Page 69 of Falling Into Gravity

They stood in the silence after that, both knowing what was behind the words. Blood, history, and hurt that never really scabbed right. Shattered hearts and a little girl without a Daddy and a Mama that didn’t think she was good enough to leave the hood and really give her kid a fighting chance outside of the hood. Government assistance kept Quesha stagnant and that one night full of bruised egos and a lover’s quarrel left him stuck too.

The sound of Pharaoh’s wheelchair rolling down the hall broke the moment. He peeked in, slurred voice barely audible but smiling anyway. “Malik…”

“What’s up, cuh,” Malik said, swallowing his pain.

“I—I wanna watch Friday. The one with the ice cube.”

Malik smiled, a real one this time. “Say less, cuh...I got you.”

Pharaoh wheeled himself back, satisfied.

Malik’s eyes shot to Quesha. “I got the bills, I always do. Get him situated and put that movie on for him.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He tugged her arm. “I got Bren with the school shit too. Don’t worry. I got y’all like I always do.”

“For how long though ‘cause I heard you with a bougie bitch now?”

Pushing his tongue into his cheek, he swallowed all the vile shit he wanted to say. “You got too much other shit to worry about, Que.”

Quesha walked to the sink, turned on the water. “I ain’t your charity,” she said low. “But I ain’t too proud to ask when it’s for my daughter.”

“You ain’t never been my charity, Que,” he said, grabbing his keys. “You just part of the damage.”

He left after a brief conversation with Pharaoh.

And as he passed through the blue-lit streets again, past the same walls he’d bled for, Malik couldn’t stop the image of Aku from floating back into his head. The way she looked at the party - all joy and twerk and gold jewelry. The way she looked at him as she rode his dick taking every piece of him—the dirty shit he didn’t want to get on her. The way she didn’t bring up the shooting or ask too many questions.

She didn’t know it, but he needed her that day. Not to fix him, just to remind him he still had light in him somewhere.

Maybe she did know. She got him out there when he didn’t want too…gave him her body too when he was probably the least deserving nigga in the world. The lives he took, the blood he shed, the tears he caused Black Mamas? How was something so perfect laid in his hands after all that?

He smiled, windows down, Nip talking to him through music.

Aku laid it all in his hands. Now, it was time for him to take them the rest of the way.

Malik sat on the edge of his bed, just thinking. Light from the streetlamp spilled through the curtain, cutting across his roomlike a crooked scar. His hand gripped the orange pill bottle so tight the label was starting to peel.

He turned it over in his palm, thumb grazing the childproof cap.

He didn’t take one. His chest felt heavy, and his head was loud. Aku’s voice played on a loop. He grabbed his phone to see if he missed a notification. Still no text from Aku.

He knew she was probably mad at him for dipping without saying anything, but he had to work and needed to think. They were moving so fast his head was spinning.

He hadn’t meant to ghost her like that.

He left a note on her bathroom mirror. Folded paper with ink smudged from his wet fingertips.“You deserve rest. I needed air. -M.”

Didn’t mean shit though if she ain’t read it.

And knowing Aku? She probably read it and rolled her eyes so hard they hit the ceiling.

He sighed, rubbing his face raw with both palms, then tossed the pill bottle across the bed. It bounced before landing softly next to a hoodie he wore the other day. Looking around his room, he started cleaning up. It was time for a fresh start, starting with getting his space clean. Malik played some music and got to it, rapping along to Lil Baby. The music wasn’t too loud even though his people never really tripped.

The music paused when a call came through.

His phone lit up on the dresser. It was Zaire.

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