Murderville Page 0,6
his chest.
“I’m taking you home,” he whispered.
A’shai carried Liberty into their luxury home. He had hustled hard for everything they had. The travertine stone floors, the Brazilian hardwood cabinets, the imported Parisian furnishing . . . it was all sheer opulence—the epitome of the American dream—but as he carried a dying Liberty in his arms he realized how foolish it all seemed. What was it all for? He had spent countless hours in the street, grinding, hustling night after night to give her material things. Wanting to provide for her and give her the world, he had saved every dollar, never spending anything without first sharing it with her. He had wasted time hustling and as he thought of what he could have done with all those hours, he was filled with regret. Time was something that he thought he would always have. Never had he ever thought it would slip away from them so quickly.
“Stop, Shai,” Liberty whispered as she stared up at him. Their connection was so tangible that she knew what he was thinking. “Don’t babe.”
A lone tear betrayed him, rolling down his cheek as he nuzzled his face against hers. “I love you, Libby.”
“I know you do,” she replied. “Now I believe you owe me a warm bubble bath.”
Through it all she was able to muster a smile, reminding A’shai why she was the most beautiful person he had ever known.
“I can do that,” he said. He placed her down on the couch and propped a pillow beneath her head before going to draw her a bath. He would cater to her, he would love her, and he would do whatever she needed him to in order to make her transition easier.
As he placed her body into the steaming water she sighed in relief as it soothed her ailing bones. Everything seemed to hurt. Her entire body was weak and the water was like a vacation from her everyday torture. Candles filled the air with a French vanilla scent, and she inhaled deeply as she sat back and watched A’shai remove his clothes. His body was marred with wounds . . . some had been attained in war, some in the streets, some she had put there herself from her fingernails digging into his back as he filled her with intimate strokes. All of them told a story and as he joined her she reached for him, pulling him between her thighs as she kissed his scars.
“I’m too heavy, ma,” he protested.
“Shhh. Let mama take care of her man,” she whispered as she grabbed a sponge and washed his back. Even though the sponge was light as a feather it felt as if she was holding a fifty-pound brick. It took all of her strength to bathe him, but nevertheless she washed her man’s back. Their love was one unmatched by any other. They were so many things to one another: lovers, friends, adversaries at times . . . but they loved each other so deeply, so unapologetically, that it was parental in a sense. Liberty may as well have been A’shai’s mother and he her father, because they had made one another. Their love had been birthed . . . their union blessed . . . their lives’ paths intertwined.
A’shai kissed her kneecaps as she washed his back. He cried so silently that even he forgot that he was weeping.
“I just want you to be happy, Shai. After this is over I want you to live. You’ve been dying right along with me for too long,” Liberty said as he started to turn towards her, wetting his face to wash away his anguish before finally facing her.
“I can’t believe this is it, ma. I’ve got all the money in the world, and it can’t do shit for me. I’m just sitting back watching you leave me . . . watching you hurt,” A’shai said in frustration. “You don’t deserve this. GOD chose the wrong one.”
“He chooses everyone babe,” she whispered. “Everyone has to face death one day. That’s what makes life worth living.”
A’shai had not yet come to terms with the inevitable, but Liberty had a way of poetically putting things into perspective. They washed one another silently until the water ran cold, then A’shai carried her into their room.
He laid her in the bed and sat in the cozy, leather La-Z-Boy that was positioned beside it.
“Let’s talk,” Liberty said.
“You should rest, baby girl,” A’shai asserted.
“I don’t want to sleep. I want to keep my