Page 15 of Rayzor: Tell Me It’s Mine II

“What happened?” I asked flatly, knowing he’d either tell me the truth, lie or hide.

“Nothing.”

He hid. His answer final. His eyes filled with void. Much like Courtland when I tried to nurse the wounds he randomly came home with. He even looked like his brother.

I dropped his chin, hard enough for him to understand I didn’t like the answer but soft enough for a mother’s touch. I went to the freezer. grabbed a bag of peas and dropped them onto the table next to him.

“You might wanna put these on that so it doesn’t bruise,” I lectured.

He looked at the bag for a second but did as I told. He nursed it while scooping grits into his mouth.

The silence was hotter than the temperature outside.

Maleek didn’t try to offer reassurance. He owned his bruise while my mind went rampant. I wanted to cradle and protect him, but there was something about the broadness in his shoulders and the whiskers of his incoming mustache that told me he was turning into his own person. And sometimes Mama must let him lick his own wounds.

“How were tryouts?” I asked, slicing into my piece of avocado.

He shrugged. “They were alright.”

His eyes never left his plate. His response let me know that he was shutting me out and keeping things to himself. My youngest boy was now acting like he could handle the world by himself. I had to let him, only for my sake, because if I continued prying, it wouldn’t help. I had to let him come to me in his own time.

“What did I tell you about Courtland?”

“You ain’t gotta worry about him.”

“I do if he keeps undermining me.”

“He won’t be around no more.”

Somehow, it felt like that was the end of my sons’ relationship.

After breakfast, Maleek headed out with some friends while I tidied up around the house. I was doing anything to clear my mind. There was this anxious jitter that I only experience around certain times. It’s a feeling that I can barely contain, so I put this energy to use.

I grabbed his bag from the floor to vacuum when I noticed something peeking through the zipper. I set the bag alongside his bed, opening it. My heart thumped loudly, my stomach dropped, and my hands shook as I grabbed the tape then pulled the boxing gloves and mouth guard from the bag.

“My God. Why can’t my family escape this generational curse?!”

I didn’t even have the capacity to cry because I was too damn angry and afraid. Then I remembered Maleek’s face. Those bruises looked all too familiar to my past with Andre and Courtland. He had it honest, but he went about it differently– he chose to lie to me.

Anything could’ve happened to him while boxing, leaving me in the dark on how to navigate the worst. Why were all the men in my life so fucking hardheaded? That was a trait that couldn’t be escaped either.

I searched through the bag further, seeing the evidence that he’d been doing this a while. The gloves had wear on them, but they were still new. The leather was still intact. Something green tucked into the bottom of the bag alarmed me. As soon as I touched it, I knew what it was. I pulled loose dollar bills from underneath the bag.

Five of them.

He was getting money for something. It reminded me so much of Courtland and how I would find mystery money in bags. I later found out that he was getting paid to fight for the neighborhood kids.

“You need to come home now.”

“Why? I just got here,” he argued.

“I need to know where you’ve been.”

“I’m with Tyrek.”

I eyed the bag in disgust. “Come home now.”

“Why, Ma? What’s up?”