Page 1 of The Prettiest Outlaw

My mother’sillness was unexpected. One day, she was fine. The next day, her body started giving out on her. Nah. The truth was that things hadn’t gone bad overnight. She just never told me that she was having health problems until she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer.

She was dealing with renal failure. She was in renal failure due to complications from unchecked diabetes. I didn’t understand it, because as far as I knew, she took care of herself. She worked out and monitored her diet. That was what she always told me. But according to her situation, that had all been a lie.

I wanted to call her out on it, too. I wanted to say the shit that she used to say to me and my little brother, Donovan, when we were growing up.

Her favorite thing to say was, “You can say you’re doing your homework, but the report card is gonna tell me the truth.”

In this case, renal failure told me the truth. I didn’t rub it in her face or give her a hard time about it, though. The truth of the matter was that I was too scared to play in her face. I wasn’t trying to lose anybody else, particularly my mother. She was the only parent I had that was worth a damn. She’d been the one to raise and pour into Donovan and me. She was the one who showed up for us, prayed for us, believed in us, encouraged us, and fought for us.

Our father, Briscoe “Coe” Hill, had been an absentee father. He was the father that we knew and could point out to people, but he very much stayed on the periphery of our lives… until and unless he needed something. So, Donovan and I didn’t have anybody, but Bianca Russo and each other. And she didn’t have anybody, but Donovan and me.

Both my brother and I were “affair” babies. My mother was one of Coe’s mistresses for years. Dude had a whole wife when he took up with my mother. She was a beautiful, young, and naïve church girl who had fallen for his pretty boy looks and his fake charm. When she became pregnant, the church turned their back on her. They couldn’t support a pretty, young thing who was willing to take up with somebody’s husband. The church women had husbands. What would stop her from running through the church, sleeping with husband after husband?

Soon, the embarrassment of the church’s response trickled down into her biological family. She was shunned, labeled the black sheep, and became an outcast. She didn’t let that bother her because she thought Coe loved her. She expected him to marry her and whisk her away from her current life. She found out just like anybody else who had intimate dealings with him. The only person Coe Hill truly loved… was Coe Hill.

She was coming out of her brownstone when I pulled up. I parked my Mustang. I always drove my Mustang when I took my mother to church because my other vehicles sat too high for her to climb in and out of comfortably.

I jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs to assist, not that Donovan needed my help. Our mother was a short woman at barely five feet tall, while Donovan was well over six feet tall. I jumped out to help because she was my mom, and I loved her.

I met them at the top of the stairs. Donovan was locking her door, while I bent to greet her with a kiss.

“Hey, Ma.”

She rested her hand on my face as she proffered her cheek to me for a second kiss.

“Good morning, son. As I told your brother here, this is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.”

I gave her a grin. “Amen.”

Donovan mumbled something that was basically unintelligible, but if I had to guess, it sounded like, “Fuck this day.”

He’d been mad at the world since he’d lost the love of his life to a tragic accident at their joint bachelorette and bachelor party. His fiancée, Nevaeh, had lingered in a coma for years before her parents decided to forego the extensive measures being taken to sustain her and removed her from life support.

It had been almost a year since she’d succumbed to her injuries, and Donovan was still in the same dark place he’d been when the accident first happened.

We helped our mother down the stairs with one of us holding each of her arms. Once we reached the bottom, I held the door of the car open while Donovan got her situated inside.

She kissed his cheek noisily before she spoke, “One of these days, my baby is gonna join us at church, Nico.”

I cut my eyes at Donovan.

“Don’t hold your breath, Ma. I ain’t really messing with Big Sandals right now. If that ever changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I’m praying that you’ll soften your heart, baby. Missing Nevaeh’s presence on this side is a real thing, but God’s grace is sufficient. If you let Him, He’ll be a comforter and a keeper for you.”

“Well, right now, that nigga is the grim reaper for me. So, respectfully, fuck him.”

“Donovan!”

“Later, Bro,” I called out before he closed my car door with a resounding thud.

I shook my head at his back because he knew that was one of the easiest ways to get Ma in her bag. Now, I was going to have to listen to her go on and on about how blasphemous it was for him to say that… and on a Sunday, the Lord’s day, no less.

My mother turned her gaze on me. “I’m praying for your brother. He can’t stay where he’s at. I understand grief and mourning, but what he’s doing isn’t healthy.”

“It wasn’t healthy when she was alive in that coma. Donovan hasn’t been operating in a healthy manner since Nevaeh’s accident.”

“You’re right.” She nodded her head in agreement. “I tried to give him space and not speak too much on his situation. I mean, I don’t know what it’s like to watch the love of your life linger in a coma for years. I wanted to be respectful and supportive. I don’t mean to compare your situations?—”

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