“Oh, fuck me, of course he is!” I jumped from the chair.
“Huh?” He shifted in the chair to properly stare at me. His eyebrows were near his hairline.
I threw my hands in the air, anger spreading like steam in a shower. “He’s dying. And now he wants me to crawl after him and forgive his dying ass. Well, no, thank you.” I pointed to my chest. “And now there’s a ticking time bomb to speak to him, right? That’s why he’s been trying to get in touch with me.”
Vic, cool as a summer breeze, shrugged. “Life is shit sometimes. You just gotta roll with it.”
“And what does your barely twenty-year-old ass know about life? And PS, you don’t seem to be overly bothered by Daddy Dearest being near death’s door.”
He raised his index finger. “I’m twenty-two. Graduated from Georgia Tech on a full ride, an academic scholarship. Mom was a functional alcoholic, which was ultimately the reason she died from liver cirrhosis. Dad drank, not as much as Mom, but he could toss them back. I’m sure you remember. And, of course, he gambled away our money. I learned early on that if I wanted to eat, I had to earn it myself, so I ran drugs for a gang that had a soft spot for me.”
Well, damn. Maybe Daddy being out of my life was a blessing.
He clenched his jaw. “So, yeah, life can be shit.”
“Sorry. I thought for sure he’d play catch with you or something.”
“What?”
“Play ball. I always imagined he’d magically became a family man after he left me and Ma.”
“We played . . . once. I graduated high school and he realized that I was leaving and most likely not coming back home.”
“Where is home?”
“Now, Atlanta. Then, Birmingham, Alabama.”
Dang. We now lived in the same city and I never knew. Guilt hit me like a stack of bricks. Vic had been abandoned, had to depend on a gang to survive. If I had connected with Daddy, I could’ve taken care of my little brother at some point. At ten years apart, I could’ve been his guardian.
“I’m sorry. Apparently, you’ve had a hard life. I’m sorry Victor wasn’t a better father to you. For what it’s worth, he was really excited about you. He had such pride in his eyes when he told me I was getting a little brother.”
“You knew about me?” he whispered, his tone no longer soothing and calm, but tense and angry.
“I . . . I did. And you’ll never know how sorry I am. Especially now that I know that you were all alone.”
He shot me a look that made me check myself for exit wounds. “I’ve done my job. I told you about him. Up to you how you want to move forward.”
He stood and turned toward the door.
“Wait!” I yelled just as he reached for the door.
“Yeah?” He turned to face me.
“I’m sorry for not reaching out to you. But it looks like you turned out well despite our father.”
“Yeah . . .” He gripped the door handle. “But it would’ve been nice to have a sister.” He opened the door and closed it. It wasn’t a slam or a bang, just a sad and final closing.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I rushed back to my room and searched for my phone.
“Raina,” Ma yelled behind my closed door.
“I’ll talk about it later, Ma. Give me some time.” I found my phone on my desk.
“Okay, baby. I’m here when you want to talk.”
I waited until I heard her walk away and then I typed in a message, surprisingly not a group chat with my girls, but to Cam.
Just met my brother. Freaking out. WTF???
My hands shook as I pressed the send button. A few minutes later dots danced on my screen. “Oh my God, he’s texting me back.”
Yeah. He seems like a good dude. Sorry I didn’t warn you but . . . you tend to avoid anything related to your dad.
“You’re damn right.” I blew a breath, still rocked by the news. Cam sent another message.
Don’t worry, I checked him out before I gave him your information. Plus he looks like your father.
“Looks like Daddy?” I didn’t have any pictures of him anywhere.
How do you know how my father looks?
Your mom has a photo of him. I noticed it when we helped her move into her apartment.
That was Ma. Forever a fool for love. I shook my head and replied.
Did he tell you Daddy Dearest is dying?
What? No, he didn’t. Just said he had something to tell you and that he wanted to find you. I’m sorry,
Raina.
“You’re sorry, huh?” I muttered to myself and tossed the cell on my bed, and then I threw myself on the bed. If he wanted to be sorry, he should apologize for kicking me out of our home. I didn’t need Cam’s sympathy.
Or love.
I was exhausted. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for sleep to drag me into a soundless void, but it wasn’t to be. Instead, thoughts of my dying daddy, lost brother, and jilted lover haunted my dreams.
* * *
After a night of shitty sleep and shittier dreams, I had an epiphany. I was a big sister. And just because Vic Jr. was an adult didn’t mean that I couldn’t be there for him.
Granted, I wasn’t the model of a successful life. I was jobless, homeless, and manless. But I could still be there, at least emotionally, for Vic.
The issue was I needed his number. An even bigger issue, my ex most likely had it.
I had a weak moment yesterday by texting Cam, but I didn’t need to make it a habit.
“Just say hello and ask the man for your brother’s number. Stay strong,” I coached myself as I pulled my phone from the charger.
Hey. How are you?
Good. What are you up to?
I tapped my lips, thinking through a nonchalant response.
Currently debating title names for my book.
What are the options?
Woman to Woman or What Grandma Jean Taught Me.
Definitely Grandma Jean. I wish I could have met her.
Me too. She would’ve liked you . . .
I finally got to the point of the text.
So I didn’t have a chance to get Vic’s number. Do you happen to have it?
I released the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding in.
Cam replied back with the number and added:
I’m proud of you. I know reaching out to your brother is hard and your father dying can’t be easy . . . anyway just know that you’re in my thoughts.
A stampede of wild horses thundered in my chest. Cam was miles away. I hadn’t seen him in two months, but still I bloomed like a thirsty-ass desert flower under his praise. I thought through my next message. I needed to convey maturity, yet resilience. I wasn’t sad. I was a woman about town. Not in reality, but Cam didn’t need to know that.
Thanks, Cam. I appreciate your support.
“Should I add a smiley?” No. I shook my head. No smiley. A smiley was flirty and sweet.