Page 20 of Certified Pressure
After I hung up, I walked past the living room and went straight to Mama’s room. She was now sitting on the edge of the bed, lighting another cigarette.
“I’m taking Zurie to Uncle Lionel’s,” I said, already bracing for the argument.
“The hell you mean you takin’ her somewhere?” she snapped, standing up. “She’s my damn child. You didn’t even ask me.”
“I didn’t ask because I knew you’d say no, and I’m not giving you the option, mama.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think I can’t take care of my own daughter?”
“You can’t,” I said, blunt and cold. “You’re not well, Mama. You take pills and fall asleep with lit cigarettes in your hand. You argue with Daddy while Zurie’s in the next room, scared out of her mind. You forget things. You lose track of time, and I’m not about to leave her here knowing she could have another episode, and you won’t even hear her call your name.”
“You don’t get to talk to me like?—”
“I’m not arguing with you,” I said, cutting her off. “If you want to see her, she’ll be at Uncle Lionel’s. That’s where she’s staying. Period.”
I left before she could respond, walking back to Zurie’s room and quietly packing her bag. I folded all her clothes, tucked in her favorite pajamas, her teddy bear, her toothbrush, her pink slippers, her medicines, and the backup list of everything the doctors had told me. By the time I zipped the bag closed, Kashmere was already outside waiting in the car.
We made the drive in silence, Zurie sleeping softly in the backseat. When we pulled up to Uncle Lionel’s house in Chapel Grove, the porch light was on. He and Aunt Deanne were standing at the door waiting for us.
“Thank y’all,” I said once we were inside. “For real. Whatever money I get while away, I’m sending it straight to y’all.”
Aunt Deanne smiled and touched my shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. Just focus on doing what you need to do.”
I handed them the list I had written out—everything Zurie needed, what to do if something happened, the hospital contacts, the medications, the symptoms to watch for. UncleLionel looked it over, then said, “You know Deanne’s a nurse, right?”
I froze. “Oh my God… I forgot.”
“She’s been one almost fifteen years.”
And just like that, something inside me let go. That weight I’d been dragging around…It lifted.
I hugged them both and kissed Zurie’s forehead one more time before we left.
On the way back home, I looked out the window, feeling something I hadn’t felt in a long time… relief.
Now all I had to do was get on that plane in the morning.
Trill-Land, Jungle Estate
Week one…
Today was the day that I would meet the Diamonds or whatever the fuck you wanted to call them, and I still didn’t know how to feel about the shit.
I hadn’t put much effort into pickin’ any of them, to be honest. That was all Renza. He was the one who studied their bios, stalked their social media and Zoom-called some of them like this was a damn job interview. I barely looked through the pictures he sent. I’d glance at a few, say “she straight,” and toss the phone to the side. This whole setup still felt dumb to me. A nigga like me needin’ help to pick a wife? Please.
But here we was, and Renza was hype enough for all of us.
I stood in front of the mirror in my room while Blaqson sat on the arm of the couch scrollin’ through his phone, barely payin’ attention to me but still somehow knowin’ what I was doin’.
“You gon’ have a whole jungle full of women fightin’ over you in a minute,” he said, still lookin at his screen. “You better be on your best behavior.”
“I just hope they don’t fuck up my floors,” I muttered.
My fade was fresh, waves laid deep like ocean current. My beard was thick, lined sharp enough to draw blood if I turned my head too fast. I had on a deep brown suede suit jacket with a velvet collar, no shirt underneath, just a little chest showin’ to flex the ink stamped across my skin. I had gold links on my neck, and the watch on my wrist cost more than a luxury car. Niggas couldn’t even pronounce what I had on right, let alone afford it. The slacks was tailored and the loafers were foreign and polished so clean you could see your reflection if you stared long enough.
I sprayed on some cologne that came in a black bottle with no label. It was the type of scent you had to be invited to buy. One spritz, maybe two, and I was ready.
Blaqson finally looked up. “Ain’t gon’ lie. You lookin’ presidential in this bitch.”
