HARDAWAY | trilogy

V2 - Chapter Sixteen.

𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐙 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐒

               "Couldn't have the decency to tell me the townhouse finna foreclose?"

Flinging the envelope across the island counter in his kitchen, it stopped near the plate containing his breakfast as my father sat on the barstool not even flinching at the bass in my voice and continued to chew on his breakfast.

"You a man, ain't chu?"

"Three months behind, Pop. Are you kidding me?"

He finally locked his hazel hues with mine. "Whatchu want me to say LD? Yo' moms wasn't paying her mortgage. She wasn't as responsible as you thought, baby-boy. Ain't shit I can do."

"It is sumthin you can do; you fuckin' Profit. You got money and can help—"

"But I'm not." He interjected, "And you com' in here wit that bass in yo voice, tossin' shit, you gon' see."

"Pop—" I breathed out, "You not understanding me. This townhouse. . . it mean som' thing to me. It's all I got in memory of her, aight? It's the only place that smell like her. I don't cook in there cause I ain't tryna risk her scent not being around no more. I haven't walked in her room because I can't wrap my mind around my moms really gone. This townhouse special to me Pop. Don't be Profit right now. Be Rico; the father. See that yo' Son need this."

We held eye contact for a while and I don't know how to read him. I never know how to read him because he has this same expression — nothing.

"He's right." Turning our heads to the entrance of the massive kitchen, Camila stood there dressed in a tank top and sweatpants. She had removed her braids and wore her natural defined curls, "Bubba is right. The townhouse give us a sense of Mom being there and sometimes... I need to feel her too. Don't let it foreclose Daddy."

He released a heavy breather and leaned back in the chair. "Okay. . . Alright," he nodded, "I will keep the townhouse just to keep that feeling of your mother around. But, you move here."

My eyebrow arched in confusion, "Who? Can't be talking to me."

"Yes, you..." he pointed at me, "You coming to stay here and keep yo' sister company. Then I will keep the townhouse."

"What is this? A ultimatum?"

"I'm a father that want my son under this roof to make sho' he aight. Rico remember?" He winked at me and smirked.

"I do miss you," Camila chimed as she looked at me. "You know how to make Mommy's french toast like her. These cooks around here don't know how to make it and I don't eat breakfast. You hate when I don't eat breakfast."

"See — she misses you."

Groaning under my breath, I rubbed my temples. "Livin' here–"

"It would be a good thing," he interjected. "This mansion here for you too. I keep the townhouse in memory of yo' Moms for you comin' to stay here with ya old man and sister."

"Oh my fuck–" the door bell rung around the mansion.

"Get that for me Cam."