Sapphire Speaks (complete)

Chapter 3

As was his routine, Crash awakened with the sun. It had always been like that. At least, that's what his mother had told him before she stopped speaking to him.
"You were a good baby. So quiet. Never had your days and nights mixed up, nope Seemed like you were calmest at night, but when the day broke, your eyes popped open. It was like clockwork. Magic."
Crash shook her voice from his head and swung his legs off of the bed. He reveled in the coolness of the floor against his feet as he stretched. He reached for his watch and placed it around his wrist before standing.
He walked to the huge bay window and snatched the curtains open. He couldn't contain the grin that spread across his face as he bathed in the rays of the sunlight. He closed his eyes and took two steps backward and sat down on the pillow that was there. He loved his altar. It was the only thing that truly brought him peace and made him feel connected to the past, present, and future. He lit the sacred candles and closed his eyes as the flames danced before his eyes.
He communed with the ancestors, spoke positivity into his life and asked for favor and protection before he ended his session. He walked into his bathroom and handled his daily hygiene. Once he was finished, he walked into his small kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water out of his refrigerator and walked out the backdoor to his backyard. The screen door closed with a dull thud.
He opened the water bottle and poured some out before downing the rest. He looked around the yard and found the spot where the light hit just right and walked to it. It was there he began to stretch and perform his daily exercise regimen: stretch, yoga, body weight exercises, and then a two mile run to finish up. An hour later, he stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed and ready to start his day. He checked the clock that hung on his wall. It was barely eight A.M. He was making good time. He dressed quickly, deciding to wear a plain black t-shirt and black sweat pants. As was his preference, he slid his feet into his Nike slides and let his mind wander before deciding to check and see if the young brother had decided to use the card.
Brandon's entire body was wracked with pain as he tossed and turned in the bed. He struggled to breathe. The sheets were drenched in sweat and clung to his skin causing him to shiver which only added to his tremors. He grunted and clenched his teeth trying to will his body still and the pain away.
It didn't work.
He regretted the day he'd first stuck the needle in vein and continued to chase the euphoria that it'd caused. He screamed in desperation as the pain grew. His body jerked and he flung himself to the floor. His fingers clawed at the hardwood floor and he took the chance to unwrap the sheet from his body. He scratched at imaginary ailings and pulled himself to his knees.
Crash opened the door to the small apartment and a bolt of electricity sent him reeling into the wall behind him. He shook it off and approached the door slowly, carefully, body and mind on full alert as he peered inside, but didn't cross the threshold. He watched as the young brother writhed in pain. His muscles so taut that Crash half expected his bones to break from the strain.
Brandon pulled at his hair and screamed again. He pounded his temples with closed fists as hot tears ran down his eyes. He hated this. He hated the high. He loved the high. "I'm better than this," he screamed. His voice full of emotion.
"I'm stronger than this!" He repeated the words he'd heard in one of his many NA meetings. At that time, they'd been court mandated and had fallen on open ears, but a closed mind. However, now he felt more clear headed than he had in years.
"I can beat this," he whispered to himself. "This pain is only weakness leaving the body. It's nothing. Small thing to a giant. I'm better than this. I got this. I got me."
Crash couldn't hear the young brother, but he knew that he was talking because his lips were moving. As he spoke, Brandon began to rise from the floor. A blue aura surrounding him. It was darker than the one from last night Crash noticed. Everytime the young brother spoke, the aura glowed brighter and brighter until Crash had to shield his eyes from the light.
Brandon's chest heaved with each breath he took. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked around. He counted his standing among his few victories. He didn't know where he was. His mind was unfocused and unclear as he tried to remember. He ignored his body calling for heroin. Begging for it. A draft caught his attention. It chilled his already cold body. He turned toward it. He saw a large, black man standing in the doorway...starting at him. He looked intrigued. Brandon quickly went on the defensive. He squared up and puffed out his chest as much as he could because he was still trembling.
"Relax, Young Brother," the man said. His voice seemed familiar. It was the man from last night. The one that had given him the money and the card. Brandon relaxed a little bit. Life had taught him that no one does something from nothing. The man, Crash, he'd said his name was, wanted something. He had to.
"You said I could stay here," Brandon tossed at him as he looked around for his clothes.
"I did," Crash said. "I was just coming to see if you had actually stayed."
Brandon eyed his shirt. His dirty shirt. His dirty jeans. He looked over at Crash and felt inferior. This man was clean, seemed to have his life together, and had an apartment to spare. He shook his head. "I'm getting ready to go," he gathered his clothes and was getting ready to put them on when Crash yelled from the doorway.
"Don't do that!" Crash didn't like the stench coming from the clothes, not the earthly stench, but the spiritual one.
Brandon jumped and his eyes bucked. He remembered the look the man had given him last night. He was prepared to fight for his manhood. "I done told you-"
Crash cut him off. "The bathroom is in the back. In the cabinet are some brand new clothes and shoes. You should be able to fit them. I'll wait in the hallway until you're done." He backed up and sat back on his hunches to prove his point.
Brandon nodded.
Thirty minutes later, Brandon was clean and dressed. He'd placed his clothes in a garbage bag he'd found. His stomach growled and he scratched at his arm as he walked back toward the front of the apartment. He found Crash in the same position he'd left him in. Only this time his eyes were closed and his entire body was relaxed even though he was still on his hunches.
"I'm done," Brandon called out.
Crash rose slowly in one fluid motion, his eyes still closed until he was balanced on his two feet. "He looked inside of the apartment at Brandon. He looked better. It was amazing what a shower could do to a person.
Brandon help up the bag. "What do you want me to do with this?"
"Toss it out the window," Crash said bluntly.
Brandon didn't ask any questions. He just did as he was told. "Are you going to come in?" He went about picking up around his sleeping area.
"Not yet," Crash told him. "Open all of the windows."
Brandon made the bed quickly before doing what Crash told him. With every window he opened, he felt stronger, more clear headed.
"Now what?"
Crash pointed to a small end table next to the bed. "In the drawer, there's some sage and a lighter. Light it. Walk through the house with it. Think about who you want to be. Who you truly are while you go through the house. Who YOU know YOU to be," Crash repeated with emphasis.
Brandon thought Crash was beyond weird, but he was grateful, so he did as he was told. As he went through the house, he thought about what he wanted for his life: a family, a wife, kids. He was a strong man. An intelligent man. A man who could make you laugh and smile. A man who could motivate as well as call you out on your shit. A man who was headed toward a promising political career...before...no, he was still headed there.
As he walked, he felt himself grow stronger, he felt the cobwebs fall out of his head. He felt the fog lift from his mind. He stopped thinking it, but started saying it as he continued throughout the apartment. He didn't know how long he walked. All he knew was that the sage was nearly gone by the time he returned to stand before Crash.
Crash nodded. He could see that the young brother's shoulders weren't as stooped and his head was lifted a little bit higher. There was even a small glow to his still ashen skin. "Invite me in," Crash said.
"Ain't this your house?" Brandon asked. When Crash didn't answer, he invited him in. "Come in."
Crash walked in. The room crackled with electricity. He looked around.
"I didn't break anything," Brandon rushed out. "I ain't take nothing either."
"I didn't say you did."
Brandon scratched at his arm.
Crash noticed the track marks that scarred the young brother's body. He shook his head sadly. "You hungry?" He asked. He knew that Brandon had been expecting him to question him about the track marks.
Brandon was taken aback. "Yeah. I mean, yes. Why you doing all this? What you want from me?"
"I want you to eat right now," Crash responded. "Let's go." He turned and walked out of the room apartment before Brandon could speak.
They walked in silence among the city streets. Brandon took notice of how Crash purposefully avoided touching people. He would turn his body harshly or stop walking all together to avoid contact. Brandon scratched at his arms again as he ignored the calls for heroin. They walked into a juice bar.
Crash looked around. He found the booth that would allow them the most sunlight. He wished they had outdoor seating, but this seating would do. He enjoyed the shop. It was second to his own juicing. He wasn't sure he wanted to invite Brandon into his house yet so the juice bar was the next best choice.
"I ain't never been here before," Brandon admitted as he looked around. A lot of black people were there. They looked around his age. They sat in groups with bookbags and totes slung over the backs of their chairs. Some engaged in conversations. Others pecked away at the keys on their computer keyboard. Others had headphones in and where scrolling through the smartphones in their hands. A sudden wave of sadness overcame him. The man in the back, with the dad hat on with a graphic tee on and cut off jeans who was in mid laugh could have been him. Should have been him. His sadness transformed into anger and he pounded the table with his fist. The noise attracted the attention of the patrons closer to them.
Crash beguiled the worried patrons with a small smile. "It's a good spot for juice. Black owned," he told Brandon. He looked at the young brother's balled fist. "You got a lot of anger in you."
Brandon shrugged. "That's life." He didn't feel like telling a stranger his life story. "What's good? All they got is juice?" He asked as he picked up the menu. He noticed sandwiches and fruit on the menu as well.
The server walked over. She smiled at Crash. "Welcome back. You want your regular?"
Crash greeted her. "Peace, Queen. No, not this morning. Let me get the rejuvenator. Extra large."
The server's smile grew as she took his order. She knew a lot of men used that 'queen' mess to get women, but it just seemed as if it were part of Crash's dialect. It was second nature to him. She turned to Brandon who was still looking over the menu. She assessed him quickly. She decided that he would be cute enough with a haircut. Then she noticed the track marks. She frowned.
Brandon looked up just as the server frowned. He dropped the menu and folded his arms self consciously.
Crash narrowed his eyes at the server. She had the good sense to apologize. "I'm sorry. What can I get you?"
Brandon shrugged. His mood had soured that quick. But then again, he only had himself to blame. No one had forced the needle into his vein. That had been all him. He deserved her judgement. Suddenly the bulb swinging above them blew out.  The server yelped in surprise and jumped away from the sparks.
"Try the healer," Crash recommended. He ignored the bulb. He looked up at the server, Yonna. "This is my little brother, Brandon."
Yonna nodded. "Hey, Brandon. Would you like to try the healer?"
Brandon looked up. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Let me get the healer and a uh-" he trailed off not knowing how much he could order.
"Get whatever," Crash told him as he turned his head and dipped it into the sunlight.
"A sandwich. You can bring me your favorite one," Brandon said with a small smile.
Yonna couldn't help herself. She smiled back. "I'll be right back."
Brandon watched her as she sauntered off with a little more umph than she had walked over with.
Brandon turned to Crash. "Thanks. I don't know how to pay you back, but I'm really grateful." His neck jerked involuntarily.
"How long you been clean?" Crash asked bluntly.
Brandon laughed. "About twelve hours."
Crash nodded. "What's the longest you've gone?"
"Three weeks. I was in court mandated rehab."
"Drug of choice?"
"Heroin."
Crash nodded knowingly. "How long?"
"Since I was nineteen. So, six years."
"That's a rough horse to ride. A stallion," Crash said as he tapped his fingers on the table.
"You rode it?" Brandon sounded hopeful.
"No. Just seen the riders."
"Oh." He was disappointed. He'd thought if maybe Crash was in recovery that he could use him as an unofficial sponsor. Someone to motivate him to stay clean.
"Don't get down on yourself. You are what you think. You manifest yourself."
Brandon frowned. "You one of those 'woke' niggas? I heard you call her Queen."
"Naw, I'm just Crash. I wake up every morning. I'm just telling you words have power. You gotta watch what you think and say."
"Whatever," Brandon mumbled.
"See how your body slumped down when you said that? You already resigned yourself to defeat. You rode that horse because you were scared to tell yourself to get off."