“Ah, you loyal. I can respect that. She a GD, ain’t she?”
It wasn’t long after my dad died that Aunt Pooh started wearing green all the time. “Yeah. Been one for most of my life.”
“That mess is a distraction of the worst kind,” he says. “I know so many folks who’d go far if they left the streets alone. But it’s like my pops used to say—‘Never let yourself drown while trying to save somebody that don’t wanna be saved.’”
No, see, he’s got it wrong. Aunt Pooh’s not a lost cause. Yeah, she has her moments and she gets too caught up in the streets, but once I make it, she’ll give all that up.
I think.
I hope.
Sixteen
Supreme was right. Tons of people posted videos of what happened at the Ring last night, and tons more listened to my song. My streams keep going up.
Lots of people think that I’m somebody I’m not, too. I’ve been called ghetto, ratchet, a hood rat with no home training. All of that. I don’t know if I’m more pissed or hurt. I can’t speak up for myself and even lose my cool without somebody writing me off.
So yeah, Supreme was right. I wonder if he was right about Aunt Pooh, too.
I shouldn’t even think like that. She’s my aunt. My A1 since day one. But she also doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing. She hasn’t said anything about booking shows or putting me on other people’s songs. Absolutely nothing about how to get me paid. She’s still in her feelings that I uploaded the song to begin with.
But she’s my aunt. I can’t drop her. At least that’s what I tell myself as I poke at this sausage on my plate.
Jay slides a pancake beside it. “That was the last of the flour. Pooh’s talking about bringing some groceries over later this week. I almost said no, but . . .”
Our fridge and cabinets are just about empty. That’s another reason I can’t drop Aunt Pooh. She always makes sure I have food.
Trey stirs cream in his coffee. He’s got on a dress shirt and there’s a tie draped around his neck. He has a job interview this morning. “Pooh and her drug-dealing money, saving the day.”
It is kinda messed up. Here my brother is, doing everything right, and nothing’s coming from it. Meanwhile, Aunt Pooh’s doing everything we’ve been told not to do, and she’s giving us food when we need it.
That’s how it goes though. The drug dealers in my neighborhood aren’t struggling. Everybody else is.
Jay squeezes Trey’s shoulder. “Baby, you’re trying. You do so much around here. More than you should have to do.”
She goes quiet and almost zones out, then tries to recover with a smile. “I’ve got a feeling today’s interview will be the one. I also was looking online at grad school programs for you.”
“Ma, I told you, I’m not going to grad school right now.”
“Baby, you should at least apply to some programs. See what happens.”
“I already did,” he says. “I got in.”
I glance up from poking at my sausage. “For real?”
“Yeah. Applied before I started at Sal’s. Just recently got a couple of acceptance letters, but the closest school is three hours away. I gotta stay around here and—”
He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to. He’s gotta stay and help us.
Jay blinks several times. “You didn’t tell me you got in.”
“It’s not a big deal, Ma. I’m where I wanna be. Promise.”
Trey sipping his coffee is the only sound for a long while.
Jay sets the platter of pancakes on the table. “Y’all go ahead and finish up.”
“Ma—”
“Good luck with your interview, baby.”
She goes to her room and closes the door.
My heart’s in my throat. I don’t remember a whole lot from when she first got sick, but I do remember that she’d always go off to her room. She’d stay in there for hours, leaving me and Trey to ourselves just like . . .
“She not using,” Trey says.
Some days, it’s like my thoughts are his own. “Are you sure?”
“She won’t do that to herself again, Bri. She just needs . . . space. Parents never wanna break in front of their kids.”
“Oh.”
Trey holds his forehead. “Damn, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
It’s hard to know what to tell him. “Congrats on getting in?”
“Thanks. It was stupid to apply, frankly. Guess I was just curious.”