Portray

T.M.I. 🤫

Tray eyes the brown & golden bricked buildings as the van pulls out of the lot. He takes in a mental photograph of it all.  Noting it to be a place to never become his home again. The van moves into the flow of traffic. Eventually they merge on east I-96 expressway.

"Dang, feel like my entire stomach turning inside out," Joey rubs his belly in exaggeration. "that sign said a McDonald's is coming up in the next exit." he points at the sign just before they pass it.

"That's right," Trish says, switching lanes to the far right to make the exit, "I promised baby girl chicken nuggets after we got you."

They soon pull into the drive-thru lane--at least the line wrapping halfway around the restaurant. Trish sighs from the mental preparation to wait. Tray on the other hand didn't sweat it. Waiting. What a newly released inmate mentally fixed his mind to doing on a regular basis. While they wait, he steps outside the van to use Trish's cellphone. Seeing that it was nine-fifty in the morning, he dreads the fact that it was a bit early for anyone to pick up. His first call was to his baby mama, Wanda. The call went to voicemail after a few rings.

In a way, he finds relief in not having to hear her condescending tone early in the day. His next call; his aunt, Vanita, who he was expecting to live with for a few months. The call went the same way as the last one . Short of reliable sources, he attempts to reach a childhood friend. Unfortunately to no avail. Perhaps his number changed after all these years, Tray reasons.

Back inside the van, the line moved up a bit in the meantime, three more cars now..

"Any luck?" Trish asks with genuine concern.

With a shrug of the shoulders, he conveys the calls were unsuccessful.

"Good looking out though'." he said, handing back the cell phone.

She looks back with an encouraging smile, "Well, it is early and some people still sleeping at this time. ." her tone innocent and sweet.

"Yo babe, you bring some tree?" her man asks.

"Uh, yeah. . . check the glove compartment."

His hand rakes through the compartment. The noise from papers rustling together escapes the small glove box.

"Hey! Don't junk up the papers," Trish advises, "you know I hate  searching for the registration n' crap."

"Sure, it's in here?" Ion see it." he was growing slightly impatient from the built-up anticipation.

"Why don't you let me-

"Here, got it!" Joey cuts her off, cracking a giant grin with a display of yellow, decaying teeth.

"That's what I'm talking about, baby, got it pre-rolled n' shit!" he was ecstatic.

"You know I got my man!" Trish places her hand underneath Joey's chin then turning his face towards hers.

The child watching her parents' smooch, starts kicking and shaking her stubby joints out of excitement.

"Gahh!" she cries out.

A cringe-filled feeling rushes over Tray. To distract himself, he gazes out of the window at people rushing to their cars to escape the cold . And staff members flustered with the amount of traffic lining up.

A  vibrating sensation near his leg snatches his attention. At first he mistakes it for the lil' girl placing one of her toys against his thigh. He  realizes it was his old cellphone. It flashes alive after connecting it to a charger found on the floor of the van! He scrolls through the device as they were doing their own thing. He scans through old messages and apps that were long forgotten about. He opens the MP3 Player and fishes through his catalog of music.