Page 51 of Impacted by Love

Slowly climbing out of bed, I attempt to mentally prepare myself for whatever condition Asaiah will be in when I reach his house. Short of sucking his dick to soothe his pain, I have held him, fed him, bathed him, and listened to him, yet I'm grasping at straws, trying to find ways to ease the rip in his foundation. One of Ricky Dillard's songs about letting there be peace on earth echoes in my mind when I exit the bedroom.

God, please let peace rest upon Asaiah because I'm becoming weary in my efforts to nurture his heart.

"You're leaving? I thought you were taking a nap and then telling me about what's got you out of sorts," Mom asks when I reach the bottom level of the house.

"Sorry. I need to go see about Asaiah. Keep him and his sister lifted in prayer, though. Their parents died, and the storm has been tossing him around like a rag doll."

"My God! Okay. Let me pray now so you'll have the strength to do what you must for your man."

Lachelle Jeffries, you are the real MVP! You always know just what I need, and I love you for it.

Mom interlocks our hands before bowing her head, and I follow suit, exhaling the air gathering in my lungs.

"Father, in the precious name of Jesus…"

* * *

"Mama! Daddy!" I hear a loud, feminine wail upon entering the funeral home, and my eyes bounce from left to right before landing on the woman weakly smiling behind the desk.

"Good morning. How can I help you?"

"I'm meeting the Harrison family and was told their viewing time was at eleven," I hesitantly relay before my eyes balloon when another dramatic scream sounds.

"Mama! Oh, Mama!"

"Right this way, sweetie." The woman stands, escorting me toward where the commotion is coming, and it takes Herculean strength to keep from frowning.

Less than five minutes later, we're entering the chapel where Asaiah is picking Annalise off the floor.

"Oh God! Not my parents, Jesus!" Annalise cries.

What in the crackhead Whitney is going on?

Shid, she might have picked up what the senior Harrisons put down.

That's not nice. She's hurt over her parents.

Tuh. Nice and me aren't bedfellows. Now, let's focus on Annalise rolling around on the floor with her lopsided booty. I think her BBL might have deflated. I hope she's ready to write a check to cover the fat she's saturating in this good carpet like seasoning salt.

I choke down the shout of laughter that bubbles up in my esophagus at the last sentence, echoing in my psyche. I'm only fifteen minutes late, thanks to the unusual traffic coming to the funeral home. However, I didn't expect to walk in and see Annalise acting like a complete donkey. What's worse than Annalise's stage performance is her dry face. The guy Justin, who accompanied her, is sitting two rows back from the open caskets, nonchalantly scrolling on his phone.

"It's okay, Nal," Justin voices without the presence of his eyes.

Looking at the woman who brought me to the room, I stare at her before she shrugs and exits the room. My gaze follows her to the door before bouncing around the room to see if there's a video camera set up somewhere.

"Th-this—this is—too much," Annalise cries, collapsing to the floor again.

The award for the fakest display of heartbreak goes to… Annalise… absentee fucking… Harrison.

My conscience echoes the statement, and it takes everything in me not to agree verbally. Shaking my head, I move toward Asaiah, whose wet face and red eyes pull me like a magnet. Despite his sister's foolishness, my man is hurting badly, and it's my job to be here for him. Nonetheless, I want to karate chop Annalise in the throat for making this moment more unbearable for Asaiah than it already is.

"Asaiah," I softly call out.

Seeing me walk up and rub Asaiah's back prompts Justin to get off his butt because he moves to pick up Annalise. Like the bird she is, Annalise buries her head in his chest.

Lord forgive me, but this bitch is off her damn rocker.

"Thank you for being here," Asaiah leans over, whispering in my ear before kissing my cheek lightly.

---