Page 101 of Ony If It's You
Without speaking, I trekked down the hall to my childhood bedroom and abandoned my bag. My pops would probably always have the room in his crib the exact way that it was because he had detachment issues although he would never admit it out loud.
His room door was cracked and the light was on, so I figured that he was in there. I could hear him and someone talking in hushed tones when I got closer.
“I have to tell him, Jerry. It’s well past time.”
That was the voice of Ms. Phyllis. What the fuck were they in there talking about?
“No, you don’t, Phyllis. The boy is grown now, it makes no sense to say anything now.”
“Whose fault is that, Jerry, huh? You promised that we would sit him down at the age of ten, but every year you had a new excuse and moved the timeframe!”
“Because it wasn’t important! He was doing fine without having a mother. Telling him would have just thrown his focus off. He grew up just fine and he’s successful.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s more than fair. At least you got to be there to see him grow.”
“He views me as one of your fucking concubines, Jerry. I’m his mother for Christ’s sake!”
Mother? Whose fucking mother? I didn’t even know her ass had kids.
“Phyllis, please. Javyous knows better. He may not have grown up knowing that you were his mother, but he definitely doesn’t view you as a concubine.”
My ears were ringing after hearing their conversation. I didn’t think that it was possible to be madder than I was after dealing with Kehlani and her baby daddy, but this shit here took the mothafuckin’ cake. Pushing the door open, I made my presence known. They both looked like deer caught in headlights.
“J-JV,” Ms. Phyllis stammered but tried to smile to save face.
“What are you doing here?” my pops asked.
“Whose mother are you?” I asked, ignoring my pops’ question.
“I-I, um, I—.” Her voice was shaking and she looked terrified as her eyes danced between my pops and mine. “Ja-Javyous, I?—”
“Phyllis, don’t.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growled at my pops through gritted teeth. “Answer the question, ma.” Her eyes grew to the size of golf balls. “What? That’s who you are, right? That’s what I should be calling you, right?”
“I wanted to tell you, Javyous,” she cried, finally finding her voice.
“When?” I tilted my head to the side. “When did you actually want to tell me because I can name millions of times that you fucking could have!”
She jumped at the thunderous sound of my voice. This was the first time that I had ever yelled at or gotten mad with her. She was always the person I could be gentle with and show asofter side to. She was there to talk a nigga through some shit and answer questions and shit that I had.
There were those times where I’d ask her about my mother and she always played stupid like she didn’t know shit and would always tell me to go ask my pops. Shit had me on fire.
“Baby, I wanted to, I did.” I stepped back and gently knocked her hand down when she tried to touch me. “Javyous, please.”
“Son, I—” my pop started, but when he went to stand from his chair I shoved him back down.
“Don’t say shit to me, nigga,” I spat. “How many mothafuckin’ times have I asked your ass about my fucking mama or her family?”
“JV, I?—”
“How fucking many?” I growled, cutting him off.
“I-I don’t remember, a few.” He shrugged trying to downplay the situation.
“Enough times for you to tell me she was right in my fucking face.”
