Chapter 7
CHRISTMAS DAY
CHRISTMAS BREAK CONTINUES
Micah never imagined that on Christmas day, he’d be spending the morning at the doctor’s office.
He thought, in college, on Christmas, he’d be opening presents, giving his family presents–his grandparents who he missed a lot, even celebrating with his friends…
“If you look at the screen right… there,” the nurse pointed to the sonography machine. “You can see your baby,” she smiled as she ran the transducer across Kelia’s stomach. “And if you listen close,” she put a finger to her lips. “Shhh,” she told everyone in the room, so they could hear the baby’s heartbeat.
Kelia just smiled, almost feeling the tears in her eyes drop as she looked up to Micah who had his eyes glued to the screen. “Baby,” she almost whispered, grabbing his hand.
There were a million feelings and thoughts swirling throughout Micah’s head. The biggest one that haunted him since he found out the news was fear.
However, seeing the small fetus on the screen and hearing the baby’s heartbeat, he couldn’t help but feel a small wave of love and happiness.
It’s not what he wanted, but maybe it was what he needed.
“I know,” he smiled, squeezing her hand. “Es our baby,” he looked down at her, smiling, kissing her hand.
On the opposite side of the room, Kelia’s parents had hesitant smiles on their face. Michael and Sabrina just sighed as they stood in the background. “So, when will we find out the gender?” Melia, Kelia’s mother asked.
“Well, we can find out now–since you’re twenty weeks, we can go ahead and check that for ya,” the nurse said.
“Wait–me and Micah should discuss that,” Kelia told him.
“Why?” her father asked. “Well, let us jus’ find out then,” he spoke.
Micah just stared blankly.
Here comes both of our parents acting as if it’s not our baby in three, two…
“When is she due?” Sabrina asked. “We need to prepare for that time,”
“I also want to know a list of all the medication, prenatal vitamins, etcetera,” Melia spoke again.
Kelia and Micah both sighed in unison.
It was like they weren’t even their own people. “Yes, we can get all of that for you if the mother and father agrees to it, ma’am… and ma’am,” the nurse smiled and nodded to them both.
“Give us a moment to talk to our children,” Sabrina told the nurse, who just gave them a tight-lipped smile and nod.
“Yes, ma’am,” she told them, then removed her gloves and left the room.
Sabrina and Melia took the lead for the conversation while Micael Sr and Kameron left the room. “So,” Sabrina started. “We need to start discussing the plans for you two,”
“I agree,” Melia nodded as she sat on the bed beside her daughter.
Micah just stared as they talked, “First, about your living situation—you two will not have that baby and not be living together,” Sabrina spoke. “That looks horrible,”
“And you two need to discuss marriage–this out of marriage pregnancy already looks bad enough, but with you two being childhood lovers, not so much,” Melia spoke, but to Micah, he felt like the two were speaking more as their PR managers, rather than their parents. “I’m thinking, as soon as you graduate, you two need to be moving in together,”
The two just kept talking, but by this time, Micah had tuned them both out. He just looked and stared in his mother’s and Melia’s face, pretending that anything they had said, he’d heard.
A while later, Kameron and Michael returned to the room, “Micah!” Michael Sr called out to him, so he could also talk to Micah.
Micah was so tired of his life not belonging to him, but he didn’t know how to escape it, so he followed his father outside the door. “So… what are your plans?” he asked him.
Micah raised a brow as he put his hands in his pockets, “Plans for?” he asked.
“Making it pro–we need to talk about your plan of action,” he told his son.
“But, I’m already on the course of goin’ pro,” Micah told him. “You seen my stats, dad,”
“It’s not enough–I told you, Micah, you have to be the best,” Michael Sr emphasized, sitting him down at one of the benches outside of the room. “Starting with that one V one with Jeremiah–you need to beat him,” he pointed to Micah. “At the moment, he is your biggest competition,”
“I’m betta than et nigga,” Micah scoffed.
“So prove it–win that one V one, get the most points at homecoming, win homecoming king. Make this year, your year,” he put his finger in Micah’s chest.
Micah just kept eye contact with him. “Aight,” he told his father, taking his hand and shaking it sternly.
He now had a mission. Beat Jeremiah. Beat Michael Jr. Prove to everyone that I am great. Get everyone off my fuckin’ dick.
•••
After leaving the hospital, the two families went their separate ways.
Micah and Kelia had agreed to celebrate together in a few days when they could actually get some alone time, removed from all the chaos that surrounded them, involving their families.
The Parks family headed back to their mansion on the east side of the city, in a nice, gated community.
Michael Sr pulled into the driveway, groaning when he saw a familiar car. A deep sigh escaped him, “Fuck, I don’t want to deal with these people today,” he spoke, looking towards his wife.
Sabrina chuckled a bit, “They’re your parents, baby. Why do we go through this every year?” she asked.
Meanwhile, in the backseat, a genuine smile started appearing on Micah’s face.
He loved his grandparents.
He held some resentment towards his father for keeping them away for a good portion of his life, about his first ten years, then he allowed him to stay with them for a summer in middle school, and he considers it one of the best periods of his life.
They lived in the West End part of Louisville. Deep in the west, where people would refer to as the hood.
They had an opportunity to move from around there after Michael Sr started making decent money, and especially when Michael Jr went pro–he offered to buy them a house as he did his parents.
However, Michael and Nicole, yes, Michael Sr is originally a junior, but he changed his name after becoming an adult–Micahel and Nicole grew very fond of their home. It belonged to Nicole’s parents and her parents before that, plus, they were also found of the people that surrounded them, so they stayed in their small, two-bedroom home.
They just continued to renovate it whenever they could.
“I told you, you have to let that hurt go, honey. Your father isn’t going to be around forever,” Sabrina told Michael, and in the backseat, Micah paid no attention to their conversation, he just hopped out of the car, running up to his grandparents’ car.
“WASSUH, PAW PAW!” he yelled, seeing his grandfather get out of the car, to go help his wife get out.
“Wassup, grandson!” the real Michael Sr spoke.
Micah ran over to the two, pulling them both into a hug, almost smashing their bodies against their small Audi 2000. “I missed you to, Micah dawlin’,” Nicole kissed his cheek. “You need ta jus’ start sneakin’ ta our house–you know, we got da marry jane growin’ in the back,” she giggled, making Micah and Michael laugh as they group-hugged.
“Imma come more often, I promise,” Micah smiled at her.
“Plus, we wanna see et luh baby in the futcha grandson. Iss not often kids meet they great grand parents alive, able ta see them grow up too. We got some good yurs on us left,” Michael laughed. “Aye, son!” he called out to Michael Sr. “You raised a good one hur!” he cackled, patting Micah’s back harshly.
Michael Sr just sighed, thinking of how loud and ghetto his father was acting.
This was every few months when the holidays would come around. He hated it every time.
“Honey,” Sabrina squeezed his hand.
Michael Sr just paid the two no mind. “Hey, mom. Hey, father,” Michael waved to them both before just walking into his home.
Micah was annoyed, thinking how rude it was not to help his older parents into his home, and he did it often. Micah didn’t know what the issue was, but he didn’t like the way his grandparents were treated.
“I got it, ma,” Micah told Nicole, grabbing both of her bags. “I got the rest too, pops, jus’ give a sec ta put granny shit inna house,” he told Michael.
“I’m not decrepit, Micah,” Michael laughed as he grabbed both of his heavy suitcases. “Do you see the muscles, son? I may be a old nigga, but I’m not a weak one,” he joked, putting one of the bags down to smack his grandson on the back, making Micah laugh.
He just nodded, then proceeded into the house, carrying his grandparents’ bags to one of the guest bedrooms. He then hugged them both again before leaving to go to his own room, to have some peace and quiet for a few minutes before his parents inevitably get on his nerves.
Micah went into his room, locking it, and flopping onto his back on his bed.
He pulled out his phone from his pocket, unintentionally smiling when he saw a text message from someone.
Roommate 🖕🏽
> merry xmas ❤️
> i miss yo white ass a lil bit
Stop texting me bitch <
but merry christmas 2 u 2 <
i might miss you 2…<
> i know u do. 😂 not een worry bout da cap
Micah just rolled his eyes.
> also next semester im taking the 3d class.
> apparently they sculpt in there n shit. Look at yo class list imma send it to u
Micah just raised a brow.
This nigga tryna take art with me? Why? Who said U was even taking art?
Micah just thumbs up his messages and put his phone away, sighing and looking up at the ceiling. His eyes started to close for a minute, and right as they were closing, he heard a knock on his door. “Who is it?” he called out.
“It’s us,” he heard his grandfather’s voice.
Micah then hopped up from his bed to open, then door and let them in. He couldn’t help but smile and hug them again as they came in with gifts in their hands. “Y’all ain’t have ta get me nothin’,” Micah spoke as he sat back down on his bed while his grandparents sat on the small couch in his room.
“You’re are grandbaby, we suppose ta spoil you, Micah,” Nicole, giggled.
Micah just smiled, “Well, I got y’all gifts too,” he headed over to his dresser, grabbing the two small boxes. “Can y’all open mines first?” Micah asked excitedly.
“Of course,” Nicole smiled at him, watching as Micah walked over to the two, handing them both small, black boxes.
Nicole opened hers first, and she let out a gasp, seeing the diamond earrings inside. “Aww, Micah–why you get me somethin’ expensive like this?” she smiled.
“Because I love you–go head, pops,” he smiled at Michael.
“Shid, I like expensive gifts,” Michael laughed, opening the box, and revealing the watch inside of it. It was a white gold watch with a ring of diamonds. “Aww, damn, grandson,” he immediately stood to his feet, holding his arms out.
Micah hugged him again, smiling. “Y’all welcome. I appreciate y’all so much–I feel like y’all my getaway sometimes, so I wanted ta show et,” he smiled.
“Aww, my baby so grown-up,” Nicole really smiled, almost in tears. “Come sit between us,” she patted the space between her and Michael.
She then grabbed the bags that he got him, “You know your brother sent us ta Mexico this year, so of course, we got you all things–special things,” she told him, with a smile.
She pulled out a handmade necklace with a stone on it. She then said a small prayer, kissed the stone, then put the necklace around Micah;s neck, “For happiness, success, and ta achieve all your dreams,” she told him, rubbing over his chest.
Micah just smiled, looking down at the stone, rubbing over it. “Thank you,” he smiled.
He realized that the thoughtful gifts meant way much more to him. Jeremiah and his grandparents show him that.
“N I gotchu this,” Michael pushed the heavy box on the floor towards him.
Michael then threw him the box cutter that he had on his keys, watching his grandson open the box.
Micah opened it, almost instantly crying when he saw it was a pottery wheel. “You been talkin’ ’bout makin’ shit since you was in highschoo’, yet every time I ask you, whur yo shit at, you ain’t got nothin’ ta show fa,” he told him. “Set that shit up in the garage, go find a place in the city whur they’ll letchu cook ya creations in the luh oven thang,” he told him.
Micah nodded, smiling, only being reminded of the conversation he had with Jeremiah.
Then he thought of the texts that Jeremiah had sent him. Micah felt like it was a sign to start going after what he wanted. He would still pursue basketball, but it was time to do something that he wanted to do without the influence of his parents, just him.
“Thank you, I appreciate this so much Y’all don’t even know,” Micah wrapped his arms around both of them. His mind started to wander… “I’m jus’ so confused why father don’t fuck witchall fareal,” Micah shrugged. “I think y’all are amazin,” he spoke.
Michael let out a deep sigh. “Well… that’s a loaded question on Christmas, huh, Micah?” Nicole chuckled a bit.
“I’m sorry–”
“No, son.. You need ta know ya family history. It’s important ta understand why people act the way they do. I know you got a lot of questions as to why your father acts certain ways, that very different from us,” Michael sighed, sitting back into the chair. “While ya daddy was growin’ up…” he sighed. “Me n ya grandma was dirt poor ta make a long story short. We struggled,” he shrugged. “We was makin’ minimum wage, which had neva been enough ta live. We had two children. Ya daddy n uncle,” he sighed.
“You know ya uncle was your daddy’s big brother–they were very close. Your uncle turned ta the streets, n he got killed at a young age which is why you don’t know him because he died before you was even born. He blames us fa that… hell, I blame myself. If we wasn’t workin’ so much, if we got betta cards, we coulda been better parents… then ya grandmother had a drinkin’ problem when he was younger, sometimes we ain’t make rent, sometimes we ain’t make the light bill–it was hard, n by the time we tried ta get ourselves on track when he was in high school, he already disdained us, but it was our fault, so…” Michael drunk from the beer he had brought with him.
“He vowed ta us that he’d never raise his children that way–” Nicole started.
“Why the fuck are you fillin’ my son’s head with nonsense?” Michael Sr busted into the door. “This is why I never want you here,” he pointed to Michael who just sighed.
“Son,” Michael stood up and walked over to him.
“No, don’t come near me, just stop fillin’ my son with bullshit. He don’t need to know nothing about the shitty life I had growin’ up,” Michael Sr yelled.
“Dad, I asked,” Micah tried to diffuse the situation.
“It doesn’t matter, he still should have kept his mouth shut,” Michael Sr told him. “Now, I came to tell you all dinner’s ready,” he told the three, then left back towards the kitchen.
Micah turned around to his grandparents, “I’m sorry fa et,”
Michael sighed as his wife took his hand, “It’s fine, son. Let him get his shit out. If et will make up fa the past,” he told him, giving Micah a smile. “Meet us as dinner, okay,” he kissed Micah’s forehead, then his grandmother kissed his cheek before they left him in his room.
Micah just sat down on his bed, feeling anger surge through his body.
He knew that the past may have been hard, but to still treat them like that, Micah didn’t understand it.
•••
On the other side of the city, Jeremiah currently was at his father’s sister’s house with his two aunties and cousins, all having a big Christmas dinner.
“Aye, I’m so proud of my damn son,” Jeremy said as the adults sat at the table.
“Thank you, daddy,” Jeremiah smiled, adjusting his headphones a bit on his head.
He loved being at home because he could always wear them—they just made him feel more relaxed.
“Be proud of you too, Jeremy,” Tabitha, Jeremiah’s aunt, told her brother. “You really changed your life, and got control of you and your son’s–gave him a better life. One that he deserved,” she smiled.
Jeremiah just nodded, “N es why, I been savin’ the fuck up fa es gift,” he spoke as he stood up from the table. “Can you follow me, Daddy?” he asked his father with a big smile.
“Wait, Jerm,” Jeremiah’s other aunt, Jamie, spoke. She had a blindfold in her hand.
“Whatchu get Uncle Jeremy, Miah?” Jeremiah’s high school cousin, Jaylen asked.
“Y’all come see,” he told them, locking his arm with his father’s, and then guiding them outside of the house.
Once everyone was outside, Jeremiah held up his finger, as Jeremy raised a brow hearing gasps and cheers.
“You outdid yoself, nephew,” Tabitha giggled, clapping her hands. “Jeremy gon’ cry,”
“What the hell is it?” Jeremy groaned, growing impatient.
“Daddy, please,” Jeremiah chuckled as they stepped into the driveway. He just smiled, big, almost more excited than his father when he saw the brand new, all-black Lexus, sitting there with a giant resting bow on top.
Jeremiah pushed back his noise-canceling headphones, so he could fully hear his father’s reaction.
He wanted to experience it with all of his senses.
“Aight,” Jeremiah started, stepping behind his father, holding onto the blindfold. “You ready?” he asked.
“Yes, nigga—come on!” Jeremy shuffled impatiently, making Jeremiah chuckle.
“Aight-aight,” Jeremiah pulled off his blindfold.
Jeremy almost turned around and hit Jeremiah, for how rough he pulled the mask off, but he swore he almost felt his heart stop once he saw the car in front of him.
He slowly turned around, and Jeremiah just smiled at him nodding. “Hell nah,” Jeremy shook his head, feeling himself tear up.
“Hell yeah,” Jeremiah pulled his father in for a hug. “It’s yours, my nigga,” he giggled, patting his back, rubbing it a bit.
He then pulled back, holding his father by the shoulders, “Nut up, pops—quit et damn crine,” Jeremiah joked. “Ain’t that whatchu used ta tell a nigga fa we started goin’ ta therapy n shit,” he chuckled.
Jeremy just laughed through his tears, pulling his son back in for a tight bear hug. “Thank you, son,” he told him, kissing his cheek as he quickly held his head and patted him roughly on the back. He then turned around, “Woo!” he yelled, running to the car.
Jeremiah couldn’t stop smiling as he felt his heart beating quickly for how happy he was.
He was happy that his father was happy. “Lemme getta pitcha, pops!” he yelled out. “Get in it wit ’em y’all,” Jeremah told the rest of his family, pulling out his phone to take a few photos.
He also took some selfies to post on his Instagram, which he was verified on, being a ball player and a rapper.
Once he was done, he went to the passenger side of the Lexus, hopping inside, with his aunties in the backseat. “Sorry, boys—y’all gotta wait y’all turn!” Tabitha yelled out the window to their kids, high-fiving her sister in the backseat.
“Start this bitch up, Jerm!” Jamie told her brother.
“Damn, lemme enjoy lookin’ at my cah—you two will not be drivin’ a gahdamn thang,” Jeremy fussed to his sisters in the backseat, making Jeremiah laugh and shake his head. His brain then decided that noise was a lot for him at the moment, so he put his headphones back on, listening to some beats his producer sent him while his family playfully argued.
After the car was settled, Jeremy spent a while driving everyone around in his new whip—except Jeremiah stayed in the front seat the entire time.
The two ended up in front of Jeremiah’s aunt’s house, sharing a joint. “Aye—as your former coach, don’t smoke, but as yo daddy, nigga—let’s get lit a luh bit,” Jeremy laughed, putting on his Tupac playlist while they sat in the car.
“Aye, I like ta have fun, pop,” Jeremiah laughed, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness. “I’m glad we at this place now, Daddy,” Jeremiah looked over to him as Jeremy inhaled, almost making him choke.
He didn’t expect it to get this deep.
Jeremiah and Jeremy’s relationship hasn’t always been the best.
After struggling with abuse from being in the system, Jeremiah was traumatized and in some ways blamed his father for getting arrested and leaving him.
Jeremy on the other hand, was an almost year-released felon, with a child that he loved, but barely knew, and didn’t know how to take care of—and a child that seemingly hated him.
The complete opposite of what he felt for his child.
“Yeah, son,” Jeremy reached over and moved Jeremiah’s headphones, so he could pull him by the head into a hug.
He felt like hugs like those made Jeremiah still seem twelve and not twenty-two. His baby was getting too big. It made Jeremy so damn proud, but sad at the same time.
“I fucked up a lot—” Jeremy started.
“We fucked up, Daddy,” Jeremiah him off. “What we learn? Acknowledge our wrongs, but we ain’t gonna get no whut wit the self-depreciation. Es why Ion wanna hur no “Ion deserve es, son,” cuz yes, you do,” he felt his voice crack. “Ion know what typa nigga, whur I’d be if you ain’t take et step ta get me from et place, n you tried everyday fa me, even now, n look whur I am, Daddy. Not too many niggas like me at that place,” he felt his father wipe his face with his thumbs.
Jeremy just smiled, “Look whur the fuck you at,” he squeezed Jeremiah even harder, kissing him on the top of his head. “I can’t be a prouder nigga, on my mama—god rest ha soul,” he chuckled. “My fuckin’ son got me a cah at twenty-two yurs old. Niggas don’t even do et shit in they lifetime, son,” he smiled, looking out at his sister’s house. “You that nigga,” he told him, making Jeremiah laugh in his arms.
“That nigga, pops,” he held his hand out, dapping his father up.
•••
“Whur Micah at, by the way?” Jeremy asked Jeremiah as they walked back into the house.
Jeremiah raised a brow, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout? Why would I know whur et nigga at?”
Jeremy smacked his lips as they sat on the couch. “I invited him—I got him somethin’,” he pointed to the table, eyeing the signed Shaquille O’Neal basketball ball.
“You givin’ him yo Shaq ball?” Jeremiah asked.
Jeremy shrugged, “Well, neither of us really fuck wit no Shaq—you know I was waitin’ fa it ta really be worf sum, but I saw Micah the other day, figured I give it ta him,” he smiled wide.
“You jus’ wanted ta get rid of et mufucka,” Jeremiah shook his head, making Jeremy chuckle.
Feeling his pocket ding, Jeremiah pulled his phone out to check it.
My luh Boo
> i signed up 4 the class 😒
> n im atcho door
Jeremiah looked up at the door, hearing the doorbell ring. “You spoke et white-boy up, Daddy,” Jeremiah laughed as he stood up from the couch.
He went over to the front door, opening it up to reveal Micah standing there with a couple gifts in his hand.
Jeremiah couldn’t help but to smile. “Fuck you doin’ hur?” he teased him.
•••
about thirty minutes ago
At the dinner table, Micah and his family sat awkwardly as Sabrina served their food on their plates. Micah just looked around, looking at his grandfather, seeing the sadness on his face.
He still gave Sabrina a smile and a “Thank you,” once she placed some mashed potatoes and gravy on his plate, then moved next to his wife.
Michael Sr had his arms crossed with a glare. “So, we’re just going to ignore the bullshit that he was trying to feed my son, and still allow them at dinner, Sabrina?” he started, making Micah facepalm himself.
He wanted to speak up so badly, but he knew the consequences of doing that, so he stayed silent.
“Michael…” Sabrina sighed as she headed towards Micah’s plate next. “Please, it’s Christmas,”
“Please, son,” Nicole looked at Michael Sr with a pleading face.
“No!” Michael Sr banged his hand on the table, making it shake. “I’m tired of holding in how much I cannot stand you,” he stood to his feet, pointing to his father. “You try n come around hur,” his accent started slipping out, but he corrected himself. “You try to come around here and fill my son’s head up with nonsense with smiles on your faces, and bullshit as if you’re good people when my life was shit!” he yelled.
Micah just sighed as he continued with Nicole and Michael sat there listening to one of their son’s many tirades against them for how poor they grew up, and how they didn’t have much time for him because they were constantly working.
“I grew up wanting to be nothing like you–some days we wouldn’t even eat, n you two would just come home and fill our heads with lies!” Michael yelled.
“Dad, I don’t think he was try–” Micah spoke up. The words just slipped off his tongue, for he couldn’t hold his thoughts in his head anymore.
“Micah shut the fuck up, and get out—This is between me and the people who were supposed to be my parents. Give me a better life!” Michael yelled.
Only anger could be felt within Micah. He looked towards his grandparents. Nicole just shook her head, mouthing Micah just go.
Micah took a deep breath, standing to his feet. He then started heading towards his room, damn near stomping from how angry he was… on Christmas.
A day where he should be happy, celebrating with his family, and enjoying laughs… but not his family.
If you could call it that… That’s how Micah felt. It was hardly a family. They were coworkers—who hated each other.
Micah knew that everyone always had to serve a purpose to the family—to themselves.
He slammed his door shut, hearing yelling from down the stairs.
Pulling his phone from his pocket as he bit his nails, Micah checked his notifications, seeing he had a text from an unsaved number.
He smiled upon reading it was from Jeremy, Jeremiah’s father. And, he was inviting him over for Christmas.
Micah chewed on his lip a bit. He thought about whether he should go… He would like to see Jeremy… and him too. Micah guessed.
“Fuck it,” he shrugged, standing up and grabbing his keys. He walked out the door, finding the nearest outlet on his phone, to get some gifts.
Micah was tired of the constant darkness that he felt loomed over him. He felt like being with Jeremiah and even his father allowed some light to peek through the dark clouds.
•••
back @ Jeremiah’s aunt’s house
Micah just smacked his lips, pushing Jeremiah to the side as he took a step up onto the threshold. “I was invited by Mr Jeremy, so Ion gotta explain a gah damn thang ta you,” he stepped into the house, opening his arms wide, so he could hug Jeremy. “Wassup, Big Jerm,”
“Wassup, Micah,” Jeremy gave Micah a bear hug.
“Did I hur et correctly?” Tabitha came waltzing into the living room. “Micah? The luh boy who you use ta come home cryin’ cuz he beatchu in basketball?” she asked. “Or who got prom king, Junior and Senior yur of highschoo’,”
“Damn, Ian know a nigga was crine, Miah,” Micah laughed, turning around to face Jeremiah who was facing the door with his headphones on and his hands in his pockets.
“Ian listenin’ ta y’all if y’all rey emburuss a nigga,” Jeremiah smacked his lips.
“I know Woody Kent ain’t no luh pussy that he was cryin’ ova a luh title,” Micah chuckled as he put a hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder.
Jeremiah looked behind him, seeing Micah over his shoulder, almost eye-level with him. He just bit his lip, bending down, “You look pretty as hell, by the way,” he whispered in Micah’s ear before he turned around and walked away. “C’mon, my Daddy gotta gift fa yo goofy ass,” he waved Micah over who was a bit stuck after the compliment.
Micah just sighed, shaking his head. He knew Jeremiah’s tricks. He liked to watch him get riled up at his words. Not this time. “Aight, I got gifts fa Mr Jeremy… maybe yo bitch ass,” he trolled Jeremiah.
Jeremy just watched the two, smiling a bit. When they ready. He simply thought. “Aight, young nigga—lemme see it,” he chuckled before sitting down on the couch while Micah picked up his wrapped gifts off the table.
“I’m sorry Ian get the beautiful women or the kids anythang,” Micah pulled out his wallet. “Come hur, youngins,” he told Jeremiah’s cousins.
“It’s fine, Micah—n you don’t have ta give them any money. Them boys already spoiled,” Jamie told him.
Micah just smacked his lip, “Man, let ’em keep bein’ spoiled den, Ainty,” he chuckled, pulling out a few twenties for one and a fifty for the other. “Sorry, Ian had no opportunity ta get extra cash—y’all got cashapp?” he asked.
“I do!” Jeremiah’s cousin Jaylen spoke, running up the stairs to get his phone.
“Jaylen, jus’ lemme use yo shit, so I can get sum money,” his other cousin, Joshua attempted to whisper.
“Hey!” Tabitha yelled. “Watch y’alls gahdamn mouths,”
Meanwhile, on the couch, Jeremiah was in awe, looking down at the new microphone in his hand.
It was custom, red and black chrome with Woody Kent engraved on the side. He just looked up at Micah, seeing him leaning against the couch with his arms crossed. “You fuck wit it?” Micah raised a brow, asking.
Jeremiah just nodded, fighting the urge to pull him in for a kiss.
“What aboutchu, Mr Jerm? You like ya watch?” Micah asked Jeremy who just smiled, looking down at his white-gold, watch with a custom, red face.
“Es mufucka hard, son,” Jeremy stood up, pulling Micah in for a beat hug. “I would return it, but my sonson got me a mufuckin’ cah, so he kinda outdid you,” he said after pulling back and looking at Micah with a joking smile.
“Man, if he ain’t getchu a Hellcat, iss bullshit,” Micah joked back, making Jeremiah and Jeremy laugh.
“All jokes aside tho, I appreciate es, son,” Jeremy told Micah, making him smile.
His gifts weren’t usually appreciated by his family outside of his grandparents.
“You welcome, Mr Jeremy,” Micah smiled at him, watching As Jeremy brought over his gift.
“A signed, Shaq ball,” Jeremy smiled at Micah.
Micah just smiled. “Like, Shaquille?” he asked, and Jeremy nodded his head. “Oh,” Micah nodded, making Jeremiah turn his head and start laughing.
“Oh, y-you don’t like it?” Jeremy’s voice started shaking, sounding as if he was hurt.
Jeremiah just covered his mouth quickly, knowing his father was trolling him.
Micah just raised a brow, “Oh, shit–Mr Jeremy,”
Jeremy covered his eyes, sniffling and fake crying a bit, making Micah genuinely become sad. He felt so bad because he thought Jeremy was a good man.
Jeremy then popped up, uncovering his face and laughing loudly. “Got that ass!’ he laughed, slapping Micah’s shoulders. “I thought you told my son earlier he pussy? Da fuck is es?”
Micah just started laughing too, “Damn, take up fa yo goofy ass son then,”
“How the hell I catch a stray?” Jeremiah smacked his lips, feeling his phone ding in his pocket.
He looked down at the message.
+1502-446-4576
> Hey son. its dad. I’m out of jail
Jeremiah just stood still, staring at the text. He felt his heart start racing and his breathing increased. He couldn’t move, he was almost paralyzed as his mind traveled back to all the awful memories he had living with the man that called himself his ‘real father’.
Micah noticed his sudden change in behavior, and so did his father. “Jeremiah?” Micah asked concerned, going around to stand in front of him and look at his face, to which his eyes only grew wider.
“Son,” Jeremy put a hand on his back. “What is it?” he asked, and that’s when Jeremiah snapped out of his state of paralysis, hearing his father’s voice.
He turned around, “Nothin’, Daddy. I’m g-good. It was jus’ some luh shit,” he forced a smile.
In a family therapy session, Jeremiah revealed for the first time what his experience–his truthful experience of what went on when he was in foster care.
Jeremy broke down crying and apologized over and over to him again, saying how sorry he was for leaving him. Jeremiah knows Jeremy blames himself, and he doesn’t want to give him any more pain.
They were in a good place, and this was something he needed to deal with on his own.
Both Micah and Jeremy sensed the lie, but Jeremy just sighed and nodded. “Okay, son,” he knew the pain Jeremiah harbored inside of him, and he knew how closed off and stubborn Jeremiah could be.
Especially with his condition. “Imma just take a breather outside,” Jeremiah told him, then headed towards the door.
Micah looked between the father and son, then followed after the son.
Jeremiah was on his way to his car, feeling his chest start to get tight, and his brain felt like it was going to explode.
He didn’t understand why he would be contacting him.
What does he want with me? Jeremiah thought as he got into the driver’s seat, pulling out his stash of weed he kept.
He only really smoked socially–and clearly, when he was stressed to a high capacity.
Jeremiah only jumped out of his skin when he felt and heard the car door close; he completely was zoned out that he didn’t even notice Micah getting into the car.
“Fuck is wrong witchu?” was Micah’s first question. “Ian neva in my life seen Jeremiah shakin’ n panickin’. Yo daddy mighta let et shit go, but I ain’t,” Micah crossed his arms. “Shid, yo know mos’ of my bullshit–time ta get ta chattin’, bitch,” he chuckled, making Jeremiah cracka smile, wiping his face as he shook his head.
“Man,” Jeremiah chuckled. “I guess… a nigga do kinda needa chat back, huh? Iss only fair?” he laughed as he started lighting up his joint.
Micah shrugged and nodded, “Iss only fair–Wassup, Miah?” he asked sincerely. “Cuz, et nigga I saw in ‘er,” he looked at the door. “Et ain’t Jeremiah Kentwood,” he shook his head, making Jeremiah smile, unconsciously leaning over into his seat, trying to kiss him, but Micah put his hand over Jeremiah’s lips. “Stop, Miah,” he said more quietly, then Jeremiah raised up back in his seat, sighing.
“My bad,” he sighed again before looking back forwards. “Okay… so… I’m rey tell you sum that Ion really tell many niggas cuz,” he whipped his head over to Micah. “Niggas start actin’ foogazy afta you tell ’em,” he nodded.
Micah just stared at him with a brow raised, wondering what it could be. “Uh, huh. Hurry n light et joint up tho,” he rushed him a bit, making Jeremiah crack a smile.
Jeremiah lit the joint, puffing it a few times before passing it to Micah.
“I’m…” Jeremiah bit down on his bottom lip. “Uh.. I’m,” he tried again. “When I was young…” he tried to start off. “When I was young, they tol’ a nigga I was on the spectrum,” he sighed, taking the blunt back from Micah to calm his nerves.
“Like autistic?” Micah asked surprised.
Jeremiah nodded. “Yup,”
“Oh… I’m sorry,”
Jeremiah shook his head, “Nah, iss nothin’ ta be sorry fa–In fact, ets why I hate tellin’ niggas ‘cuz then they start treatin’ me like I’m a pitiful, stupid fuck who can’t do shit on his own–yet hur I am,” he held his hands up.
Micah just listened to his words. He then looked around and thought about how long he’d known Jeremiah.
I would’ve never guessed. He thought to himself.
“Micah jus’ say whatchu gotta n quick lookin’ like et,” Jeremiah chuckled, hitting the blunt again before passing it.
Micah just hit the blunt, shaking his head. “Yo sho? Ion wanna make you feel like nun of ’em niggas,” he told him, looking into his eyes.
Jeremiah just smiled, “You won’t,” he shook his head slightly as he kept eye contact. “Long as it’s outta curiosity, n you don’t treat me different because of it,”
“I won’t,” Micah said quickly, shaking his head.
“I know. Es why I’m tellin’ you,” Jeremiah told him. “Now say whatchu gotta,”
“Well… my first thought was I neva woulda guessed,” Micah confessed.
“Nobody do,” Jeremiah told him. “I learned how ta mask real good—et mean basically assimilate ta my surroundings. Like, I love basketball, but loud, continuous noise makes my brain hurt, so I—”
“Wear earplugs,” Micah said at the same time as him. “I always wondered why you did et shit,”
Jeremiah smiled, “It’s because a nigga can literally shut down in supa loud places—n the games are crazy—but I keep ’em half in, so I can hur y’all, but even the half-in, helps ta contain some of it—if you see me outside campus, I’m mostly always wit these,” he pointed to his headphones.
Micah just stared at him, feeling confused as to why Jeremiah opening up about this made him want to smile.
He fought it off though.
“Okay… but et don’t explain why yo ass was jus’ shakin’ n cryin’,” Micah switched the conversation back to the original one.
Jeremiah sighed, thinking he had escaped from talking about it. “Umm…” he got oddly quiet.
He just stared at the windshield, feeling his words get stuck in his throat. “When I was… younger, ’bout the first ten yurs of my life, I lived in fosta cur. Ta make a long story short, when I was livin’ wit this man, he abused me. Verbally, physically—a lot was ta do wit my autism—you know if it wasn’t fa some staff in my elementary schoo’, I’d prolly be more behind than I am,” he told Micah. “He would—” Jeremiah stopped, biting down on his lip from being a bit triggered.
Micah just looked at him, reaching over to grab his hand. He interlocked their fingers, rubbing his thumb over the skin of Jeremiah’s hand. “You aight,” he nodded. “You not back thur no more. Youn hafta keep goin’ if you don’t want to,” he told Jeremiah.
“Nah, iss coo’,” Jeremiah took a deep breath, squeezing Micah’s hand back, then lifting it to his mouth, kissing it. “Thank you,” he glanced over to Micah, then leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, making Micah’s face burn a bit.
“You welcome,” Micah told him, seeing as Jeremiah never let his hand go. For Jeremiah, Micah really had calmed him.
“It ain’t really much more ta the story,” Jeremiah shook his head. “I was jus’ in a bad situation fa a while, n the nigga hit me up today—talkin’ ’bout he my real father,” he told him, making Micah’s eyes go wide.
“What the fuck?” Micah blurted. “I’m—I’m sorry you were forced ta go thru et,” he spoke sincerely.
He didn’t realize Jeremiah had a tough time growing up. Most times when Micah would see him, Jeremiah was chill or smiling and laughing. He was always in good spirits, even despite their ‘beef’.
“Iss okay,” Jeremiah nodded. “I’m good now,” he smiled widely, making Micah blush.
Fuck, this nigga so fine— “Wait, what?” Micah blurted.
Jeremiah raised a brow, “What, what?” he asked. “I said, I’m good now,” he smiled again, chuckling a little bit, making Micah just look at him with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Stop lookin’ at my like et if youn want no problems,” Jeremiah returned the action, feeling himself grow in his pants.
Micah just laughed and shook his head. “You right,” he chuckled, letting go of Jeremiah’s hand, then looking forward towards past the house into the sky, feeling Jeremiah reach back over into his seat and grab his hand to intertwine them again.
Micah just looked down at their hands. He just shook his head, deciding to not say anything–In truth, his heart couldn’t help but to quicken every time they made skin contact…
•••
a while later
After hanging with Jeremy and Jeremiah’s aunts, the two boys headed over to Lamar’s apartment. Micah ended up tagging along because he’d rather be anywhere but home at the moment.
It’s not like his parents texted him to check up on him or anything… His grandparents did though.
“Iss rey be weird. ‘Em niggas hate me,” Micah chuckled, making Jeremiah laugh.
“They don’t hatechu… maybe… dislike?” Jeremiah laughed as he pulled into the parking lot outside of Lamar’s apartment.
“They only don’t cuz you was fillin’ they head wit bullshit,” Micah smacked his lips as Jeremiah fully parked.
The two then exited the car, running up the stairs.
Jeremiah was in front of Micah as he knocked on the door with two gifts in his hand, “Open up, nigga!” he yelled.
“Shutcho loud ass up,” Lamar’s muffled yell could be heard through the door. It swung open, revealing Lamar with a lit blunt hanging from his mouth as the music that was blasting in the background instantly increased, exponentially.
Jeremiah looked him up and down, seeing he only sported some black Santa pajama pants. He had his chest and toes out. “Dreya already hur in ha black Santa pajamas, nigga you late,” Lamar looked down, “N youn even gotcho shit on!” he took the blunt from his mouth to point and grab at his pants.
“They in my mufuckin’ bag, bitch!” Jeremiah held up his back. “Fuck you talmbout–I take friendsmas serious,” he chuckled, making Lamar laugh as he held his hand out to dap Jeremiah up, pulling him through the threshold, and raising a brow when he saw Micah standing behind him.
“Why you brought da pitbull puppy ta my cribo, Miah?” he titled his head.
“N you look like that fuckin’ purple lizard from Monster’s ink, bitch ass nigga–’scues me,” Micah walked past them, seeing Dreya sitting on the couch.
She was about to say something, but Micah cut her off, “Wassup, Andreya. Don’t een try n start wimme today,” he plopped down right next to her.
Both Lamar and Drey looked at each other, then Jeremiah, then Micah.
Jeremiah just had a smile on his face.
Honestly, seeing Micah like that just now just turned him on.
He just shrugged, turning off his headphones for a moment, “Turn et music down a luh,” he told Lamar, going to the bathroom, so he could change into his black Santa attire.
Lamar turned his speaker down from his phone, then sat next to Micah who was now in between both Lamar and Dreya.
“Why he bring you hur?” Lamar asked.
Micah shrugged, “I jus’… tagged along. Is et okay. If y’all really don’t want me hur, I will leave,” he told them.
Lamar and Dreya exchanged looks, then looked at Micah. “Nah, you can stay,” Lamar chuckled.
He and Dreya would observe the two. He found it odd how close they’d gotten the past half of a year.
“So you got yo black Santa pajamas?” Lamar asked him. Micah nodded.
“Jeremiah took me ta come get some. I know all about y’alls corny tradition,” he chuckled, making Dreya smack her lips.
“Yo face corny, nigga,” Lamar told him.
“Facts. Now go gear up. Roof roof,” Dreya barked at him, making Lamar laugh as he held his hand out to reach across Micah’s lap to dap her up for referring to his joke earlier about calling Micah a pit bull puppy.
“Fuck boffa y’all,” Micah pushed their hands out of the way, so he could get up. “Whur da fuck the bafroom at?” he asked them, n the two both pointed to the hallway.
After Micah and Jeremiah got dressed, they sat in the living room, and Dreya had a bottle of Don Julio Blanco, pouring each one of them a shot while Lamar rolled them up a joint to pass around.
Drey then sat back on the couch, passing down shots for everyone. “Aight, churs,” she held up her glass. “N murray Christmas, hoe ass niggas,” she added on as everyone took their shots.
“Gahdamn,” Micah shook his head, grabbing his chest.
“You a man now, Micah,” Lamar trolled, gaining a laugh from Micah.
“Aight, let’s play sum,” Dreya suggested.
“What kinda game?” Jeremiah questioned.
“A drinkin’ one, obviously,” Dreya spoke. “Neva have I eva, but if you neva did it, you gotta drink, if you have, you gotta tell the story about it,” she told them, grabbing some pieces of paper, a couple pens and a bowl. “Putcho questions hur,” she instructed.
“I’m scured,” Lamar chuckled. “Lemme roll a extra joint,”
The four of them spent a few minutes creating questions that they all put inside of the bowl, then played group rock paper scissors to see who would go first.
“Fuck,” Micah pulled a piece of paper from the bowl. The other three just laughed, watching as he started reading. “Never have I ever had sex in public,” he chuckled. “Uhhh… well, a few yurs ago, inna cah I got sucked up,”
“Damn, you n Kelia freaky,” Dreya giggled.
Micah shook his head, “Wasn’t ha,” he shrugged, making Dreya and Lamar’s mouth drop open.
“Damn, Micah a luh playa,” Lamar dapped him up.
Micah chuckled, “Nah, nah, I’m really not… I like bein’ romantic n shit. Iss jus’,” he shrugged. “I fucked up,”
“Yeah,” Lamar nodded in understanding. He’d been there before. “Aight, fa me, I was also inna cah–you know, lean da seat all the way back, n let ha get on top,” he smiled. “Go, Drey, I know yo hoe ass gotta story,”
“Man, gone–but, I mighta ate some pussy in the movie theatre,” she giggled.
“Y’all so mufuckin’ hoeish,” Jeremiah cackled as he put his fingers on his chin, rubbing it. “Well… which time should I tell?” he shook his head. “I guess, one time… I fucked es bitch in the back of a F150 while a nigga was drivin’,” he spoke casually, making the other three’s eyes widen.
Lamar just sparked up the joint, “I’m speechless,”
“Yo dick gon’ fall off,” Dreya chuckled, pulling a paper from the bowl. “Neva have I ever sucked dick,” she just smacked her lips as Lamar and Jeremiah laughed. “Y’all got me fucked up. Pour me my mufuckin’ shot,” she then snatched the bottle off the table. “Which one of you punks sucked dick n ain’t gettin’ a shot,”
Micah and Jeremiah both felt their hearts start racing, but… neither of them have done that. “Man, fuck you, n give me my shot,” Micah told her.
The game went on for a while more with the bottle almost being empty by the end, and the four of them laughing, smoking and playing UNO on the floor, yelling and screaming.
It was dark out, and Micah had finally gotten a text from his mother, telling him to come home. He just sighed, “I gotta start headin’ home now,” Micah stood from the table.
“Damn, we was startin’ ta like you,” Lamar trolled, putting an arm around Micah, into a headlock.
“Y’all love me, bitch,” Micah chuckled as the two started to drunkenly wrestle a bit.
Micah then felt hands on him, seeing that it was Jeremiah separating the two. “Aight, es enough. I gotta drive Micah back ta my house,” he told them.
Dreya just raised a brow with her hand in her pocket.
“Well, I guess Imma head out too then,” Dreya sighed.
“Noooo, Drey, watch es horror movie wimme,” Lamar asked her.
She just sighed and then went to go and plop back down on the couch. “You lucky niggas already in they pajamas,”
Jeremiah just laughed at the two. “I love y’all,” he hugged the both of them.
“Love you too, n don’t let et nigga get in yo dome, Miah. I mean et,” Lamar told him in his ear.
Jeremiah nodded, “Yeah. I hur you,” he told them, then started walking over to the door with Micah behind him.
“Bye, y’all,” Micah waved as the two exited the building.
Jeremiah turned around, seeing Micah just smiling. “You good? You need help?”
Micah shook his head, “I’m good.”
The two made it back to the car. Jeremiah got into the driver’s turning on the car, “You want me ta jus’ drop you off atcho house? I’ll bring ya cah home, n Uber back,”
Micah nodded, “Please,” he asked.
“Anything,” Jeremiah told him, and Micah smiled because he knew it was the truth.
“Thank you,”
“Of course,”
•••
Jeremiah pulled into Micah’s driveway. He parked the car, then looked over at Micah who was resting his head on the window, softly snoring. He then gently shook his shoulder. “Micah,” he called out to him.
Of course, it took a few times before Micah’s head finally popped up from the window. “The fuck?” he jumped, blinking repeatedly until his eyes adjusted. “Oh, shit,” he looked over at Jeremiah. “Thank you fa droppin’ me off,” he told him, then started reaching over to open the car door.
He was stopped by Jeremiah reaching over and closing the door back, “Nah,” was all he said before stepping out of the car and going around to open Micah’s door.
“Whateva,” Micah smacked his lips stepping out of the car. “Always thank you sumbody damn daddy,” he groaned.
Jeremiah just giggled, “Don’tchu say nun, bitch,” Micah told him.
Jeremiah just put his hands up, “Ian sed nun, Micah.”
He then helped Micah up to his porch as the two stood at the door, facing one another.
“I hadda good time today,” Micah told him as they looked each other in the eyes.
“Me too,” Jeremiah smiled, watching as Micah opened his arms for a hug. Jeremiah just bit down on his lip as he wrapped his hands around Micah’s waist, pulling him chest to chest.
“Wuss yo issue?” Micah furrowed his brows.
“You,” Jeremiah told him, grabbing Micah’s arms, putting them around his neck, then putting his hands back around Micah’s waist.
He looked down into his eyes, and Micah felt his body start to get hot. “Back up,”
“Why when youn want me to?” Jeremiah asked, leaning to softly peck his lips.
Micah just felt his eyes close, squeezing a bit tighter around his neck as Jeremiah slipped his tongue into his mouth. Jeremiah hummed, gripping his waist, sucking Micah’s tongue into his mouth which made him let out a moan. “You gon’ get me in trouble,” Micah whispered on his lips.
“We been in trouble, baby,” Jeremiah bit and sucked on Micah’s bottom lip.
The two kissed for a moment more before Micah pulled back a bit. “Never again,” he told him on his lips.
“Uh huh,” Jeremiah chuckled, not believing any of it. “You can’t resist me,”
Micah just smiled, shaking his head, pulling back fully, deciding not to look at Jeremiah before he just sighed and stepped into the black abyss of his home.
•••
about a week later
Micah now sat nervously outside of a building in his parked car.
He just tapped on the wheel staring inside as the sun shone down on his face, through his slightly tinted window.
“Et nigga would call me pussy right now, seein’ a nigga nervous,” Micah smacked his lips, thinking about his and Jeremiah’s conversations over the past couple of weeks.
After Jeremiah had gotten him some sculpting items for Christmas, Micah had finally gotten around to making a small sculpture.
It was something simple–a pinch pot. He was gravitated towards pottery and creating things that would have everyday functions and serve as artwork.
He wouldn’t put it in those words though.
His sculpture also finally convinced him to sign up for that art class next semester. He wouldn’t have any regrets about that.
Micah stared at the “Sculpt & Sip” sign on the front of the building.
He took a deep breath before turning his car off fully and stepping outside of it.
He walked up to the door, feeling his nerves increase upon seeing how much he stood out from the rest of the attendees.
They were mostly petite, white, women… a few women of color… no men. Not one.
And here Micah was a black man, albeit light skin, standing at six feet and one inch, covered in tattoos.
Micah just sighed, shaking his head. “I know they think Imma fuckin’ f*g,” he muttered to himself, but went in anyway, looking around and naturally sitting down to the only other black person in the room.
He quietly sat down, “Wassup,” the black woman next to him spoke.
Micah whipped his head over towards her, pointing to his chest. “Me?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Yeah, you, nigga. Who else?” she chuckled, making Micah giggle.
“My bad, wassup, baby girl,” Micah held his hand out, so she could shake it, surprised when she instead dapped him up. “Oh, okay,” he giggled. “Wuss yo name?” he asked.
“Tell me yours first, pretty boy,” she told him, standing up to put her apron on.
Micah couldn’t help but to look at her from head to toe.
She had brown skin, her body was full of curves. Micah noticed her eyes were a gorgeous shade of hazel that complimented her naturally red hair that was cut into a cute pixie cut.
“I asked your first,” he smiled at her. “Now, wuss yo name, beautiful?” he asked.
“Well… first, I’m a lesbian. You can look at me like et because… I’m sexy as fuck, duh, but don’t get it in et luh pretty boy head that you rey have a chance,” she told him. “And… my name Meilie. May–Lee… but spelled. M-E-I-L-I-E,” she continued.
Micah just laughed. He didn’t understand why she felt the need to spell and give a pronunciation lesson on her name, but Micah found her interesting… and fine as hell.
He just shook his head, deciding to focus forward on the instructor–of course, that would be hard when you were being served wine…
After the class listened and mostly silently, besides some questions asked, the class was left to themselves and the wine to create beautifully, drunken sculptures.
“So, what a nigga like you doin’ hur?” Meilie asked. “I’ve been comin’ a long time, n I neva seen nobody like you,” she smiled. “Hell, like me eitha,” she chuckled.
Micah just laughed, “Uhhh,” he started as he tried his best to focus on his pot. “Well… I’ve always wanted ta do art. I play basketball—”
“Wait—” she paused. “You neva told me yo name… whur you go ta school?” she asked.
“Uhhh,” Micah chuckled. “I go ta Louisville University, n my name is—”
“Micah!” Meilie shouted with him. “I knew you looked familiar… I go thur too,”
Micah raised a brow, “You do?” he asked. “N how Ian neva seen you? N not ta be cocky, how you jus’ figurin’ out who I am?” he asked.
His questions only pulled laughs from Meilie as she almost perfectly pulled and formed her clay pot. “Et was cocky as fuck,” she busted out laughing. “But I respect it,” she told him, really meaning it. “You know your power, n ta answer all your questions… yes, I go ta LU. I major in Art History, but I am an artist as well. I wasn’t sure of who you were exactly because… well, I’m an artist… I could cur less ’bout sports… and I know it’s kinda bad ta feel es way about your school, but I jus’ go hur. Ion too much give a fuck about school spirit. Too institutional fa me… I moreso cur about the people that slips between the cracks at big places like et,” she explained.
Micah couldn’t help but to just stare at her. He completely forgot what he was doing at the moment.
He just shook his head. “Man,”
“The hell type of response is et?” Meilie asked.
“The type whur I’m glad you a lesbian or I’d be in trouble,” Micah spoke honestly, taking a gulp of his wine.
Meilie just laughed, “You ain’t shit. I know you have a girlfriend, congrats by the way,” she told him. “Focus back on your pot. You were doin’ good,” she pointed to his stopped wheel with a half-made pot on top.
Micah just smiled. He returned his attention back to his pottery wheel. He put his foot back on the pedal as he gently put his fingertips back onto the clay to start building his pot.
“In all seriousness tho,” Micah continued. “I fuck wit everythang you sed. Ian neva met a girl… hell, a person et really think like you. I fucks with et,”
“So… I got a question…” Meilie spoke.
“Aight, hit me,”
“I huuuurrd… you room wit Woody Kent,” she blinked, biting her lip. “Mmm mmm mmm,” she shook her head, fanning herself.
Micah just raised a brow. He didn’t know if he was a little jealous, whether it was her fanning over Jeremiah and not him and because she was fanning over him. He was also confused because, “Didn’t you say you gay?” he asked.
Meilie just giggled, “Et don’t mean niggas ain’t fine. I jus’ would neva suck, date, or fuck one–es too much, but thankin’ a nigga fine, hell, straight bitches thank I’m fine all the time,” she shrugged. “Plus… I love his music. His last mixtape Meet me in The Woods is one of my favorite rap albums ever, n I promise,”
Micah just smiled. Usually in the past, someone fangirling over Jeremiah would have made him jealous, envious. Micah envied his joy and how people genuinely loved him.
It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t because of his status, his famous brother, his parents… just him.
However, Micah didn’t feel much of that at the moment. As she spoke about him, Micah could only keep thinking ‘His music not even the best thing about him’.
After spending so much time together, Micah had realized that it was a reason that so many people adored Jeremiah. He also knew there was a lot more to him that most people didn’t know.
“I’a getchu some tickets,” Micah smiled.
Meilie opened her mouth wide. “You lyin’,”
Micah shook his head, “Nope–look, I’a ask the nigga right now,” he told her, pulling out his phone.
Jeremiah 🥴
hey<
>wassup?
I was wondering if you gotta show coming up<
I want some tickets… first row<
>aww you a fan now Micah? 😂😂❤️❤️❤️
Ehh, you could work on…<
I been a fan bitch, don’t play wit me<
Micah just smiled at his phone to which Meilie peeped. “Ohhh… I see,” she spoke, giggling a bit as she finished pulling her pot, grabbing the wire cutter to remove it from the wheel, then she grabbed a new piece of clay to make another. “Y’all more than jus’… roommates, huh?”
“Huh?” Micah chuckled, not paying attention anymore, for Jeremiah started sending Micah memes on Instagram. “Es nigga stupid,” he laughed.
“Oh… I really get it now,” Meilie chuckled.
“Huh?” Micah whipped his head towards her. “Whatchu get? Sorry, I zoned out fa a bit, but he told me he gon’ hook me up wit a couple-“
“Y’all fuckin’?” she just asked.
“Huh?” Micah asked again, almost running his finished pot.
“I sed is y’all fuckin’?” she asked again. “The way you was lookin’ in et phone,” she shook her head. “Wait– Woody Kent is–” she felt a hand over her mouth.
“Shut up,” Micah told her instinctively. “Nope. Nun of et,” he shook his head, shutting down her thoughts.
Meilie honestly couldn’t care less about if he was having sex with Jeremiah at the moment, for his clay-covered hand was touching her face… and mouth!
“Getcho dirty ass hands offa me,” Meilie pushed his arm away, knocking over her finished pot in the process, watching it fall to the floor and collapse in on itself.
Micah was panicking as he bent down to try and save her pot. “Shit, I’m sorry, Mei,” he told her. “Fuck, I’ll make up fa es,” he spoke quickly, grabbing the clay from the floor.
Meilie just watched Micah struggle in amusement for a moment, giggling a bit.
“Relax, Micah–I’m not mad about that. I can make a new one–I’m jus’ mad atchu touchin’ my face witcho dirty ass hands!”
“Sorry… lemme buy you some makeup or sum,” Micah just suggested with a shrug.
Meilie face lit up, “Really?” she smiled. “You not gon’ try n kidnap me? You not onna weird shit? I mean you are rich, so I believe you can get me some new makeup, n shit–”
“Meilie… you want sum new makeup or nah?” Micah laughed, cutting her off.
She just smiled and nodded. “Aight, coo’… show me how ta finish es pot now,” he chuckled, watching as she scooted her chair closer to him.
After the class had ended, Meilie wound up in Micah’s car.
He kept his word on his promise and took her to the mall, letting her go on a miniature shopping spree.
For some reason, Micah loved her energy, and he just wanted to continue to be around her. He felt like she had a good spirit, and she was so easy to talk to.
He almost felt the same way talking to Jeremiah…
The two’s final destination ended up being at the park. Meilie sat in the passenger’s seat with her feet on the dash, showing off her fresh, french-tip toes as she held an ice cream cone in her hand.
Micah had the heat blasting, for it was cold, and Meilie tasked him with also getting them a bottle.
“I swur I been drunk ever since I started senior yur,” Micah chuckled, turning down the music and pouring himself a shot, from the bottle, into his mouth.
“I been drunk since freshman yur…” she looked over at Micah. “Of high schoo’…”
The two just busted out laughing, “Fuckin’ holic!”
Meilie shrugged, “I’m workin’ on it,” she told him.
“Es real… at least you know issa problem,” Micah told her, genuinely, passing her the bottle.
She shook her head, then tossed her head back, keeping her mouth open. “C’mon, new bestie. Pour me up,” she leaned her seat back a bit.
Micah just shook his head, “N hur I am feedin’ the alcoholic liquor…” he smacked his lips, but poured the tequila into her mouth anyway.
“Woo!” Meilia yelled with a smile. “Et should do,” she spoke, resuming the task of eating her ice cream. She turned slightly towards Micah, “Okay, back ta earlier… I’m nosy, Micah. I swur I won’t tell,” she giggled, referring to Jeremiah.
Micah just blinked. He sighed, remaining silent for a moment to think about his next decisions.
Without thought, he poured himself a shot, or two, then he sighed again.
“I–” he got stuck. “I…I…” he tried to get his thoughts out, but he just ended up chewing on his bottom lip.
He sighed, taking another shot. “Look, if iss es stressful, Micah–”
“I let et nigga fuck me,” Micah blurted, taking another shot, not even looking her way to see her reaction.
He knew because Meilie was gay, she probably wouldn’t care. It probably contributed to the fact of Micah being able to even say it aloud.
Micah hadn’t acknowledged it since it happened.
“Oh, shit…” Meilie licked her ice cream.
“Yeah… n now, I’m confused… as fuck,” Micah drukenly rambled. “Cuz I…” he sighed. “I think I… l-like him or sum. I don’t know,” Micah admitted, saying the part of him confessing his adoration for Jeremiah in almost a whisper.
“But… I have a girlfren… who’s havin’ my fuckin’ child,” Micah facepalmed himself. “N Ian even supposed ta be es way–Iss not right–”
“Says who, nigga?” Meilie sat up in the seat. “You think I’m wong?” she asked Micah, who looked at her on confusion. “Is my existence wrong?” she asked again.
“Of course not–”
“So, why is you lovin’ someone wrong?” Meilie asked.
“Love–nah, it ain’t like et…” Micah brushed off. “He jus’… he got me in my feelins, heavy. I wanna be around him. His lips feel real good, n… mmm,” Micah just shook his head. “Mm mm mm, I can’t explain no further cuz et mean I’m really gay,” he sighed, feeling his voice shake.
The alcohol was catching up to him.
“Micah, relax,” Meilie grabbed his face. “First of all, I doubt you’re gay. Thur’s other thangs than just gay. Two, you need ta figure yourself out. I’m not sure the depths, but I promise you, bein’ in the closet never works. Never… but,” she let his face go. “You have ta make et decision for yourself. If you want ta be a father, live the perfect American life, then iss your prerogative, but you can’t continued ta do her dirty. Doin’ him dirty in the process because you playin’ both sides. Especially, the women who’s carryin’ your child,” she explained.
“Yeah…” Micah sighed and shook his head.
“However,” Meilie grabbed Micah’s hand, interlocking them. “The biggest advice I can give you is thur is nothin’ that will bring you closer ta happiness than livin’ in your truth,” she kissed his cheek, then leaned back into her seat.
Micah just remained silent, taking in all her words.
The two continued to talk some more, getting to know one another.
Micah even told her he was taking the art class next semester, and of course, Meilie is in it.
He felt happy about that.
“Hey, can we exchange numbers?” Micah asked. “I would drop you off too, but…” he shook his head. “Ion trust myself, so I can pay fa you an Uber,”
“You don’t have to, Micah. I got it, n you can have my number. I expect you ta use it too, pretty boy,”
“I am payin’ for it, n I def will be hittin’ yo fine ass up,” Micah teased, making Meilie laugh.
Micah then pulled out his phone, so he could order them both Uber’s, but he ended up somewhere else.
Jeremiah 🥴
>u good?
yeah… caan u picjk me up????<
????<
??????? Jeremiah???<
Can you pick usss uo?<
>yes nigga send ya lo damn… you drunk?
> n who da fuck is us?
I fucked up 😂😂😂😂<
n nun jus a shawty a met round the way<
On the other side of the city, Jeremiah sat on the couch of his father’s home, staring at the text message.
Jeremiah already knew the feeling that was running through him. “Us?” he repeated to himself, quietly with a small chuckle. “Shawty, you met round da way?”
He just sighed, standing to his feet to get his keys.
Jeremiah was going to go regardless, plus, he needed to see the vibes between Micah and this mystery chick. Since when did Micah hand with females unless he was fucking them.
A deep groan escaped Jeremiah, for he was aggravating himself with each passing thought.
I will smack a broad.
No, I wouldn’t.
I will think about smacking a bitch though.
No… I respect women…
But, it’s Micah…
Okay, I won’t purposely… smack said bitch…
Be cool, Miah!
“Fuck! Lemme leave fa I tweak,” Jeremiah stood up, grabbing his headphones to put on his headphones on before heading out.
It took him about twenty minutes to arrive at his location before he spotted Micah’s car in the parking lot of Shawnee Park.
He pulled up next to it, feeling his chest tighten upon seeing a beautiful woman leaning over into Micah’s seat as if she was about to give him head.
“Fuck, how did I drop my phone,” Meilie complained as she moved her hand around on the floor between Micah’s legs.
“You know I coulda jus’ grabbed it fa you,” Micah laughed, keeping his legs spread, so she could find it.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah–Oh, fuck,” Meilie jumped, hearing a knock on Micah’s window.
Micah whipped his head towards the window, then Meilie popped her head up from his lap as Jeremiah looked through the window with a slight glare.
A smile just appeared on Micah’s face as he opened the window to step out of it. “Hey,” he smiled at him, opening his arms out, to give Jeremiah a hug.
“Hey, who she?” Jeremiah asked off the rip.
Micah just giggled, making Jeremiah raise a brow, his face just gained a deeper scowl.
“She my new fren. Can you drop ha off too, Miah?” Micah asked him.
Jeremiah just stared as Meilie got out of the car, waltzing over to the two of them. “AHHH! It’s Woody Kent!” she damn near screamed as she jumped up and down when she saw Jeremiah. “I’m a big fan,” she nodded. “I swur, I’m not weird or nothin’–a little drunk,” she giggled, taking her hand back before Jeremiah could even take it. “Can you take me home, Mr Kent?” she asked. “I’ll pay you,”
“Mr Kent?” Jeremiah laughed a bit. “N thank you fa supportin’ me, luh mama,”
“So, you gon’ take ha home, Miah?” Micah asked again. “Please, fa me?” he asked, poking his lips out, making Jeremiah sigh.
He just looked into Micah’s pleading, drunk eyes. “Whateva,” he huffed. “C’mon, drunk hoes,” he waved them over to his car, making sure to open the door for Meilie and help her inside.
Jeremiah then just headed back to his campus. Meilie was staying at her dorm over the break, so he headed there first to drop Meilie off before he changed routes into the direction of Micah’s family house, finally dropping him off.
•••
the next day
Micah’s eyes fluttered open. And when he did, to his surprise, he saw his mother sitting on the edge of his bed.
He was so confused as to why she was in here with him. “Well, goodmornin’, mama,” he greeted her, sitting up, attempting to hug her.
“Oh, no. Wash first,” Sabrina told him, then shifted, so she could fully face him. “Go on, face and teeth, now,” she commanded, and Micah just did as told, then returned to his room afterward, now sitting in the chair next to his bed. “No, sit here, sweetie. I want to show you something,” she smiled which just caught him even more off guard.
Micah hardly ever saw his mother smiling unless it was towards his father, sometimes his big brother. Rarely for though… so he wondered what exactly she was up to.
He stood up, sitting next to her, waiting anxiously for the news she was about to tell him.
“Here, son,” Sabrina grabbed his hand, placing a small box into it.
Micah raised a brow, looking up into her eyes. “This was my grandmother’s engagement ring,” she told him.
Fuck. Micah thought. He knew his mother wasn’t just trying to be nice to him. There was always an ulterior motive. “We had it altered to fit perfectly on Kelia’s finger. I contacted her parents to get her ring size. Of course, your father suggested adding a diamond, so it could be a bit more modern,” she smiled. “What do you think?”
“Uhhh,” Micah opened the box, looking at the ring inside and how the light caught certain angels, reflecting the beautiful light. “It’s… beautiful,” he told her.
He meant it. It was a beautiful ring… he just didn’t want to be engaged so soon.
“Good. Now, go get dressed. Kelia and her parents are on the way over. Make sure you have a presentable outfit and his that little box in your pocket,” she told him, standing to her feet, prepared to leave his room.
“Wait, mom. They comin’ today?” Micah asked in confusion.
Sabrina turned around, looking almost in his eyes, for she was tall and had on heels. “Why, yes. Is there any problems with that?” she asked witha smirk.
“Youn think it’s a bit… soon?” Micah asked with pleading eyes.
Sabrina raised a brow, “Look, Micah. I know, your senior year is busy, but you know how important marrying that girl is. Just let me and you father handle certain things. I knew if I didn’t do this now, you probably wouldn’t propose in time enough to get in amazing graces with her family… so I took matters in my own hands… That’s not a problem right?” she asked, stepping a bit closer to him, peering into his eyes, making Micah feel like he was still a child. A small, helpless child. “You’re not doing anything that could ruin this family right?”
“Right,”
“You want to marry her right?” she asked.
Micah nodded slowly. “Right…” he spoke quietly.
“Okay, then. No issues,” Sabrina smiled, patting Micah on his shoulder. “Be downstairs in about an hour. We have everything set up for you,”
Once Micah was left to himself, he sat back down on the bed, staring at the ring. His mind was racing with a million thoughts that he could hardly contain. “Why?” was all the words he could muster.
He thought about just leaving and dealing with the consequences later, but Micah knew in his heart, he couldn’t deal with the consequences, so instead, he went to his bathroom and did as his mother told him.
•••
Sitting my the door with balloons and decorations that say Will You Marry Me?, Micah stood there with his hands in his pocket.
His mother was standing near him, updating him on Kelia’s arrival while she stood with her camera in place.
There was a chef in the kitchen, preparing food, a decorator still putting up decor, and even some presents for the baby.
Micah had no clue about any of this. Again, he felt like his life was not his own.
Meilie’s words from yesterday circled through his mind.
He was drunk a bit of the time, but there was one thing that stuck in his thoughts.
There is nothing that will bring you closer to happiness than living in your truth.
Micah sighed, looking down. His palms were sweating, and he had several instincts, telling him to just leave.
“There here!” Sabrina clapped, going to the front door to lok out of it.
Too late.
Sabrina watched as Kameron helped his daughter out of the car, then Kelia and her parents started headed to the Park’s front door.
There was a knock. “Micah,” his mother called to him, pointing to the spot where he needed to be.
He sighed, then got down on one knee…
“Hello! Welcome!” Sabrina greeted the three. “We have our chef finishing up now–come on in,” she smiled, then moved out of the way.
“Nice to see you again, Mrs Parks,” Kelia greeted her, leaving her parents to greet Micah’s.
She continued for a few steps, then stopped in her tracks upon seeing Micah on one knee.
Kelia’s mouth dropped before she looked around, eyeing the decorations. She felt her eyes start watering. “Micah…” she told him. “What are you doing down there?”
Micah put on his best face.
He did love her, so why not?
Fuck it.
Micah smiled, taking her hand, kissing her left ring finger, “Kelia Monroe, would you do me the honors of bein’ not only the mother of my first child but my wife?” he asked, standing to his feet as he pulled the ring out of the box.
Kelia was speechless for a moment.
She blinked away her tears, then looked up at Micah in the eyes.
She smiled wide, “I say… yes,”
christmas break to be continued…
•••
Thoughts on the chapter? Predictions?
Favorite part?
•••
meilie chartreuse | 23 | micah’s friend
major: engineering
interest: art, humanity, philosophy
