Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
They glared at one another. His eyes burned with rage and sorrow. Her eyes glossed over with moisture, then the tears started to fall.
“Legend, I wanted you and Mel to have a father figure. Your own father abandoned us. I deserved to be happy, too! No man I brought home was ever good enough. You caused so many problems in my relationships that you’d run a lot of ’em off! Terry had a good job, and you went and pulled a knife on him!”
“Terry was on uppers, heroin and cocaine, Mama! These guys figured maybe they could get free room and board, and a green card outta you! Cid before the kids! Pedro before niños! Juan before spawn! You were chasin’ lovers instead of chasin’ your children. If jumpin’ on random dicks was a sport, you’d get a gold medal. You’re an old, washed-up whore. I’m a whore too, Mama…” He shrugged, then casually tossed up his hands. “Guess I got it honest, huh?”
She marched up to him and slapped him. The burn on his cheek meant nothing to him. He barely felt it physically, but deep within his soul, it was another matter.
“GET OUT!”
“Oh, I am leaving. Believe that.” He grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and slipped them into his pocket. “But let me settle somethin’ right quick before I go. Don’t think I didn’t notice how now that I’m working a regular job, a square job, and can’t really do for you like that right now, you want to make Axel out to be the bad guy on the sly. He ain’t held shit over my head, but you have. You don’t want me to be okay, Mama. You want me to constantly fuck up because you like seeing people doing worse than you, even if it’s your own child. You just pretended to want me to do better. Remember when you told me to stop actin’ Black when I was a kid? I had hardly been around Black kids way back then. I just liked the music. The style. The culture. It came to me naturally. It was just who I was.
“I heard you tell Donna, your little demented partner in crime, the one that smokes meth, that my father must’ve had some Black in him, and it rubbed off on me. You told her maybe if you poured bleach in my ear when I’m asleep, it would seep into my brain, and whiten me up on the inside. Y’all just laughed and laughed. Then you came into my room and destroyed all my rap CDs. Got rid of all my clothes—called them ‘thug gear.’ After that, besides Axel and Caspian, when I got older, most of my other friends were Black. You told me you didn’t understand how I ended up like this… like it was some disease. Really, you’ve hated me for a long time.”
“I don’t hate you, and I ain’t never said nothing like that ’bout any bleach and such! You made that up! Get out, Legend! Don’t make me tell you again.”
Her lower lip quivered as her steely light blue eyes bore into him. At that moment, he hated every part of her. The twists of her hair. The way her chest rose and fell as her temper swelled. He loathed her knotted words, her absurd utterances dipped in malice, and her dying, disgusted eyes. And yet, he still wished he didn’t feel like that. Remorse? Guilt? That dark emotion climbed up his throat and threatened to be expelled. As if he needed an exorcism. The foulness inside of him was rotten, a mountain of stinking secrets he held onto tight. They festered, swathed in the image of the mother he wished he had, versus the mother he damn sure got.
Turning on his feet, he walked out of the kitchen.
“God is going to get you, Legend! You’ve run the streets your whole life and blamed me!” she ranted, revving up her crying—her typical go-to reaction when he called her out on her shit. “You got kicked out of the Army. You blamed me! You started missin’ so much school you were gonna fail. Yup! Ya blamed me, again!” He could hear her walking behind him, practically chomping at the bit to hurt him in retaliation. “You went to prison over and over again, and would call me and cuss me out. Get mad if I ain’t put nothin’ on yer books! I ain’t never did nothin’ to you but love you! I mean it. IF YOU DON’T DO RIGHT, GOD’S GOING TO GET YOU!” she cried out again, her voice trembling.
He faced her then, and in a calm voice, he replied, “God already got me. Wasn’t anything worse he could do than give me a mother like you…”
And with that, he left.