Page 42 of Forbidden Love

“Nigga it’s something in my stomach that’s growling. Something in my gut yearning to taste them ribs and potato salad that I brought to this shit.” He sucked his stomach in then released it.

“Sit down and rap with me, nigga…that shit not done yet.” I snatched the blunt from behind my ear and sparked it.

Fatz sighed and mumbled underneath his breath some shit that I couldn’t make out. He eyed a crate that was a couple of inches away from me. He took a seat on it and spread his legs wide. His belly rose and fell beneath the oversized hoodie he wore. He dug into the front pocket of his hoodie and snatched a honey bun out. Fatz just eyed it for a couple of seconds never ripping it open. That was a red flag in itself to me.

He stared at nothing in particular as I eyed him. When he glanced up at me, I saw the look again in his gaze that bothered me. His eyes were soulless and dark.

“Talk to me, Fatz.” I pressed him.

He didn’t look at me right away. He blinked and chuckled as if I was the one with a problem.

“Nigga, why the fuck you keep asking me that shit? I’m simply trying to go outside and shoot some dice and eat. Ain’tshit wrong with me.” This time there was no humor in his tone of voice.

With me, Fatz always kept shit light. He loved to joke and make light of any situation.

“You ain’t touched that honey bun yet…that’s how I know yo greedy ass is lying to me.” I chuckled dryly.

He looked back up at me with hollow eyes.

“You been quiet all week long,” I added trying to get him to open up.

“I ain’t know you looked at me like I was a part of the Eastie entertainment committee.” He scoffed, stuffing the honeybun back into his front pocket.

“I ain’t joking nigga. I know you well, something is off about you. I’m your brother. If something is wrong, you need to say it so we can figure this shit out. You sitting there staring off into space and shit like your forgot how to exist.”

Fatz just stared at me, something flickered behind his eyes momentarily as he licked his dry lips.

“Ain’t nothing worth mentioning. I’m good, you got enough to be worrying about. Real shit, ain’t nothing that I ain’t been through before that I can’t get through today. My mind just be fucking up sometime. Got to get my shit together mentally, that’s all.”

“What about your mind, Fatz?”

He didn’t speak for a long time, his big frame hunched slightly forward. He placed his elbows on his knees. I wasn’t going to push him, I understood that it sometimes took time to express yourself while trying to search your mind for the best way to explain what was going on.

“You ever feel like…you been sad so long that it just feels normal?” His voice was low and flat. I wasn’t used to hearing him sound the way that he did in the moment.

“I ain’t talking about no heartbreak shit either. I never had love from a woman, and I probably never will. Neither is it about money, my crackhead ass momma nor the block. This feeling that I feel on and off come in fucked up waves. I force myself to feel good about shit when I’m around you. I even pop a perc or two just to alter my mood. Today…I woke up and it felt like a nigga chest was too heavy to stand. I tried to eat, and it didn’t hit the same. I smiled when I saw you…but it pained me to do that. I be feeling doomed sometimes…like I ain’t meant to be here.” He dropped his head and started to rock back and forth.

I stayed quiet and watched him take in short breaths.

It started when I was young…” He started tapping his fingers against his thigh.

“It got worse when my momma used to disappear for days and sometimes weeks. I’d sit at the window waiting. My belly would growl until that shit hurt. I’d get paranoid and sad all in one thinking that maybe she wouldn’t come back. I’d always think the worse about her leaving for days, then think the worse for my existence in the process. After so long it felt like I trained my mind to think all kinds of fucked up.” He let out a bitter chuckle.

“I used to steal food from school just to eat it at night. Raft didn’t know shit, and I started to hate him and you. I felt like he loved you more, wondered why he never would pop up when she left me all them days. He always popped up with you in tow on her good days to say what’s up and drop off a couple of bands. I wondered why the fuck he didn’t noticed that she was a fucking crackhead. He should have known that all that money wasn’t going to me. Her ass would do one good deed with the money, that was buy up food and me a couple of fits and shoes so I could look fresh for the next time his ass came back around. I let that hate go for y’all when he finally came to get me.” Fatz didn’t pick his head up.

“But back to this feeling, bro…” He tapped his chest.

“That empty shit that I felt back then…never left me. I just learned how to be funny as fuck around it. I taught myself how to shoot through it…but it’s still there, Sol. Every day, it’s like sitting in a room with no windows, and even when people knock on the door, I don’t got the energy to answer.” He sniffled then wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I think I’m just growing more tired every day, man…” He looked up at me.

Before I could speak, we heard gunshots real close. Me and Fatz jumped up at the same time as our instincts took over. No words needed, I grabbed my .45 off the table just as he pulled his chrome from under his hoodie. We moved fast toward the side exit. My blood was already hot as the anticipation took over me. We pushed outside and then saw multiple cars skirt off. Across the cracked pavement of the rec center’s parking lot were two bodies sprawled out. A couple of nigga’s had their guns out while some stood behind whatever they could shield themselves.

“Who the fuck you think that was?” Fatz stepped beside me.

I squinted my eyes just as all of my men walked toward the two dead bodies. I could hear sirens faintly as I glanced over at Fatz.

“It was Casper, nigga tryna send an indirect message on some bitch shit. Let’s be out.”

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