Shut Up & Listen - Chapter 68: Chapter 68

August 9
4 am
Cole
I took the paper from my pocket— the piece of paper that had been slid underneath the door of the loft. It was written in pen on the apartment's stationary from the front desk. The paper said,
: we made a pact that we'd both be out of the game by the time we turned 25. he didn't keep his promise. I did him a favor, he was never gone get out. After his brother died, I don't think it was in his plans anymore. I think he thought this was it for him. I was under the same spell until I met you. You're my way out, Cole. My pops always called you a godsend after you saved me the first time, but he will never know all of the times you've saved me after that. He will never know how much of a godsend you actually are, my guardian angel.
Thank you for breaking me out, helping me to see the truth. Mine and Mo's lives were ruined the moment we were born into the families we were. People like us don't have families like yours where people believe in you. Nobody ever pushed me to be better or do better, my family depends on my inability to be a good person. but you proved to me that anything is possible and that I have a choice. I am not a bad person, I am capable of giving love. I love you Colin. I will always love you. You understand me like nobody else does, you made me complete. I owe my life to you.
I have to go, but I want you to know I will always be looking after you. Don't be sad. Don't cry for me. Just be the best version of you, ok. Don't forget that you're a star. You're my star. And one day, they'll name a constellation after us. The story won't be anything like the one you told me the night we met. It will inspire love, Cole. Real love.
And one more thing. Please don't let this change the way you see me. I did a lot of things I regret but I'm going to make them right tonight. I have to make shit right again. Nobody deserves the type of hurt I brought into this world so I have to settle the score. I have to make amends. I'm glad we met when we did. That was meant to be. On everything, Cole, you were my reason to believe I could do good.
Live long my lil chocolate nigga.
Peacefully.
-L.J.
I was sitting on the concrete in front of the safety rail at the river walk when I read it. I read it ten times. Maybe eleven. When did he write this and why did he leave this instead of calling me or texting me?
I read it again before neatly folding it back and returning it to my pocket. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my arms and chin on them, looking out onto the water. The way the waves crashed onto the wall when boats went on always soothes me, just the sound of the crash into the concrete. But right now, everything reminds me of what I'm losing.
How can I be soothed by the same sound he soothed me under— let me be me under; gave me him under. No one else even knows what I'm losing or why. Nobody knows the kind of bond we had. It just makes it harder to mourn a soul that wasn't supposed to meet mine- a forbidden thing that I held on to too tight knowing it wasn't mine to keep.
"Why the fuck would he tell me I'm his way out just to fucking leave!?" I angrily asked the lake. This lake has seen me before, many times. It's always there for me when I need to yell out they why's and wonders when I know no one else will have them.
Those tears that streamed down my cheeks as I yelled met the corners of my mouth, reminding me of him also. I won't ever not feel him.
And just as I did the two or three nights since, I picked myself up from this concrete and sat in my car until I fell asleep only waking up when the sun did. My phone died days ago. I haven't bothered to charge it. I haven't even picked it up since I last looked at it to call Cobe at the hospital that day.
Of all the years I've lived through being abused and terrorized, this year by far takes the cake as the most draining. It's the one I'll never forget.
I closed my eyes and dreamt of him. I'll dream of him eternally. I'll never forget this year with him. This year I met him— I met me. Every time I close my eyes, I'll be looking right into his.
But, when I opened my eyes the next morning, I couldn't see him. His eyes were hard to remember. I couldn't picture his smile or the way his voice sounded. All I could see were Cobe's eyes, bloodshot and cold laying in the arms of some nigga I never even knew. He wouldn't have wanted his last moments to be with me— not after all I've done— but, I still can't help the feeling of guilt that tugged at my lungs when I thought of him.
I need to get out of here. I've been in this parking lot for almost a week and I smell like shit and my feelings are terribly bent and battered and bruised. How'd I lose the two people who meant the most to me within hours of each other? I want to blame Lonnie— but I can't. He was already dead when it happened, but it was because of him that Cobe was caught in the crossfire. He's lucky he's dead or I'd kill him myself— how could he take Mo's life so close to Cobe? And why the hell would he admit to it on paper? Fuck, this is evidence. But nobody knows about it except me. Cobe hated me anyway. He only wanted to Fuck because his nigga was missing and that's how he handles stress. Fuck him. Damn, that's fucked up. You can't say that about a dead man.
"You talking to yourself, now?" A familiar voice asked from behind me. I turned around, not even remembering getting up to my loft's door. I looked the man up and down. He was a brown skinned brother with a beard and mustache that outlined a wide sparkly smile. He wasn't smiling right now though. Not fully like the other night.
He was standing at the entrance of his apartment, almost right across from mine, just like he said. I smiled, looking him up and down again to which he frowned. "You smell like shit, Luke James."
My smile immediately vanished and I turned to my door. I'd meant to go in, but I wasn't moving. I had the key in my hand, close enough to the door to unlock it, but I just couldn't do it. I turned back around and lowered myself to the carpeted hall floor. A tear rolled down my cheek.
"Yo, my bad." He said, moving from the space at his door over to where I was sitting. "You alright?"
All I could do was shake my head no. If I'd opened my mouth to say anything, it would've sounded like a jumbled mess of tears, heaving and— just a lot of shit I don't want a rando to see.
"Can I do anything?" He asked, getting no reply from me. But it didn't offend him. He offered his hand to me to help me up then we both went into his apartment and he closed the door behind us. "Have a seat." He offered, gesturing to a classy blue velvet couch in the center of his own luxury loft.
"Nah, I'm a mess." I mumbled, looking at how nice the couch was.
"Well, the bathroom's down the hall if you want to freshened up? I don't mind going to your place to get you a change of clothes.." He offered, but I shook my head no and walked down the hall to find the bathroom. A few minutes later, he knocked on the door. I opened it to see him standing there with a clean rag & towel folded neatly on top of a tee and joggers. "I haven't worn or used any of this yet, so.. you don't have to worry about that." He smiled. I took the pile of cloths and he reached in his back pocket to hand me an unopened toothbrush as well. "I travel often, so, I keep a lot of these around." He said, nervously. "Not that your breath stinks or anything, Luke James."
I smiled back at him. "Listen, I'm just having a rough ass week, I know my breath smell like ass. That being said, my name is Cole. Don't be around telling niggas that Luke James don't brush his teeth, that's all Cole." I chuckled, not getting too much of a response from him.  "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Cole." He smiled, leaving the hall.
I came out into the living room dressed in clean clothes and smelling fresh to find the brother sitting on the couch with two plates on the table.
"I hope it's alright, I just made you a l'il sandwich and chips. I'm always out so I don't have much real food in the crib." He apologized for the content of the meal, but I had been eating nothing but pills for a week straight, so this was a step up.
"I'm not too good for a sandwich bruh. I 'preciate you, forreal."
He nodded his head and began to eat his sandwich and I could feel him looking at me every few seconds. He drank his pop then cleared his throat. "So, where—" he stopped himself. I could tell he was wrestling with what to say. "So, where have you been staying?" He asked, looking at me until I looked at him. "I've seen a couple dudes come looking for you, they asked me about you."
"Oh." Was all I said. Suddenly I wasn't hungry any more. In fact, my stomach turned. It had been at least six days. I wonder if I'd missed the funeral for Lonnie. My eyes went dry at the thought of not being there to say my final goodbye.
"You good?"
"They're my brothers. My phones been dead for a week so, so I guess they're just trying to see what happened to me."
"Why? If you don't mind me asking."
"I got some bad news. I couldn't handle it, so I dipped."
"Well, you should call them so they know you're alright , man. A week is a long time for no one to hear from you."
"I don't know, it might've just been five days."
He chuckled, shaking his head.
I had been thinking about when he came into my apartment— did he ever tell me his name? I remembered that he said he just moved in across the hall. We're neighbors. He said niggas hate me, called me Luke James but did he ever say his name?
"Yeah, Trinity Garner. You forgot the part where you kicked me out your crib too. But it was just— I did trespass, even if it was with good intentions."
Damn, I said that out loud?
"You good, bruh?"
"I just got a lot on my mind."
"You want to talk about it?"
"Your voice sounds familiar."
"I —yeah. We met the other night."
"No, like. Do I know you from somewhere?"
"Probably your dreams." He said, casually. It took me a moment to realize what he said. Damn that's funny, I thought before I laughed. I laughed a gut wrenching, heart stopping, side pain laugh. The type of laugh that every time you try to say something else, your breath leaves before you can get it out. He laughed to.
"Damn, I need to get high." I mumbled after the laughter died down. Laughing is good medicine, but the effects don't last as long as a good high— it's like the build up before an orgasm. Afterwards, you still feel like shit. He didn't hear me.
"You wanna do something fun?" He asked without a follow up, waiting for my reply?
"Like what?" I asked.
He shrugged. "You like Dave & Busters?"
I laughed again.
"What?"
"I thought you were gonna offer me sex and drugs."
"Damn, that's the type of time you on?"
"Hell yeah, but D&B's could be the move. I never been."
"You're lying."
I shook my head, 'no'. "Never in my life."
"Well, we gotta go to a nice one then." He said, looking at my dead phone sitting on the couch. "Let me get you a charger."
He walked over to the kitchen and never came back. I only began to wonder what was taking him so long after ten minutes had passed. It was the look on his face when I joined him in the kitchen that bothered me, really. I took hold of the charger beside him that was already plugged into the wall and connected it to my phone all while his eyes were trained on me, unwavering. "What?"
"I. I don't know if you want to charge your phone anymore."
"I already plugged it up."
He continued to carry an expression that read panic or fear maybe confusion. It stood there on his face, too thick to be brushed away by any attempt. I could tell he was trying. It wasn't until my phone lit up with the apple symbol that I began to feel some sort of anxiety. I'd seen a glimpse of his screen so I knew he was on Twitter and it must've been about me.
"Cole." He called as I put in the pin to unlock my device. Already there were hundreds of missed calls and voicemails from Dame and Cecil. There were others but they weren't a priority to me. My finger hovered over the little blue box with the white space of a bird and he snatched the phone from my hand. He held it so tight I feared he may crush the screen.
"Cole. I. I know you don't really know me. But, trust me you do not want to go on Twitter."
"What?" I asked, reaching for the phone noticing his was still freely resting on the counter I grabbed his.
"Just, wait."  He paused, "There's some." He stopped himself like he did earlier— looking for the right words to say.  My heart dropped. Instantly, I knew what was happening. I knew what he'd seen. I looked at the screen of the phone in my hand and there was the video. I'd been waiting on it. But even though I knew it would happen eventually, I could never have been prepared for the way my mind was running right now. I really should've told Geoffrey about it, he would've been able to help before it went public. Fuck.
I walked away from him, headed to the front door. I put on my shoes and he was calling for me to stop. Calls that I ignored while readying myself to leave his loft apartment.
"Cole, hold on." He called again, rushing to me as I twisted the door knob, opening it. He pushed the door back, "hold on motherfucker, damn!" He grumbled. The door was closed and the two of us stood there. I was doing everything in my power to hold it together, to not seem bothered by the video that was being spread all across the internets. I tried so hard to keep it in. But, when he came to me and put his arms around me, a years worth of tears flowed out, moistening the shoulder of his tee. He held me tighter and I cried even harder. It's all over for me.
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
I pushed him away and gathered my dirty clothes, about to walk out the door.
"Cole, come on. I'm just trying to help you."
I'm just trying to help you. I'm just trying to help you. It was Six years ago. I remember. I was at a house somewhere outside of Detroit. Somewhere out in Redford. It was him at the door.
"I'm just trying to help you." He said solemnly. He kept looking behind him as we spoke.
"Then let me see her. She'll know who I am. She'll want to see me." I pleaded with him.
"She's not in a good mood right now. If you're trying to sell us something, you will have better luck next door." The boy said, slamming the door shut. I stood in front of the door for several minutes, waiting for something—hoping this kid would change his mind. But nothing. So, I left.
But the next day I returned in Cecil's car and I waited outside. It was Sunday. It was a gloomy day, but I could feel the sunshine from the inside out. I was finally going to see my mother. I'd been secretly paying a private investigator to see if she was still alive and on my fifteenth birthday, I learned that she was. I was given her first name and an address, but nothing else. It took me almost a year to muster up the courage to seek her out and speak to her, and today would be that day. Yesterday failed, but today I wasn't giving her a choice but to see me.
My birthday is tomorrow. My parents are throwing me a surprise party at the loft, but Cecil jr. slipped up and texted me instead of someone else and now I had an invite. But, this was my birthday gift to myself— to know my mother. To see her and talk to her.
I stared at him, finally recognizing his voice from all those years ago. He was the boy. He was the boy at my biological mother's house on my sixteenth birthday.
"How did you find me? You think I don't know who you are? You've been following me haven't you?"
"Cole." He started, staring right into my eyes. "I'm sorry. I-"
"What do you want?" I spat. I was becoming angry on top of all the other emotion I had flying around. I couldn't even wait to find out, I stepped away from him, into the hallway, closing the door behind me.
I sat in the car battling flashbacks of my sixteenth birthday party. I just couldn't understand why all those people were smiling in my face when I was crumbling on the inside. I had spent the night before unable to sleep because of this feeling I had. I knew, the moment I saw her that she was my mother and she knew I was her son— I could see it. I could see she was relieved to see me. To see that I had grown up and was healthy and safe and that was all she wanted. But she had a child. And it wasn't me. She didn't want me, and I knew that. And, she told me that.
I'm just trying to help you. I think he knew too.  He knew who I was and he knew who she was to me. And he knew she wouldn't want me. He knew she would tell me too. She threw me away. And, she kept him. And here he was, living across the hall from me. Until now, I never even wondered how long he'd been living there or how he knew where I lived.
My mind had quickly become bogged down at the growth of that the same feeling I had on the roof of that building on my 16th birthday— the feeling of regret and shame and anger and sadness all mixed together forming a concoction of life-threatening nothingness— was creeping back up on me for not only a new reason but a conglomerate of rejected feelings collecting all the way back from three years ago up until now. I can recall the death of my mother, Adjoa, just as clear as I can recall the last time I'd seen Lonnie face to face. It's a strange thing for me. I've lost so much in such a short span of time, but those newer connections meant the most to me. Where did the time go? I looked up and I was parked in the driveway of Jemaika's house. Where did the time go?
I climbed into bed with her, wrapping my arms around her frame, nestling my head into her shoulder. I could tell she hadn't fallen asleep yet. "Cole, what are you doing here?" She asked, softly. She sounded different. She wasn't angry like I expected her to be. "Where have you been? I haven't heard from you in a week and you just crawl up in my damn bed like this?"
I couldn't bring myself to respond. No words could explain what I'd been feeling or why. Nothing could describe the past week or so except that I needed to be alone; and no one wants to hear that.
"Are you okay?" She asked. We still haven't moved from the position we were in. My arms around her, her arms resting above mine while our bodies fit perfectly together. I admit it's obvious to me that we aren't soul mates, however loosely I use the term, or meant to be— but, if I can't have Lonnie with me for the rest of my life I don't want anyone other than J by my side. We may not mesh, but we do match. We have similar lifestyles and goals and I can rock with that. I think I might've ruined that chance with her, but I'm willing to try. I snuggled up tighter to her, not wanting to let another good thing go too soon.
I whispered, "Jemaika, baby please don't give up on me." half hoping she'd hear me and half hoping she'd already fallen asleep. She grabbed my hand and kissed it, but didn't reply.
It'd become well into the night and I was still wide awake. I closed my eyes and saw Lonnie. I opened my eyes and saw Cobe. I closed my eyes and saw my pops then looked away only to see both of my mothers standing beside me. I thought of Dame and the new baby. I thought about how I hadn't even seen her or checked on Sadé. I remembered that I was supposed to be calling Geoffrey back because I know how he worries about me. I wondered what Quincy looked like and why he was there with Cobe in the first place. I ached to hold Cheyenne because I remember what it's like to see somebody die for the first time. My conscience scolded me for not thinking of Oz sooner— he'd lost his son the same way he lost his wife. My mind ran on for hours and hours but I never moved.
I laid there battling thoughts and fears until the sun came up. Even then, Jemaika had risen and gone about her day, but I laid there well into the afternoon and then the evening. And just like before, days had passed and I'd realized I had done it again. But nothing could snap me out of this daze. My phone rang constantly and dinged all day and night. I'd look at it and put it back down and repeat the motion until I received a message from an unknown number. I opened the text which was a just a shared location. Then, another message came through.
August 13 at 8:43 pm
message from unsaved number (maybe L.J.)