I slammed the door right after August left. I felt disgusting that I even would let a man like that near me...even worse...inside me. I felt sick to my stomach at the fact that we even did anything. I bet he was thinking of that plastic bitch the entire time. Everytime that I thought about him, it just made me even more mad.
Mijo came trudging down the stairs with his hood, shorts, and socks on, rubbing his eyes. That helped me calm down a little. Mijo just makes me smile. He plopped down on the couch and stretched.
"Who was yelling like that?" He asked, still half sleep.
"Me and...."
I didn't even know what to call him anymore. I just don't even want to speak on him. Mijo nudged me.
"You and who else? That nigga August?" Mijo said.
I reluctantly nodded. Mijo laughed a little. I mean mugged him and he died it down a little.
"What's so funny?" I scolded.
"I'm sorry, BoBo. But you know how he was from the start. Lil' nigga been making yo ass cry since Chris made me yo second daddy." He says.
"Barry, Chris made you my second daddy when I was six and you were like thirteen." I say.
Mijo nudged me again and I flopped over.
"What I tell you about using my government name?" He say.
I laugh. I love fucking with him about his government name. His Mama was drunk when her water broke, and she got this idea that she was dating the legendary football player, Barry Sanders. Long story short, Mijo is to never be called Barry by anyone. He even fought a dude because he called him Barry. The guy had a broken nose and two cracked ribs by the time Mijo was done with him, not even including the way Chris beat his ass after. I swear Mijo is a straight thug. But he says that I'm the only person he's been all lovey-dovey to, but only because I'm his "daughter". And I believe it.
Mijo and I shoved each other for little and broke out laughing. He always brightens up my mood. I swear I this guy could make the birds sing.
"Anyway, all I'm saying is, you don't need to have people like that around you right now, BoBo. You need to build yo house on soil, not sand. 'Specially when you have Chresanto and Bey's funeral and Breezy's court date coming up soon. You need all the positive shit you can get for that." Mijo said, with a serious tone.
I couldn't have heard anymore real words. He was right. August isn't stable. He's never been.
The earliest time I've he's ever made me cry was when I was about ten. It was my birthday and we were supposed to go play basketball. I waited for him for hours and hours, but he never showed. It was about ten at night, and I just gave up and started on my way home, but I ended getting jumped by a group of ninth graders. As I managed to limp back home, I passed by Tonisha Lanely, a girl from our school's house, and I saw them kissing in her bouncy house. I went home and cried so hard, I puked. I was so depressed, I started cutting my wrists. Chris had to tape gloves on me to get me to stop. But I never let a negative word about August come out my mouth.
My own best friend, my homie, my ride or die, wasn't any of those things. He didn't have my back like I had his. And that's true still to this day. But that's what I get for trying building my house on sand.
