Page 28 of Girl, We Go Together
“Ma!” Omari’s voice cracked with a rawness that held panic in it.
I caught her as she fell, my arms locked around her petite frame. My mind was a roaring storm of rage and disbelief. As quickly as the tires screeched, the truck had vanished, burning rubber down the block. Fresh had really done it. He’d just signed his own death certificate.
“Ma! Stay with me. You hear me?”
My voice was hoarse, and my words broke as I pressed my hands hard against her side. Blood ran warm and steady through my fingers, soaking everything. My mother’s silver hair was sticking straight up, and her breath was shallow as fuck, whichscared the shit out of me. Omari was yelling and pacing with his hands on his head.
“Call somebody! CALL somebody, man!”
Cayla was already on it while crouched low beside us. Her phone was pressed to her ear as she shouted at the dispatcher. Her voice was trembling but steady.
“She’s been shot! Please hurry!”
Around us, the party dissolved into panic. My drunk uncles were stumbling toward cars, my aunties screaming. People were running in every direction, and all I could hear, all I could feel, was my mother’s blood pulsing out under my hands. I looked to the street. Although the black truck was long gone, the statement was clear. Fresh didn’t even have to say it. I knew this was his message.
“Stay with me, Ma… please…” I whispered against her hair, rocking her in my arms like I was a kid and not a man.
Her eyes fluttered, and her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she coughed up blood, which made Omari panic more. Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting sharper through the night the closer they got. Omari dropped to his knees, finally, gripping our mother’s hand tight.
“Don’t you leave me, Ma! Don’t you leave us like this! Where the fuck is the ambulance?”
Cayla reached out and started brushing my back with her hand. She was showing me that in the moment, she was here for me, even as her own tears streamed. I could tell she didn’t know what to do; hell, none of us did, but she stayed. She rubbed harder to let me know she was present. I could tell that she refused to let me drown in it alone.
The paramedics rushed into the parking lot. They pried Moms from my arms, shouting medical jargon I barely registered.
I stumbled back as I let them work. Watching them load Moms into the ambulance was like watching the ground disappear under me. And in that moment, standing there in the flashing red and blue lights while inhaling the smell of gun powder, I made myself a promise. Fresh thought he won tonight, but I was going to make sure he never breathed again, not after this.
The hospital lights were too bright, too sterile, and were burning into my eyes like they were mocking the dried blood on my hands. Omari was pacing the length of the waiting room like a caged animal, his fists clenching and unclenching. He was never the level-headed one, and tonight he displayed it. Cayla sat off to the side, quiet but still letting me know she was here for me by small moments of eye contact every here and there. She kept grabbing at her calf, and I knew she must have injured it more when I pushed her to the ground. I didn’t have it in me to check on her right now. My biggest concern was my mother.
The automatic doors opened, and the doctor walked toward us, his expression already telling me everything before he even opened his mouth.
“I’m sorry…” His voice was flat and practiced, but it cut straight through me. “We did everything we could, but… your mother didn’t make it.”
The words slammed into my chest like bullets. My knees went weak, but I refused to fall. I couldn’t. Omari wasn’t so strong. He slammed both fists against the wall and let out a sound that was half-cry, half-roar.
“No! No, man, no!”
His shoulders shook, and for the first time, my little brother looked like a boy again. He looked like the little nigga who used to wreak havoc in the house, all because our parents used to let him. All because he was the baby. I knew that tonight would leave him broken and lost. I just stood there. Frozen. My jaw locked so tight I thought my teeth would crack. I didn’t cry. Honestly, I couldn’t. I opened my mouth to let some of the steam in my body out, and my throat burned with it, but all that came out was silence.
Cayla rose slowly, like she didn’t know if she had the right to come near me. But she did anyway. Her arms slipped around me from the side. Her warmth pressed against my cold body while her head leaned against my shoulder. I didn’t move. I didn’t even hug her back, but I didn’t push her off either. I just stared at the floor while her tears wet my shirt. The doctor murmured something about paperwork, about needing us to follow him, but I barely heard it. I didn’t even pay the nigga no mind because paperwork was the last thing on my fucking mind.
Omari slid down into one of the hard plastic chairs. He had his elbows on his knees, and his hands gripped his face like he was trying to rip the pain out of himself. His breathing was ragged and loud in the quiet waiting room. I broke free from Cayla’s embrace and took a seat beside my brother. I appreciated her wanting to be there for me, but the demon I had to bring out to exact revenge was one I didn’t want her to witness.
“They killed Ma, bro,” Omari muttered with his voice cracking. “Fresh killed Ma.”
The words felt like fire in my chest. I turned my head in his direction and locked eyes with him. There wasn’t a trace of doubt between us.
“He did this,” I said low and steady, “And I’m going to make him pay for it.”
Omari’s hands dropped from his face. His eyes were red, wild, and desperate, but there was steel there, too.
“We can’t let this slide, O. We can’t. You hear me? We gotta put this nigga in the dirt.”
Cayla shifted in the corner, like she wanted to speak but didn’t dare. I was sure she could feel that this wasn’t something she could reach into. This was blood business. Straight street shit. No back rubs could help me in this situation. No encouraging words could tame me. I leaned forward and placed my elbows on my knees before opening my mouth. My voice was calm but cold enough to chill the air.
“We can’t rush this. Fresh thinks he's smart. He thinks he can run down on us and shoot at our family? I’m pretty sure those bullets were for me and you. He moved sloppily and loudly.” I shook my head. “We gotta be smarter. We gotta move quietly and accurately,” I paused, letting the weight of it hang heavy, “when the time is right, we're gonna bury him.”
Omari’s fists balled tight. He nodded in a single sharp motion, like he was sealing a deal.
