Page 26 of Delirium 2

I took a deep breath and remembered the prayer. Remembered asking not only God but the ancestors to help keep his intuition and awareness sharp. I clenched down on my teeth and tears wet the backs of my eyes as I thought about how that didn’t happen. That familiar pain hit me in the chest. A pain I was reunited with the minute that doctor told me Meech didn’t make it. I hated it. Hated it so much that before I knew it, I’d pulled my knees up on the couch and had wrapped my arms around myself. My head, however, stayed tossed back against that couch cushion. I cried. Silent tears that wet my entire face, flowing from my eyes like the Nile river. I gulped and pulled my lips into my mouth to muffle my groans. I was hurt. I was in so much pain, bro, that I held back. I felt like if I cried for real, I’d erupt. The gut-wrenching cry that would come from my soul would be earth-shattering. I was afraid to cry for real so… I just cried enough.

While I was in the middle of my moment, the couch moved. Someone sat down. I gasped, held my breath and squeezed my eyes tighter shut. Exodus. I didn't need to hear his voice or open my eyes to know that it was him. I smelled him the minute he sat down. I was embarrassed. Drunk, emotional, and embarrassed. What the hell was I doing? I should have taken my ass to my bedroom. Crying in a common area was such a rookie mistake. A rookie mistake for someone who was used to hiding her emotions was grave.

A second later, I felt a strong arm drape over my shoulder before he pulled me in closer to his side. I swallowed as that sense of calmness washed over me. The one from before. That feeling I needed the other day… where I hugged myself instead. That feeling. Something I could get used to. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Not wanting to get used to it had nothing to do with him being Exodus. It had everything to do with people in general. If there was one thing life’s taught me these twenty-one years it was that you shouldn’t get attached to people. They leave. They die. That realization made living in the moment hard. So difficult that I tried to pull away from his embrace, but he stopped me. Held me tighter and rubbed on my arm.

I cried harder.

Not because the pain of Meech’s death hit me again, but because of this. Because of the truth. Reality. That thing about not getting used to people. The feeling of being with them. I couldn’t attach myself to Exodus or the way he made me feel. Life was too fragile. Too unpredictable. Too… screwed up. We all died. Life was… it was pointless in that sense.

“Please… let me go,” I said through a cry.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t listen neither. Just tightened his grip on me. And instead of pulling away, I leaned in further. Moved my head over to the middle of his chest where I could hear the steady thumping of his heart. I softened the way I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Exodus felt so got damn good. Comforting and not only because he had his arms wrapped around me. Just in general. His woodsy scent. His… aura. His energy. It was infectious. It was alluring. Captivating in a way that made me want to drown in it. I just… I never felt anything like it.

We sat in silence with me crying in his arms for a while. When I got here, the sun was getting ready to set. By time I moved, it had gone down. The house was darker. Still and quiet with the exception of his breathing and my sniffling.

“Sorry,” I apologized, sitting up, against the back of the couch.

“Sorry for what? I don’t fuck with that word,” he blatantly said, before looking down at his wet t-shirt with a snort. He brushed it off, as if doing so would get rid of the tears and looked over at me. “If you’re apologizing about crying, you have nothing to apologize about.”

I motioned towards his shirt. “Your shirt.”

“Straight. Not damaged. It did its job.”

I frowned. “It did its job?”

“Hell yeah,” he said with a smirk. “Caught a river of tears.”

I didn’t say anything. I leaned my head back against the couch and put my eyes on the high ceiling. The wheels in my mind started to turn as I thought about changing the bulbs in the light fixture. It was huge. Had at least ten bulbs in it. But… my thing was… someone had to get on a damn ladder just to change one when it went out. The only thing I had to grab back at the apartment was a chair to change a bulb. First Lady’s house was just too damn big.

With a deep breath, my mind wandered back to where the tears were rooted. Demetrius. I wondered what he’d say if he knew I was here, working for the Christ family. He’d approve. He fucked with them heavy. I wondered how he felt now after Zeke left him. Probably the same. Since he understood the game better than I did.

I sighed. Closed my eyes and thought more of my brother.

“I miss him,” I whispered.

I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.

That was supposed to stay inside.

How it crept outside, I didn’t know. It just did. And the minute the words left my lips, I regretted not being able to control my thoughts. Or how they formed at least. He wasn’t supposed to hear that. No one was supposed to know that. I mean… they knew… but they weren’t supposed to hear it from me. They were supposed to hear that I was okay. They were supposed to only see what I was comfortable showing them. Smiles. That’s it. This part of me was supposed to be saved for quiet time alone. This side of grief was reserved only for me and God.

“Of course you do,” Exodus said. “You loss a brother. Couldn’t imagine…”

“I wouldn’t want you to. It’s,” I paused and swallowed. “It hurts.” Turning to face him, I opened my eyes. “I feel a little guilty.”

I did.

Hadn’t actually faced that fact.

Kept those thoughts even out of my mind. Every time I thought about what I felt guilty about, I dismissed it. Before a full thought could even form. I was so… conflicted about it.

“About what?”

I clenched down on my teeth and tears built behind my eyes. “I⁠—”

“You don’t have to share. Feel like you want to tho’. Need to, really,” Exodus interrupted, letting me know I didn’t have to tell him anything I wasn’t comfortable with telling before I started to stammer over my words.

I did want to tell him though.