A year later, seeing this yellow nigga flipping pancakes on the griddle with Sadé in his own harness for her, it’s hard to believe this istheP-Nutty.
At first I thought he thought that seeing him with a baby would get Dal to relent on them having another child. But now, I think he really just enjoys kids. I never thought I’d have to fight a bunch of people to have time with my baby, but here I am, sketching at the island, wishing she’d be as calm with me as she is with her uncle.
Shit, she’s that calm with all her uncles. And her daddy. And Denver.
Oh lawd, my baby hates women!
I clear my throat, getting rid of that horrible thought before smirking at my brother. “You growing your hair back out?”
Peanut lifts one shoulder as he moves the rest of the pancakes onto a dish. “Choc be acting like she miss my hair. I told her she want me to grow it back, she need to be doing my shit.”
“Nutty gone do whatever for his Choc,” I mimic kissing noises and he flips me off. But then, as he starts on the scrambled eggs, a grin grows on his face, and I know it’s finna be bullshit.
“Ay, we haven’t caught up in a lil minute. ‘Sup witchu and yo bd?”
My sketch becomes interesting, so I focus on that.
“C’mon Mace. I thought we bonded and shit. Remember all the shenanigans we did getting the wedding together? What you call us? Tylenol PM ‘cause we knock niggas out?”
I snort, shaking my head. But then I point my pencil at him. “You ain’t slick. Niggas get married and forget about their bestie-in-law! You said you’d join book club.”
“Macy, you eat up all my food, and yo baby be hollering like the Tasmanian Devil. It’s impossible to forget yo ass. And I don’t need to join book club, when Choc gives me the play by play all night after. But stop tryna deflect. You can tell me anything else but can’t tell me wassup with you and Shad? Y’all just fucking, that’s y’all business. But if it’s more, then I need to have the birds and the bees talk with a lil Nutty threat.”
I swoon, smiling up at him. See? A sweetheart. “Nutty, you don’t have to threaten him–”
“Girl, I’d be threatening you.”
Oh.
“I’ve seen first hand how niggas fall at they feet for you,” he continues, adding cheese to the eggs. “You a heartbreaker foreal,and my baby bro, he sensitive. He don’t like showing emotion, but he’s a ticking timebomb, and I don’t want you to chew him up and spit him out and then he try to do a murder-suicide.”
I roll my eyes, slamming my pencil down on the counter. “You so worried about his feelings, like he’s not the one who helped deliver my baby–that he claims–and then disappeared for three months! You caping for him so hard, doyouknow where he went?”
Nutty’s face turns pensive, as his movements slow. “Nah. He’ll tell us on his own.”
“Will he? Has he? It’s been some weeks, Nut. Has he told you?”
He faces me fully now, food forgotten. “What you tryna say bro?”
“I’m saying, you’re talking about he’s a ticking timebomb. That nigga already went off. You thinking because he hasn’t said anything, he’s straight. I know you got your own family, and your clubs, but Shaddy hasn’t been okay for a long time. Way longer than I’ve been around. You’d know that if you paid attention. Just like you’d know what was up with us.”
I pick up my sketchbook and pencil before rounding the island corner to get Sadé. But true to his nurturing nature, he shifts away. “I got her,” he mutters, still lost in what I said.
I nod, resisting the urge to comfort him, and make my way to the sun room. In the year I’ve been here, I know it’s hard for Peanut to admit he’s wrong about something. Not because he’s an asshole, but because he’s way more sensitive than he lets on, too. He hates feeling like he’s failed anyone around him, since he’s the oldest out of his crew.
But what I said is true. Shaddy hasn’t been okay. I don’t know if he’ll ever be okay. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the shit they’re trying to prevent from happening, this epic meltdown of his, has been happening for years.
Thankfully, I lose myself in this last piece of mine. It’s the biggest one, and I know off bat it’s my favorite. I sent off some sketches and some samples for this small gallery downtown this morning, but I think they’re really gonna fuck with me. Thanks to a vlog where PC went in depth about a piece he bought from me a few years back, I’ve made a small fortune selling pieces and doing a few commissions. I’ve always been creative, but I never thought to sell my work before. It wasn’t until one of my artist beaus wanted to get frisky with some paint and showed me how much someone offered for the finished product that I was inspired.
Having artist’s block during my pregnancy really drained me. Painting became an outlet quickly, and though I am thankful I can make a living off it, even if I never made another dime, I’d still do it. I leak all the emotions I’m scared to voice onto the canvas. This project especially.
I almost don’t wanna show it. Especially this piece. But then, I know that’s bullshit. My art should be shared. Shit, there’s at least one person that can relate, probably.
My baby hollering breaks me out of my focus. I set my brush down and spin, ready to give her smiles and kisses, but then I see who’s holding her, and my smile falls instantly.
YT rolls her eyes. “You said we were cool, and you lied! If I wasn’t so attached to Beanie, I’d throw her out the window.”
She’s so fucking dramatic. I reach for Sadé, but YT twists.
