Page 26 of My Brother's Keeper
I ran my hand down my face. Yes.
Promise me.
I promise.
I headed out of her place and through the courtyard when I spotted Dio and Samara coming out of an apartment. I jogged over to them, “D-d-d-Dio!” I shouted.
His head spun, and he threw his hand up when he saw me. When I reached him, we dapped each other up. “The stutter man. What’s good, my boy?”
I pointed at him and Samara. “S-s-sup, gu-gu- girl?”
She gave me a weak smile. “Hey, Peanut.”
Something was up between them. “Yo-yo-yo-yo you li-li-live—”
Dio cut me off. “Yes,welive here.”
I glanced at Samara, who shied away. They were living together. Dio looked at Samara. “Mars chill. Peanut won’t say shit.”
I threw my hands up. We all knew how Chev was about his kids. Samara was scared, while Dio’s ass wasn’t worried aboutshit. I shook my head as I dapped him up one last time before leaving.
***
I was coming up on the end of my three-hour ride back home. Being away from the city for twenty-four hours felt like a fucking dream, one that I knew was going to be ruined by Mison and his bullshit. I knew it was time to talk about him getting help, but I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. Now that Zay had somewhat washed his hands of Mison, I knew I was the only one left. I was my brother’s keeper, and if it meant I had to die trying to save his life, I would. With Mison, you never knew if death was around the corner.
I stopped at a store in the Cove that was near Blue Hope Projects. The place had deteriorated into shit. Between the addicts and the homeless, they practically took over the neighborhood. We lived there at one point, then my father got a good job and moved us to a better part of the Cove. Hell, from what I know, the nigga got real fancy and sent Mison and Xavier to a school in the burbs. Then my mother got sick and shit changed.
Xavier was good at balling, so the coach made a way for him to stay at the school, and Mison had just graduated a few years before. I didn’t even get the option because my life had shifted by the time I reached high school. My fate was left in Mison’s hands and public school is what I was left with.
I entered the corner store to grab myself a snack. When I glanced out the window to see a homeless nigga touching on my fucking bike. I tossed the cashier money as I rushed outside and shoved the nigga back. He wore a pair of old, ripped-up jeans that had FUBU on the legs. The dress shirt he was wearing was dingy and half-open. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in years, and his hair was matted to his head. However, the light frecklesspread across his nose and the way his eyebrows shifted inward caught my attention. Then he laughed. He held a single gold crown around his tooth. “P-p-pu-pops?”
He staggered forward, leaned in, trying to keep his balance as he squinted and looked at me. “Jalen!” he shouted.
Yes.I signed.
He guzzled down whatever was under that brown paper bag and tossed it in the street. He ran his hand down his dirty jeans.
Son. I didn’t think I would see you down here.He signed.
I was surprised the nigga still had it in him. The way his hands moved was so smooth, like he didn’t miss a beat.
You remember.
Of course. Some things you don’t forget.
But you can forget about your kids?
He pointed to my bike.I see you're following your brothers. How are they?
Nah, I don’t follow them niggas. They straight. Well, Mison, he’s.I paused.
Is he still drinking?
You need to see for yourself. All this shit is your fault. We needed you and you left us. When mom died, so did you and Mison.
I hopped on my bike to take off. This was the only part of my father I remember. I wasn’t blessed with the good parts. I was about to start my bike when he walked up to me. “I-I want to fix it. I do. Hey, the holidays are coming up, maybe we can do it like the good old days.”
I put my helmet on and flipped the visor so he couldn’t see my face. He scratched the back of his head as he glanced around, then back at me. “You,” he paused as I started my bike. “You got a few dollars, so I can grab something to eat. I get paid on—”
