it would kill me.

I put another two newspapers in the fireplace every hour. Latara and I played all the games that I usually couldn’t be bothered playing with her; I dressed up as every character, looked in every nook and cranny during hide-and-seek, and even did karaoke for three hours straight. Then she got tired. So I called Abby and spoke to her for an hour; the conversation wasn’t of much substance, just clothes and makeup and boys. High school things.

At one point, though, I ran out of things to do. Nothing I tried could get my mind off the letter I received, or the fact that Edwin still wasn’t here. Still. So instead, I surrendered. I went into my bedroom, on his side of the bed, and dove my head into his pillow. I hadn’t washed it since he left, so it still smelled very much like him. I liked that. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that my head was on his chest. I could feel it vividly.

Of course, my eyes can’t stay closed forever.

At two o'clock, I fell asleep. Edwin’s scent kind of had a lullaby effect to it. Plus, my eyes were already closed to imagine him holding me like he used to. It was a matter of time before I began actually dreaming about it. So I took my nap until three, dreaming of happy times with Edwin, and woke up to Latara’s cries.

I didn’t mind her crying, surprisingly. Changing her diaper, burping her, feeding her - it was all something to do, to occupy my mind with. I was almost completely distracted from Edwin as I got Tara into a simple outfit and pushed her stroller out the door. Almost, because his aroma still lingered on my cheeks, on my neck, just beneath my nose. Everywhere. It hurt.

I smiled at the people who waved to Latara in her stroller. She did too. We went into the city, near Abigail’s house and even beyond, just soaking in the sights.

“Hey, Spike.” Abby said. Spike. As in Spike Lee. Genius.

“Hello, Abigail. What’s up?”

“What’s up is that you need to get out of the house. I could bet a million dollars that you forgot about the concert tonight. Well I didn’t, and you need to come over to help me with wardrobe. Bring a few outfits.”

“Wait, what? What concert? That’s tonight?”

“Pro Era’s concert! Yes it’s tonight! Gosh Jamie, sometimes I feel like I’m dealing with an amnesia victim. Just bring some clothes and be at my house in a few hours. Call me when you’re coming.”

“Alright. Keep your phone close.”

She hung up. I sighed and went back to embracing Edwin’s pillow. Half of me was frustrated with myself that I’d really rather be here moping than to be out having fun, but the other half actually did want to have fun.

So I did it. I got out of bed, tearing myself away from the comfort of an Edwin that wasn’t really there, and left the house with Latara. I wasn’t going to wear anything special so I didn’t need to leave time to get dressed. I had hours to burn; might as well take a walk.

I got Latara dressed, secured her in her stroller and left. The sun was bright. It always was. It was getting kind of old.

The same cycle went on, with strangers constantly staring at Tara as we strolled. Bringing her outside was a chore these days. Or maybe it had always been. It would be so much easier to just be able to throw on some sweats and leave the house when I wanted without a major responsibility to think about.

Maybe you weren’t ready for a such a big responsibility.

The stroller suddenly bumps into a crack in the sidewalk and Latara whines, just for a bit, before deciding that it wasn’t worth crying over. We continue on. I keep having thoughts, life-reflection thoughts, but I zone them out. I don’t know what I’m thinking. It’s not me that’s developing the thoughts anyway; it’s something inside of me that I’m almost completely sure will never, ever leave me, and it’s called The Jamie That Worries.