RIPPED & READY (PART 22)

RIPPED & READY (PART XXII)

The continued lack of respect that pops has for my moms was beginning to alter my personality.  I felt a surge of bitterness infecting my attitude.  Even though my mother told me that it didn't bother her, I couldn't help but feel that deep down inside of her, she was hurting.  As a child I never could understand why moms labored as much as she did at the church, but I clearly got it -- she needed to keep her mind occupied so that she had less time alone to stew over pop's lewd, disrespectful behavior. 

Once we arrived back at the beach house, I was in a different mood.  The "tid-day" brigade was still in effect; Darren, Charles, and Collin were definitely under the influence of alcohol because they were slurring their words, laughing like booze hounds, and they were pre-occupied trying to impress the kitties.

I wasn't remotely interested in joining in on the fun, but I didn't want to spoil theirs.  I told Todd and Joseph that I wasn't feeling well and that I was going to go into one of the rooms and chill.  They said okay, and they went into the living room to join the party in progress.  I walked down the long hallway until I found the room furthest from all the noise. 

I shut the door behind me, fumbled for the light switch, turned it on, and when I saw how laid out it was I was floored.  It looked as if there had been a white-explosion because everything was white, the chase lounger, the lush carpet, the walls, the dressers, the phone, and the bed itself -- including the quilt on it.  It was a little bright on the eyes. 

I kicked off my shoes, removed my clothes, and once I found a less luminous light to keep on, I turned off the main one over head.  Damn, there was so much white that when I hit the switch, I got a little dizzy now that the room was darker.  The shit was beautiful, but damn, who in the hell picked out this "virgin-white" decor, Mary herself?  Geesh!   

I lay across the bed in nothing but my under wear, and the coolness from the quilt felt nice against my skin.  I was feeling a little bit more relaxed, away from all that business taking place in the front of the house.  Huh, judging from everyone's behavior I just knew somebody, if not everybody, was going to get lucky tonight.  

As I started drifting off to sleep, I heard the door knob turn, and I rolled over to see who it was entering the room.  It was Collin.  He closed it behind him and staggered over to the bed where I was.  He sat down, kicked off his shoes, and climbed onto it with me.  Judging by his solemn demeanor, I could tell he had started thinking about his mother again. 

He moved up towards where I was, and got in back of me, wrapping his legs and arms around me.  "Marco, I miss her so much, dude," he whispered, sniffling.  I placed my arms over his and applied some affectionate pressure to his. 

"It's going to be okay, Collin.  Just remember how much she loved you, and let that love give you the strength you'll need to get past the mourning and rise up higher, above the violence that took her away," I said, now sniffling too. 

He squeezed me tighter and I felt the stiffness of his personality against my rear.  "Hey, dude, remember when moms cursed your father out for letting yawls’ dog shit on our lawn," he said, laughing through his tears. 

"What lawn, nigga, all ya'll had, even then, was a bunch of dirt with more weed activity than a Method Man & Redman concert," I said, jokingly. 

He thrust forward, playfully, "Awww, nigga, why you wanna disrespect our front lawn like that, we had grass dude," he said, nuzzling up against me. Now you know my sequoia had started making some noise of it's own down in my boxer-briefs. 

"Naw, remember that time, dude, when D'Andre's mom and your moms started tussling out on our front lawn? Pops' stupid tacky dressing ass was out there with a beer in his hands, laughing and instigating.   My moms chased both of them out of the yard with that big ass kitchen knife and cursed his ass out". 

"Yea, your moms was wrong for that one, nigga," he said, tickling me on my side.  "Nigga, you need to lay off the damn butter pecan 'cause you picked back up some of that weight you had lost," he said, grabbing my love handle. 

"Fuck you, motherfucker," I said, laughing, moving my feet around, against his.

"Marco, you know those niggas ain't going to get away with what they did to moms, man," he said in a serious tone.  

"Bro, violence with violence only leads to more death. I don't want to lose you this soon in life, Collin," I told him, turning around to face him. 

We were practically nose to nose.  I stroked the side of his cheek, and asked him, "Dude, why did they come gunning for you, bro?" 

"It was over some crazy shit, man.  Peewee's, little brother, Darius, told him that I stole some weed from him and he was lying his ass off.  Daruis and those other youngsters he runs with had been seen all over town, riding around, smoking blunt after blunt, but, I guess he believed his blood over me," he said. 

"Collin, it's time to change how you're living man.  There ain't nothing out there in them streets but trouble and, let me make a suggestion right now," I said. 

"Go ahead, bro, shoot from the hip," he said, stroking me around my hairline with his index finger. 

"Stop wearing that fake ass gold chain nigga, before it turns your neck green," I said, pinching his nose gently. 

"Oh, so now you gonna talk about a brotha's jewelry, huh?" he asked, giggling.

"Nigga, that ain't jewelry that's fool-ry," I responded, pulling him into me to keep him from punching me. 

We laughed our asses off, and fell asleep spooned together like two lovers.

The night ended on a high note, now what will tomorrow bring.  I wish we could stay for longer than a couple of days.  I just knew I had burned up a large chunk of my vacation time, but I didn't give a fuck. 

Come tomorrow, there is another day....