Urban - Four individuals going through different aspects of life. Each going through their own struggles surrounding Lyrewood - HARDAWAY.
VOLUME ONE - Carmen Richardson. Kylan Burgess. Aalea Jimenez. Marshay Hayes.
VOLUME TWO - Asia Jimenez. Sharif...
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Reno Correctional Center — two hours out of the way of Lyrewood. Two hours where my father has been incarcerated for the pass nine years of my life. Nine-years-old was the last time I seen my father physically. My mother refused to drive two hours out the way to see a man who broke her heart and left her to raise to son's alone; as well as other issue they had in their marriage that I completely blocked out and that I've resented him for. Sitting in the parking area of this place, had me ignoring the recent text from my Girl.
Every since my aunt confirmed, but not elaborated, that my father was dying I've been blocking out everyone for a week; mainly Aalea. I shouldn't be, but I am. Gathering my thoughts I left my phone behind as I stepped out of my vehicle, and walked towards the federal center. Patted down and searched, correctional officers made sure I had nothing on me before I joined the other inmate family members in the visiting area with round, iron tables and chairs.
One near the window, I took a seat and waited patiently for the man that impregnated my mother. My hands rubbed down my face just as a loud buzzing sound alerted me and everyone else around. Sighing deeply and rubbing my hands together, I watched the inmates emerge from the corridor and to their family's, who embraced them with love. Then, there he walked — Roberto "Poncho" Costello; my sperm donor, a Cuban American originally from Liberty City, Miami, Florida.
He looked the same. Nine years and he rarely aged. Tall and well-built, and honey brown skin. But, his hair had grown. Curly and long passed his shoulders, a few grey strands, he had it in a ponytail. And the beard; a new look masked on his face.
He spotted me quickly. Corners of his lips turned up into a smile and walked over to me — he looked healthy to me. No limp, no pale look. If this was a ploy to get me all the way out here — "Mijo! No love? Hug? Nothin?"
"You look perfectly healthy to me." Beating around the bush; not my thing especially when it come to him.
He breathed deeply and smiled as he sat down. "Malai told you?"
"Yeah. . . but seem like she lied."
"She ain't lie. I am sick."
"With what? A cold?"
He laughed at the response, "no; notta cold. A...uh, tumor found in my brain."
"Tumor — in your brain?"
He nodded, "yeah; found it out a few months back."
"Sound like karma to me," I responded and shrugged. "Guess the good man above punishin' you for all the heads you blew off or knocked in. One. . . being your my mother."
He chuckled lightly, "I deserved that. I loved your mother — still do."
I scoffed, "yeah aight, man. Ion' really know why you wanted to see me. You calling me and talking to my aunt bout me not answering; I clearly just don't want that relationship with you. Jaheim could use it; if he want it. But I don't want it, Poncho. Ion' feel sorry bout yo tumor cause it's yo' karma. You left yo' son's wit a woman who searching for sumthin in every man and now fuckin' woman she come across. Yearnin' for whatever she felt wit you. Don't try to want dis relationship cause you dyin. It ain't genuine."
