Page 127 of Anything Necessary for Her
“Thought so. You better quit playing, nigga. This isn’t the one-sided hurting game like what you’re used to,” she said, speaking real shit.
Banks was the first woman that ever had the power to hurt or bother me. If another nigga fucked any of my old bitches, I would’ve wondered why the muthafucka was even telling me. That was how much of a fuck I didn’t give.
The rest of the ride to Banks’s crib was quiet, and that silence lingered as we filed out of the car and into the house.
I kicked it in the living room while she cooked for me, and moments later, she sauntered into the living room with a plate piled with two burgers, fries, and then a small plate of salad I had no interest in. I didn’t fuck with salad—not unless it was the one from the dinner with the St. Thomases.
“I don’t want that.” I pointed to it when she returned with her own plate and some drinks.
“Eat it, Willow. You need vegetables.” She shook her head with a roll of her eyes like I was getting on her fucking nerves.
I scarfed it down quickly to get it over with, then started to devour the main event which was the burgers and crispy fries.
“You better be glad this shit is good,” I jokingly threatened, making her suck her teeth and smirk.
“Or what?” Her brow lifted in amusement.
“Just be glad it’s good.”
Silence crept into the room yet again, before she said, “I’m sorry I hit your mom.” She put the quarter piece of her burger down on the plate and wiped her hands with the napkin. “I just got so mad when she hit you, and that coupled with seeing her slap Waverley just made me black out. I’m not even like that. I usually always keep it respectful with older people. Not so much when I was a teenager, but as a grown woman, I don’t conduct myself like that usually.”
I washed the last bite of my second burger down with the soda she’d given me before wiping my mouth with my napkin.
“While I appreciate that, Peep, I’m used to it. It’s the normal between Whitney and me. Plus, that shit don’t even hurt.”
“Maybe not physically, but mentally it does. I could see how your whole demeanor altered when you walked in and saw her. Then again when she hit you.”
The embarrassment I felt seeing Banks witness my mama’s violence, and also seeing she’d met her without me, made its return.
“I didn’t want you meeting her ass without me because I know how she is. I wanted to be there and make sure shit went a certain way, but her release day had slipped my mind. To keep shit real, the whole thing was embarrassing as fuck. That’s why I wanted you to dip and why I ain’t wanna see or talk to you,” I confessed.
Moving closer to me, her soft hand landed on the back of my neck soothingly.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed about that, Low. How she is has no bearing on what I think about you.” She stared at the side of my face as I kept my eyes on our empty plates sitting on the coffee table. “Have you ever met your father?”
“Never.” I shook my head, lids lowering at the feel of her soft hands caressing the nape of my neck. “For as long as I could remember, I ain’t ever been around that nigga. She claim Wyatt and I got the same father, but I don’t believe that shit. I was ten when he was born and would’ve recalled her being in that nigga’s presence at that time.”
I tried to think back, wondering if my own memories were even reliable. I was so stressed the fuck out even back then, hoping and praying I got enough to eat that day while my classmates were praying for PlayStations and the new Jordans. However, no matter how deeply I thought or tried to remember, nothing about my father had ever come up.
“That is weird that you never met him, but he was able to give you a sibling.” Banks frowned, mirroring my sentiments.
“She claims they met up somewhere and fucked just before he ghosted her again. I only got that information because she was somewhat sober while pregnant with Wyatt.” I shook my head, feeling the stress and tribulation start to cloak me, so I didn’t wanna discuss the topic anymore. “You got dessert?”
“I do, actually.” She lit up for some reason, shooting to her feet to collect the plates.
I checked both my phones while she was in the kitchen, to be sure nothing was amiss at home or in the field, and by the time I confirmed shit was straight, Banks had switched into the living room, beaming while holding two boxes of Peeps.
One box was the original yellow color, and the other was green, making me squint at the unfamiliar packaging.
“Man, I said some sweet shit.” I grinned, taking the green box to read that it was a sour watermelon flavor.
“This is sweet!” She plopped next to me, opening the original box first before offering me one.
Taking the squishy yellow duck, I inspected it, shocked by the nostalgic feeling it still gave a nigga. Not to mention, that same tranquil joy consumed me, overflowing a bit since Banks was here too.
She pressed her duck to mine in a cheers motion before we both bit into our own. The shit was overly sweet, but I was enjoying the feeling it gave me more so than the taste.
“Let’s see what this one talking about.” I handed her the green box for her to tear into.
