Page 92 of Obsessive Love
“Says the person who isn’t wearing it.”
He looked over his shoulder and smirked. “You want me to wear one?”
“No,” I answered and shook my head.
“I would; you know that, right?” he asked, and I nodded. He turned around and took another pull of his blunt. “All you gotta do is say so, and we’ll match.”
“I don’t need you to wear one,” I said as I traced the tattoo of his last name across the top of his back. “I know your obsessed ass will always come back to me.”
“True,” he agreed. “I just wish I could say the same about you.”
“Pyrite,” I sighed.
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. He took another pull of his blunt, put the rest in his ashtray, and stood. He walked to the dresser, set the ashtray on it, turned around, and blew the smoke out of his mouth. “I can’t handle this conversation tonight, Itty Bitty.”
“I-”
“Not tonight, please,” he said, shaking his head. “Tonight, I just want to go to sleep holding you. Give me a couple of days, then we can go back to fighting and shit. But right now, I need you to be my peace. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “I can do that.”
“Thank you.” Pyrite walked back to the bed, climbed in, and I crawled up to him. I laid on his chest as he covered us with the blanket, then wrapped his arms around me. “I’m obsessed with you, Fable. I don’t know how to deal with the fact that you don’t feel the same. I’m trying to learn to let you go; bear with me. I think I’m almost there.”
PYRITE
We stoodat Ms. Arlene’s gravesite, surrounding Hood, Legacy, and Mr. Bowlin. Ms. Arlene had requested a graveside service with nothing but her close friends and family present. Pastor DeCorte gave a sermon that had all of us in tears. He preached about love, living life to the fullest, and never regretting anything. He knew Ms. Arlene had a long fight, but she never let cancer stop her from living. She’d fallen in love, had a child, raised that nigga, and let him live. When Hood and I became friends, we were young and thought we knew everything, not realizing we didn’t know shit. Ms. Arlene cursed us out plenty of nights when we walked into her house. She even put us out a few times.
“When Arlene told me she wasn’t going to fight this time, I remember thinking that I was going to die with her,” Mr. Bowlin, Hood’s daddy, said from his seat. “She looked me right in the eyes and told me, ‘Bowlin, yo bowlegged ass ain’t following me to heaven just yet, so just sit tight.’”
I laughed and shook my head because that sounded like some shit she would say.
“Anyway, Arlene knew I would come back and try to take care of her.” He wiped his face and sighed. “She put me out thefirst few times I came by. Every damn time, she would let me sit on her porch, cry and beg her to change her mind, and she’d tell me to get off her porch.” He let out a humorless laugh. “And I did it because I knew I was coming back the next day to do it all over again.” He shook his head. “She was so damn strong all these years; every time it came back; she would just let me sit there, cry and complain about how unfair it was, like I was the one with cancer.” He patted Hood on the shoulder. “She fought until she couldn’t. She held on to see our boy fall in love.” He reached across Hood to touch Legacy’s leg. “She’s at peace because of you.”
“Arlene and I have been friends for almost twenty years,” Mrs. Mary said from her seat across from Mr. Bowlin, Hood, and Legacy. Her grandchildren stood behind her, looking like the deadliest army any person could have. “One day, Krude started talking about this boy, some doctor he knew was friends with. He swore that his friend would be something special, so I told him to invite him over for dinner. We were all used to Krude bringing new people around, so having a new face at the table wasn't uncommon. Anyway, in walks Hood, this high-yellow boy dressed in ball shorts, a tank, and some slides. I knew my grandson had finally lost his mind. Wasn’t no way this boy was a damn doctor.” She laughed and shook her head. “Then he started talking, and I realized I had judged him by his looks and was wrong. Not only was he smart, but he was respectful. I apologized to him during our conversation, and Hood laughed. He said that his mama would kick his ass if he were ever disrespectful to his elders. So I told him to bring her to the next Sunday dinner. He did one better; he brought her to church the next Sunday. Arlene sat next to her son, right on my family pew; as soon as church was over, she pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear that her son hadn’t stepped foot in a church in years; she said he was angry with God becauseof her diagnosis and battle. But he came home last week and told her they were attending church. After that, we talked daily. Sometimes about nothing, other times about life. I was there for every doctor's appointment, diagnosis, and remission. We laughed, joked, cried, and lived for the last twenty years.” She looked up at me and smiled. “We did some shit that ain’t worth mentioning and other things that will never leave this graveyard.”
“I remember the first time I met Ms. Arlene,” Givens said beside me. “She cussed my ass out so bad for missing a shot that cost her thirty dollars.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I offered to pay her the money back, and she declined; she said that it wasn’t the money she was mad about; it was the potential that I was wasting that pissed her off. I was a rookie with a chip on my shoulder and a kid at home to care for. She said I was wasting my talent, and if I wasn’t going to play like I had shit to prove, then I needed to get off her son's friend's team. She said Hood went through all those years of college and med school and was only going to take care of niggas worthy of her time. If I didn’t impress her, then I couldn’t sit my ass on the bench, let alone wear a Kings jersey. I took that shit to heart, too, because I’d never had someone talk to me like that. Don’t get me wrong, people talked, but no one said that shit to my face like Ms. Arlene did.”
For the next hour, we all spoke our peace—some stories funny, some serious, some sad, but all of them real. Ms. Arlene’s impact on our lives was monumental, and she would be missed.
“Our last person to speak is the person we are here celebrating.” Pastor DeCorte stepped aside, and Nine stood.
“Nigga with grey eyes, you about to do some Tony Stark shit and play a hologram?” Krude asked, and we all laughed.
“Nah, man,” Nine said, shaking his head.
“Then what the hell is the point of having a tech genius in the family?” he threw his hands in the air and shook his head. “Cross, your next husband needs to be more helpful than this nigga.”
“I still owe you for shooting me; don’t make me cash in that bullet plus another one,” Nine warned Krude.
“We are at the cemetery, so pick a plot,” Krude threatened him, and all I could do was shake my head.
“Krude, leave him alone,” Mrs. Mary said, turning around to face him. “Shit.” Krude put his hands up like he was surrendering, and she nodded, then turned around. “Hurry the hell up, Nine; you know he’s going to start back up any minute.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, nodding. A projector screen was already set up, playing a continuous video of pictures of Ms. Arlene throughout her life. Nine stopped the video and loaded another video.
“Is this thing on?” Ms. Arlene sat in her living room, dressed in the same outfit from when they jumped Legacy’s mama.
“Yes, ma’am, it’s playing,” Emrick chuckled. “I’ll edit that out later.”
