Page 27 of Delirium 2

No.

I needed to.

I needed to face it.

To say it out loud.

“I—you know… my momma… she died too, right?” I said, tears rolling down my face.

He turned to face me. Head leaned against the back of the couch too. We were connected. Eye to eye. Like that other time when I sensed something other than pity coming from him. Today, it was the same. Today, it was compassion. And I swear to God I felt like his eyes were misty too.

“Yeah, I’m hip,” he softly said. The softness of his deep baritone comforting, almost as much as his arms wrapped around me.

I… I fucking liked Exodus Christ.

What people said about him… it couldn’t have been true. Brutal? Mean? Condescending? Cold? Callous? Didn’t fit what he showed me… at all.

“Losing Meech. Losing my brother. It—for some reason… it hurts more.”

There.

I said it.

I loved my momma with everything in me but for some reason losing Meech pained me more. The pain in my chest was somewhat unbearable. To a point where I’d have to massage my chest sometimes just to ease the pain. I didn’t like it. Missing him more. Hurting more behind his death. To me, it didn’t make any sense. She was my momma. He was my brother. I didn’t want to compare the two. I didn’t, honestly. It was just something I noticed and the minute I did, I felt an immense amount of guilt. So much, that any time I thought about Meech, I made sure to think about her, too. Which did nothing but make me hurt more. I was torturing myself because I didn’t want to miss my brother more than I missed my momma.

“That makes sense tho’,” he said with a pause. “After your moms died, all you had was him… right? Pops in prison⁠—”

“Yes, he’s in prison.”

“Exactly. All you had was Meech, baby girl. Losing him of course hurts more because shit… now it feel like you have nobody.”

“Feel like I don’t have nobody?” I snorted. “I don’t have anybody. It’s just me.”

“You only see it that way because you can only see it that way. But you’ve got plenty. Might not account for what you’ve lost, but I promise you not alone out here.”

I didn’t respond to that. Instead, I circled back to missing Meech more than my momma.

“You sure that’s not… weird?”

“I’m more than sure. You clung onto him because he was all you had left. In a sense. Losing him was catastrophic, baby. Drinking and shit won’t mask that. I’m telling you. I told you. Don’t get lost at the bottom of a bottle. Don’t get sloppy. Feel what you need to feel. Stop running. It’ll only hurt you in the long run. Speaking from experience.”

I didn’t say anything, but I heard him. Didn’t mean I took heed though because regardless of what he said, I was going to do what I wanted to do anyway.

6

EXODUS

“Where you at, fool?” Zeke asked on the other end of the phone.

“Moms crib.”

“For what?” He asked after sucking his teeth. “You hired shorty but be over there a lot more than usual.” He paused. “Aw shit. Don’t tell me bro⁠—”

“Fuck you want nigga?” I asked, leaning on the kitchen island, phone pressed against my ear, staring off into the dark living room where I once sat on the couch with Sereia.

It was late.

After eleven and I was still at my ma’s shit. Sereia left to go to bed about an hour ago and I was still posted. Just in case. Just in case what? She had another moment. A couple of hours ago, I sat on the couch with her while she cried against my chest. Grief weighed heavy on her spirit. I felt it on her every single time we were in the same room together. When I walked into the living room and saw her on the couch, crying, I had to sit with her. Had to wrap my arms around her. Had to spread a little bit of good energy her way. I wanted to be there for her. Oddly. Felt like I was supposed to be, to be honest. Big G didn’t put her in my life for no reason. I didn't feel a pull towards her for nothing.