Page 34 of Impacted by Love

"Irrelevant, just like your rebuttal. Now beat your feet before I do it for you, Dad," Asaiah sarcastically warns.

"Andre," the woman pleads, and the man looks in her direction.

"For you only, but we aren't done, so one way or another, we're gonna accomplish our mission," the man vows.

My leg bounces wildly when the couple and Asaiah head in my direction. The glower on Asaiah's face is identical to the one worn by the male, which incites pounding in my chest reminiscent of an African drum. When Asaiah and the couple enter the vehicle, my breathing feels cut off, causing my chest to tighten and burn. I'm like a mannequin, unsure if I should say something or simply keep quiet when the internal temperature becomes thick with tension. A second later, the vehicle is heading out of the projects.

"Hello," a feminine yet gritty voice says, and I turn to acknowledge who I know is Asaiah's mother.

"Hi," I say weakly.

The woman's lower eyelid is dark enough to resemble a black eye, and the hollowness within her eyes instantly pricks at my heart. The wig covering her head has seen better days based on its haggard appearance. Her lips are crusty and in desperate need of moisture beyond what any form of liquid could provide.

"Do you have eighty dollars, sweetie? Me and my man can work it off. You look like you could use some head or?—"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Asaiah shouts in a booming timbre, which has me afraid to move.

"Hell nah, she ain't kidding. You stopped us from getting what we needed from that other woman. Shid, we need our fix," the man interjects before chuckling.

Did Asaiah's mother really proposition me? Jesus!

"Either y'all sit back there quiet as church mice, or I'm taking both of you to RPD," Asaiah threatens through gritted teeth.

"I really don't see?—"

"Don't say another fucking word, man. I swear to God." Asaiah's voice is a mix of aggression and something unidentifiable, which has me turning back to the front.

A chill black silence surrounds the interior, and I gaze toward Asaiah to assess him. The white knuckle grip Asaiah has on the steering wheel matches the clenching of his jaw and frown lines resting on his forehead. Asaiah's gaze is on the road, and my stomach churns with anxiety and frustration on his behalf. An hour ago, Asaiah had been jovial and happy while we enjoyed each other's company. Now, he appears to be on the brink of an explosion, and I feel bad for being unable to change his situation. My knowledge of Asaiah is so new that I had no idea he was dealing with this situation.

NA meeting… not for me.

The memory from the day Asaiah and I were stuck in the elevator discussing our reason for being in the building nearly freezes my blood.

Oh my gosh. Asaiah was going to the meeting for his parents. Sheesh. This man.

The urge to cry hits me suddenly, and I disconnect from Asaiah, turning to look out the window to keep from succumbing to the desire. The tight knot mentally holding my tears at bay begs for release, forcing me to breathe in shallow, quick gasps. Watching the lines on the road passing quickly has my eyes straining and burning, yet I refuse to let a single tear fall. Instead, I close my eyes and petition God on Asaiah's behalf instead of giving in to the emotions swirling within me.

Dear God,

Asaiah's cup is overflowing with obstacles he's unable to plow through on his own. You are a burden bearer, a heart fixer, and a lifter of downtrodden heads. Right now, give Asaiah what he needs to handle this situation. I ask that You would do what only You can do. While I don't know how to intercede on Asaiah's behalf, I know You know the situation. Please relieve and release Asaiah from this burden. Lighten his load, oh God.

Amen.

Over the past seventy-two hours,I have been in a state of perpetual torment, and I'm unsure how to push myself out of it. My stomach has been queasy for the same amount of time, and my mouth hurts from the aftermath of clenching my teeth so hard. Hearing my mom basically offer to have sex with Onesti so she and my dad could get high sent an inferno of crimson through my bloodstream. Unable to face Onesti, I haven't called or texted her, and I have advised the security guard at work to tell her I was out of town on business. While Onesti isn't to blame for Mom and Dad's actions, I feel lower than I did when my mom let someone take my virginity for their fix.

Onesti is a good woman, and the thought of what she thought of the incident has me involuntarily retreating from her. I nearly broke every traffic law set by the city trying to get Onesti home that night. I could have gone the rest of my life avoiding the intermingling of Onesti and my parents. At the height of my emotional reaction was a humiliating, deflated feeling of losing out on a chance to be with Onesti. Onesti is a woman whose kindness surpasses what intertwining her life with a man with drug-addicted parents should warrant. Thanks to Mom and Dad's shenanigans, I'm sure I'm no longer gonna have the opportunity to discover how happiness would look on me.

"Damn," I whisper at the final thought echoing in my mind.

Sitting down my tumbler of brown liquid, I grab my phone and dial the number of the one person capable of handling my conundrum. When the ringing pierces my ear, I swallow the pain bobbing in the back of my throat.

"Brother Harrison, do you know what time it is?" My pastor's raspy yet heavy baritone vibrates through the line, and I hang my head.

"N-no." I have been drowning my sorrows in cognac since arriving home from work, and I'm still unable to numb or erase the continuous wayward thoughts.

The current time is a mystery to me, although in my present state, it wouldn't matter if I did. I need someone to ease the turmoil swirling within me.

"Hm. Okay. Let's unpack this dilemma you're in. What's going on?" Pastor Reece inquires.

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