HARDAWAY | trilogy

V3 - Chapter Seventeen.

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

               July. I steered the diamond leather covered wheel of my Dodge Durango down the road with the white thong sandal on my right foot pressing down on the gas pedal at the correct speed limit. Cold air blew out the vents to help with hot and humid air, while Beyoncé plays through the speakers. Sitting in the next seat to me in a floral print blouse and dark jeans with her natural hair braided was Memaw and behind her in a crisscross strap romper and heeled lace-up booties is Courtnee.

"How did you like the place, Mem– Maya?" Courtnee asked Memaw, quickly correcting herself.

As for the past few weeks, she had no recollection of us being her Granddaughter's. Only person she's acknowledged is Giovanni, which whom she believes is her daughter when she was younger, our mother Angie.

We just left from a memory care facility that Memaw could live from here on out. Lately her mood swings have been more frequently and out of control; a temper I couldn't tame anymore. Giovanni was the only one who could calm her down now since she has the features of our mother, but she's not always around and I refuse to have her putting her life on hold to care for her.

The location of the facility is in a great, trouble-free area.

"They have bingo..." I added, glancing over to her.

"Both of you are just worthless." She snarled, "Just worthless idiots that your mother done terrible raising. I don't know why my daughter always leave me with you two asinine pieces of shits! Take me to my daughter right now!"

"O-okay. . . we're almost there."

My eyelids blinked rapidly to prevent the tears from falling. Her words weren't the reason I tear up; I do because it's only clearer realization that she's not the Grandmother I know anymore and the disease is taking more of memory each and every day.

I turned into our neighborhood momentarily. As soon as I just barely pulled in the driveway, Memaw climbed out the vehicle and slamming the door behind her. Switching gears to park, I sighed, leaning back against the seat.

"Don't start letting that get to you, Mercedes." Courtnee voiced, "You know she ain't mean it."

"I know. . ." the Beyoncé vocals abruptly stopped when I turned the key and pulling it out of the ignition. With my crossbody bag, I step out my car along with Mercedes.

Closing the door behind me, my eyes landed on the female sitting on the couch and a look of confusion etched on my arched eyebrows. She's someone unfamiliar. Caramel brown skin and a ponytailed lace front, her false eyelashes blinked nervously as she looked at me. She looked about Giovanni's age with a light purple bruise circling her left eye and fingerprints on her neck had many questions in my mind. Top one being; who in the hell is this?

"Uhh, who is you?" Courtnee asked, taking the question out my mouth and pointing at the young woman.

"Oh. . . um, Yolanda. I'ma friend of Giovanni's."

"You a friend of— Giovanni!" Courtnee hollered.

Shortly after the call, Giovanni appeared from the hallway. She dressed comfortably in large tie-dye peach T-shirt and navy sweatpants with her hair in a bun and flip flops on her feet.