Page 15 of The Heart Of A Real Woman
She reached up and touched my face. “Good, because I don’t care what your world looks like. I don’t care if our lives are different. I still want you just as much as I wanted you before I knew all of this.”
I pressed my forehead against hers, heart heavier than a muthafucka.
“You going off to college soon. One of them niggas there can make you so happy. They don’t come with the bullshit I come with. I’m real enough to admit… you could do so much better than me.”
“No,” she shook her head, staring me in the eyes. “It doesn’t get no better than you, Moses. It’s you for me, and I don’t want another. You the only nigga that makes me happy.”
“You sho, baby?”
“Positive,”
“Then you mine.”
Chapter Seven.
Moses
Ever since we made shit official, we were spending even more time together. To the point, Mary’s ass skipped a few classes here and there just to be with me. I fussed at her about it, but I still came through to scoop her. Even she needed a getaway from her world at times. Her father often put a lot of pressure on her.
Besides, I wanted to spend as much time as I could with her too. She claimed I made her happy. But she made me happier. She filled me with peace…a peace I had been searching for all my life.
Today, when she skipped, I spent the few extra dollars I had on gas and took her to the beach. Inside her backpack, she had two towels and snacks she’d snuck out of the house. We sat in the sand chillin’, soaking in the view of the sky and the crystal blue water while music played from my phone. It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. When I was with her, nothing else mattered.
“I like this song. The beat is nice. Who is that?” Mary asked.
“One of my niggas. He’s dope, right?”
“He is,” she nodded, bobbing her head. “A true lyricist.”
“Facts. He’s gonna go places, fasho. Just gotta get his music in the right hands.”
“It’s so hard to get discovered, though. It’s like you have to know someone, especially where we are from.”
I nodded in agreement, my plans swirling in my mind. “It’s cool. I’ma start a record label one day and put my nigga on.”
Mary raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking hard about it. I love music. It’s gotten me through some of my darkest times. I’ve been figuring out how to dive into it without being an artist, and I thought I could start my own record label. There’s so much talent in the ‘Rose. I just gotta get my money up to make it happen, so they can be given a chance, you feel me?”
“Yeah. I love that idea. You’ll make it happen.”
“You think so? Or you just hyping me up ‘cause you love me?”
She laughed as I leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“No, I know so. You don’t give yourself enough credit because you have dyslexia. But look at you. You’re nineteen, out here alone, making it despite all the odds. You just told me a few weeks ago you were staying in a motel, and now you’re almost ready to get your place. That’s major growth in a short time.”
“I hear you, and I appreciate your words, Shorty.”
“Always,” she said, bumping her fist with mine. “You got an old soul, Moses Mikaelson.”
I chuckled. “Where that come from?”
She laughed too, shrugging. “People say that to me all the time…tell me that I’m so mature for my age. But you’re on a whole other level. You be thinking about stuff I don’t.”
“When you grow up the way I did, you ain’t got a choice. It’s either you swim or drown. I've been drowning long enough. I gotta get it.”
We grew serious, silence wrapping around us. My words stung. I felt the ache deep, and Mary’s eyes showed she felt it too. For a while, we just listened to the waves crashing on the shore while she traced the scars on my back.
