Page 42 of Low love Low fidelity

“About me playing again! The fuck!” he roared.

I blinked deeply, rearing my head. The basketballLeague. The professional basketball association. They’re going to let Kelvin Richardson back into theLeague?

“Kelvin, that’s not going to happen.”

“And how the fuck do you know?” he demanded so harsh and loudly, his thin frame twisted on one foot.

I remained calm. “Because one of your vertebrae shifted out of place because of a stress fracture in the bone.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking dummy, Len!”

“I’m not.”

“Then why would you say shit like I don’t know my own medical history?”

“I don’t know. Maybe for the same reason you brought up playing again.” A car accident while he was high caused Kelvin a severe spinal injury early into his second season with theCharlotte Hornets. He had to have surgery, which improved his condition, but couldn’t repair what was needed for Kelvin to play. He still suffered from back pain. “Your injury won’t allow it.”

Kelvin waived me off dismissively. “I’m not about to stand here and listen to you try to break me down.” He scoffed. “Picture that. A broke bitch from East Orange, New Jersey, who I pulled out of her humble circumstances, and paid her tuition for two degrees. I go down, and now you think I ain’t shit. You think you can snip my balls. You wanna know why I crashed last week? It’s because I’m drowning, being married to your miserable, controlling ass. Out of all the girls dying at a chance with me, I let my agent and management team convince me you were the best choice to marry. I knew they were wrong.” His long arms shot up in the air. “And look at me now, just as miserable as you.”

“You don’t have to be with me, Kelvin. No one’s forcing you to stay,” I tried to reason with him.

“Because I’m down! I’m trying to get my shit together. But you don’t believe in me. My own wife never believed in me. She only believed in the money I was getting when I got drafted. Now, you got my nephew here brainwashed, so he don’t believe in me either. You got my momma here, giving me the side-eye every other day. She’s starting to not believe in me, too. Lennox, you’re like a fucking cancer. You think you’re special but you’re really not.”

“Oh, no?”

He snickered. “Hell no! You may have good hair and be light-skinned, but you ain’t all thatpretty—”

“Hey!” Scott shouted.

I raised my hand to silence him. These were verbal bullets used frequently when Kelvin was low in spirit. I’d turned numb to them after year three of him being let go from theLeague.

“Shut the fuck up, Scottie. She knows it’s the truth. Trust, when you grow up and start getting girls like your dad and I did, you’ll see. Your uncle chose the bottom of the barrel. Her pappy’s a goddamn thug. And before her grandmom lost her mind, she tried to groom this motherless child into something great. Too bad I didn’t leave you there in that shithole of a town, and let her finish the job. You ain’t nothing special, Len. Nothing. I can still line the block with badder bitches than you with this fucked up back.”

“You’re full of shee-at, Kelvin,” Kelly-Ann hissed. “Full of shee-at, just like your daddy.” She shook her head.

“My daddy?” He smiled, reminding me of the ghost of his natural, good looks. Kelvin Richardson was presumably the total package back in hisPrinceton Universitydays. Good looking, mulatto kid. A by-product of a Black father and white mother, he had the most alluring features. Something a young girl’s heart couldn’t resist. “My daddy liked white-trash girls. Irving may not have fallen far from that tree,” His attention rolled over to me as he pivoted in stance. “But I had the sense to try out Black trash. You limit my money and then berate me for not having a job because of my injury. How in the hell am I supposed to win in life with this kind of fucking negativity around me? I’m out, man. I’ll just figure the shit out myself. I’m used to it.” In classic fashion, Kelvin turned to leave, after making a spectacular production of feeling sorry for himself.

“Kel,” I called out to him. He turned back, hand on the screen door handle. I dug into my purse for my wallet. I pulled out all the cash I had. In true addict’s fashion, my husband leaped around and took lunges toward me. I held the money in the air, stalling. “This will be my last time giving you money. No more having you as an authorized user on my credit card. No more allowance at the top of the month. No more sob stories of you being in pain. No more tragedies of you being assaulted or robbed. I’m no longer enabling and covering for the drama that is this household. Starting with this exchange, I’m done.”

Kelvin snatched the money from my hand so fast and violently, he scratched me. My first instinct was to haul off and hook his ass, but I caught myself. I knew he meant to be rude, but not to scratch me. Along with every piece of shit this man had slung on me since I agreed to marry him, I swallowed this, too.

For the last time…

“You fucking done,” he mumbled. “I been fucking done with your controlling, bitchy ass. You can suck a dick!” That’s all I heard before the door was slammed closed.

“I swear to God, I love my uncle, but I hate how he treats you! I wish my dad was here. He’d beat his ass!” Scott cried. Again. The little guy cried. “This is why I thought you weren’t coming back from Jersey. You’re strong, Lennox. Too strong to keep taking shit he shoves your way!”

Initially, when Terry went to prison, it was arranged for Scott, who was three at the time, to live with her mother. And he did, for some time. However, Terry’s mother lost the home that had been in their family for over seven decades, and the court forced them to arrange for better housing for Scott. That’s when Kelvin and I stepped in. Well, I’d stepped in. Kelly-Ann had been living with us, so she couldn’t exactly take on custody for anyone. Kelvin had been indifferent, but I always thought Scott was a good kid with horrific circumstances. They were ones I could relate to.

While this episode was light-weight in comparison to Kelvin’s tirades when tweaking, it was sad that he’d been separated from his parents due to tragedy, and was now living through trauma with us. Just sad.

As I gathered him into my arms, I gaped Kelly-Ann’s way. She couldn’t even look at me.

But that was fine. As I told her son, no more.

I stretched out on the chaise portion of her new sectional. Pulling my arms up, I folded them over my face as I grunted.

“Mmmmhmmm…” she hummed from across the room as she knitted something with a soft yellows and blue yarn. “That look like a heart issue.”

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