Page 96 of Falling Into Gravity

Quesha looked away, eyes glossy. “Then what happened?”

“You know what happened,” he glared, daring her to take a walk down memory lane. “We ain’t make it. We broke each other down so far we forgot how to be whole.”

She sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “You look whole now.”

Malik exhaled through his nose. “That’s ‘cause I’m finally tryna be.”

Then he turned and walked out without another word because talking to Quesha never did any good. It always took him back to the night when he took Bren’s daddy out—the night he had to get his get back because they shot up the place, leaving Pharoah in a wheelchair and Jules dead.

Bren was back on the couch, juice box in hand, leaning against Pharoah’s wheelchair, humming to herself like nothing was wrong. Like Crescent hadn’t already sunk its claws into her little world.

Malik tossed the money envelope onto the coffee table without looking back. That was for Pharoah’s therapy.

Then he walked out the door, stomach heavy, eyes burning, one step closer to change—but still not all the way there…not yet cause Crescent still had it’s claws in him too.

Another night on the phone with Aku. He could hear her breathing but it was drowned out by the screams of Pharoah and Jules’ Mama…screaming from the porch, screaming inside the ambulance, screaming at the church, and prayers that turned into wailing.

Malik sat in his bed. It creaked under him, everything felt hollow. “I can’t sleep,” he mumbled into the phone.

Aku’s voice came in soft. “What happened?”

He didn’t say anything, just gripped his head trying to calm his brain.

“Malik?” Aku’s voice drifted through the speaker, laced with concern. “You still there?”

“Yea,” he murmured, “still here.”

“You been quiet.”

“I been thinkin’.”

“About?”

He paused, letting the silence crawl before saying, “About how shit don’t really change. You can write code, build somethin’ that could change lives. But you still gotta go back to the same four blocks where dreams die every day.”

He exhaled the breath he’d been holding since he left Pharoah’s.

“Earlier I saw this lil’ girl— my niece--real smart, full of mouth. Whole face looked like somebody I used to know - same nose…same eyes. She threw up a set like it was a magic trick, said her Granny taught her. Had on light-up sneakers while throwin’up a gang sign. I couldn’t breathe for a second. Like,reallycouldn’t breathe.”

Aku didn’t interrupt. She just let him go.

“And her mama…she laughed like it was cute,” he added. “Like it was somethin’ to be proud of. Like teachin’ a baby how to bleed early makes you real.”

Aku sighed, “That shit hurts, huh?”

“Hell yea.” His voice cracked a little. “It fuckin’ hurts bad because I wouldn’t want this for my seeds.”

Aku wanted to take away his pain, but knew she couldn’t. Instead, she decided to reveal her own stuff. “You wanna know something I’ve never said out loud?” she asked.

His jaw tensed. Then he nodded once. “Yea.”

She sat up straighter, eyes never leaving his. “French ain’t my real daddy.”

Malik blinked. “What?”

She gave a short laugh, like the truth still tasted strange on her tongue. “Found out when I was sixteen. Some random ass DM on Instagram, from cousins I ain’t know I had, said their Uncle Drew was my real dad, told me he and his brother Dan Dan got killed, and that supposedly… my family had somethin’ to do with it.”

Malik’s brow lifted. “Damn…”

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