Mr. Graham

Chapter Sixty Three

Kamaria

I woke up the next morning with the sudden urge to puke. What the hell?

I get up and run to the bathroom. I thought all my intestinal track was gonna come out my mouth. I kneel over the toilet and feel myself gagging...but nothing came out.

"Am I paranoid," I mumble to myself. I tried to remember what I might've ate yesterday. But I didn't even eat last night. I just fell asleep. I don't even remember getting in the bed.

I get up from the floor and brush my teeth. Then I realize that if I fell asleep last night—

"Aubrey," I go to the bedroom but he isn't in bed.

"I'm in the kitchen."

I go into the kitchen only to see him making breakfast. This man really didn't believe that I forgave him.

"Where is Phoenix?"

"Darius got her last night when you were sleeping. Don't worry she was in good hands," he says.

I barely remembered the events of last night. I was just really tired. The last thing I remember was Aubrey trying to talk to me about Canada.

"Oh okay," I scratch my head.

He puts his spatula down and looks at me for a few seconds. "Come here."

"It's okay Aubrey—," I shake my head and he laughs.

"No come here," he puts out his hand. I come over to where he is and hug him for what feels like eternity.

"Hi," he smiles.

"Hey."

"You doing alright?"

"Hanging in there. How about you?"

"You're here...that's all that matters. And I'm sorry for Canada. I wanted it to be the exact opposite. I wanted to—," he stops himself. "I just wanted to make better memories."

"I understand...and we could've."

"Kinda blew that opportunity away," he chuckles.

"No you didn't. We can always do that," I tell him.

I let go of him and he takes the food he made and brings it to the outside balcony. "Let's go eat breakfast outside?"

I follow him. It was really nice outside. And I was really hungry.

"So...are you still not willing to speak about your...dad?"

"You're so romantic you know that," he laughs. "No I am. I think I've wanted to. I just get really pissed when I think about him," he clenched his fist.

"Relax," I hold his hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. My dad is just...a piece of shit to put it lightly. Him and my mom got divorced when I was young and he dipped. But when they were married he treated my mom and I like shit. He was just abusive and I didn't know why," he said.

"Is that why you didn't go back to Canada."

He nods. "It reminds me of him. And I love my mother but...when he'd come at me she never defended me. I felt like she wanted to pick him over me. I know I shouldn't have felt that way but I did."

"Did you tell her that?"

"She knew I think and felt bad. Her alcoholism was one issue in its own. But my dad? Nah...Which is why she didn't wanna tell me she was seeing him when we came."

"Well did you guys...talk?"

He nods. "After I read your letter...I went to talk to her about her illness. I wanted her to come here but...as much as I hate him...she's an adult and happy with him. So I'll just be visiting more and supporting her to the best of my ability," he says. He looks at me. "Why are you crying?"