The Drug Dealer's Wife.

#30 - November 18th

3 months later

I haven't been back to the gravesite since the Harding family buried Bryson, and I felt wobbly standing here by my lonesome. I was going to ask Samuels to accompany me, but I thought better of it. This was something I had to do by myself. I had to face reality in order to move on.

The past months have been weary. There was some good days, some bad. But I was getting through it, somehow. I've never experienced a death so close to me before, and it felt so unbelievably weird. Going to therapy was now one of my favorite things to do, for it allowed me to fully express everything I've been feeling. I've grown and learnt so much about myself from the sessions, and I was ever so grateful for Divine introducing me to Dr. Roberts.

I sighed heavily, dropping the roses I brought for Bryson next to his tombstone. I felt tears approaching but quickly blinked them away. The pain doesn't really go away though, huh? I felt myself slowly moving past everything that happened, yet something kept holding me back. Hmm, guess I got something else to talk to Dr. Roberts about.

"I should have known yo deceitful ass was gonna show up."

I shook my head as I felt footsteps coming closer to me. I knew Mac McClean's voice from a mile away, and it was clear that he still held a lot of resentment towards me. This asshole basically tried to blame me for Bryson's death, acting like I was a snake in the grass who betrayed Bryson. I knew better, but sometimes when someone repeatedly tells you something negative, you start to question it....at least a little of it.

"It is Bryson's birthday after all." I responded when Mac was a few feet away from me. "What else did you expect?"

"I expected him to still be alive and well." Mac snapped back. "November 18th was when a real king was born. Rocky was the don, the motherfucking best to do it, a real soldier. We would be out celebrating right now, thanking God for another year. I remembered last year we were poppin' bottles in the club, reuniting with old friends we used to trap with. We were just simply living life to the fullest. Too bad you took that from me."

I turned aggravatedly to look this piece of shit in the face. No, no, hell no. There was no way I was going to stand by and allow him to blatantly disrespect me. I saw the pain in Mac's eyes. He was without a doubt hurt and full of despair. I knew he felt like his best friend was ripped away from him. Shit, I felt like that too. But chastising and mentally bullying me wasn't going to bring Bryson back. And as Bryson's wife he should know better than to try me like this. If my husband was still alive, Mac would have gotten checked.

"I didn't take anything from you, and you know it." I said to Mac. "If Bryson was here right now, you wouldn't even utter that shit so I'm not even going to take you on. We're both hurt, McClean. Bryson was the realest man to ever step into our lives, and he left this earth way sooner than he was supposed to. We need to accept it and try to move on. Now you can either stay here with me and help me commemorate his life, or you can get your ass on. Whatever you decide I'll be fine with. You were just one of his flunkies anyways, you should be happy you even got to breathe the same air he did."

Mac McClean looked at me with a side eye. I could tell he was surprised that I had the balls to stand up to him like this. After Bryson's death, I was at my weakest points. I felt and looked feeble. And Mac thought he could take advantage of that and taunt me. But not anymore. Nova was standing on all ten toes. And it felt damn good.

"A wife is supposed to hold her man down. Shit, what's the point of having the title if you can't even do the motherfucking job right? You failed at that, miserably. Rocky did what he had to do to get to his bag and that left you up in arms. Childish. I knew you weren't worthy." Mac McClean spat. "But for the sake of the big dawg's birthday, I'll put aside my thoughts. He saw something in you that I clearly can't."

I rolled my eyes at the jabs Mac spewed but chose to ignore it. I knew what I did for that man, and no one could ever tell me different. Turning back to Bryson's tombstone, I sighed heavily. Bryson Harding would have been 28 today. I knew he had big plans for his upcoming birthday and it just hurts my heart that he didn't accomplish it.

"Did you even love him?" Mac asked softly. "He's dead now, you can tell the truth."

I glanced over at Mac, who was sitting on the ground staring into space. I didn't detect any hostility or ignorance in his tone, so maybe all of his aggression towards me was moving away slowly. I walked over to sit besides him, and for a moment we just sat there taking in the cold air.

"I loved him more than anything." I answered Mac. "He was the best man to ever walk into my life. I learned so much from him, and I can honestly say he helped me become a better woman. So despite the downs that we went through, I wouldn't trade those times for nothing. Bryson was everything to me."

Mac nodded, and he seemed like he understood where I was coming from. McClean retrieved a blunt and lighter from his side pocket, and after four puffs he passed the blunt over to me. Normally I wouldn't, but it was for Bryson, so why not.

"Rocky was my superhero." Mac admitted. "He taught all the young bulls growing up in the hood to be more than the stereotype, even if we had to use the cliché to get where we needed to be. He constantly pushed progress and growth, and that was real taboo where we grew up. He was just so original, a true trendsetter. He had youngins' wanting to finish school and shit, and be better. He didn't give a fuck how society viewed him, and his unapologetic demeanor was an inspiration to all. Yeah, being a drug dealer was something that was severely looked down on, but Rocky was just dealing the cards he was dealt. And he surpassed all expectations. His legacy will continue, I'll make sure of it."

I watched the smoke that was released from my nostrils disappear into the air. Mac was talking that real shit. No man could ever do it like how Bryson did. He was more than average. Bryson Harding was truly a once in a lifetime man. And his greatness needed to be shouted from the rooftops.

"We'll make sure of it." I told Mac.

McClean nodded agreeably, and for the next hour or so we simply sat there quietly until the cold air was unbearable. When Mac walked me back to my car, I glanced back at Bryson's tombstone once more and smiled softly. My husband was a phenomenal man, and his profession should never limit who he was as a person. He was more than just a drug dealer, and I vowed from that moment onward to walk with pride and confidence when it came to Bryson, carrying on the Harding name with the upmost respect. Bryson's name would go down in history as one of the greats. I wasn't tolerating anything less. Happy Birthday Mr. Harding. May you forever rest in peace my love.