“Shit, I don’t even really know where to start with either,” I said, taking another pull.
“You can start by telling me about your childhood. What was life like for young Ghana?”
“Fucked up.”
“Elaborate.”
“I didn’t have a normal childhood. There were days when I felt normal, then there were days I’d get so angry out of nowhere because the thoughts in my head pissed me off. It wasn’t as extreme as it is now, and I think it was because of Kenzi’s pops that I had more good days than bad days. He was a real stand-up dude. Shit, I think the nigga treated me better than my own moms did.”
“What were some of the things he did that made you feel . . . normal?”
“He’d play ball with me. Taught me how to play basketball, football, and soccer. He was at my games when I used toplay sports in middle school. It wasn’t really about the sports, though; it was the fact that the nigga showed up and never treated me any different, even though I’d spazz out sporadically. He was the one to reel me back in before shit got too crazy. Ashanti . . .” I paused from speaking and pulled in more smoke while placing my elbows on my knees. I hated talking about her ass. It was probably what triggered my anger most of the time; that and the fact that I hated for a motherfucka to say or do certain shit I didn’t fuck with.
“Ashanti is your mother?”
I nodded. “If you could even call her that shit.”
“Tell me about her.”
I rubbed my beard and looked over at her. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, elbow resting on her knee as her head rested on her balled fist, looking at me. Genuine. Attentive. Alert.
Those pretty-ass eyes sparkled in the sun that was slowly fading into the evening, and I wondered what skin care products she used to make her skin so smooth. I couldn’t help but acknowledge the angel sitting next to me while the devil was on my other side, encouraging me to take her down just to know what that pretty-ass face looked like twisted up in pleasure.
“You’re beautiful,” I blurted.
She smiled lightly. “Thank you, but let’s stay focused, Mr. Abara. I notice you like to swerve when trying to avoid saying certain things about yourself. I want you to be as confident in answering these questions as you are when you’re staring at me unapologetically. When your thoughts of doing ungodly things with your therapist start to spill, even when you don’t verbally say them.”
I pressed my tongue into my cheek to avoid the smirk that was creeping up on my face.
“You a mind reader?”
“I read body language. One of my many talents.”
“Humph. Mental note connoisseur and body language reader. What’s the others?”
“I’m not up for discussion. I’m interested in knowing about you, Mr. Abara.”
“Ghana. Just call me Ghana.”
“Noted. I rode on your bike while you almost killed me. The deal was that you talk, so talk.”
I sighed. “I wouldn’t say she never taught us shit; it was her demeanor that made me feel unwanted. Merrick, my fuck-ass pops, was the first nigga she fell in love with, and he got her pregnant then left. After she had me, she got with Kenz's dad, and two years later, Kenzi came. I could tell she didn’t fuck with him for real. Merrick was her first love, and I think she wanted him more than she wanted Quinton. But she stayed with him because he wasn’t a deadbeat, and he took care of us and our home.
“I think she was a little jealous of the attention he would give me and Kenz, so she would start doing little shit to me, like fucking up my reading time—something that allowed me to escape the recesses of my fucked-up ass mind. She was hard on me, and it only got worse after Q died when I was twelve, and Kenz was ten. A drunk driver took him out. That’s when my rage got worse.”
“You lost your safe space,” she observed.
I nodded. “I guess you can say that.”
“How did Merrick come back into the picture?”
“I ain’t sure when the nigga came back, because for a long time, it was us three and my nana, Zuri. She was another one to leave my life that I felt gave a fuck about me besides Q and Kenz. Once she left me, Ashanti stayed away more than she was home. I was fifteen when my nana died. That’s when Ashanti started todisappear for days at a time, I assume to be with Merrick's ho ass.
“Then, when I was seventeen, two weeks away from turning eighteen, she tried to move that nigga in, and I told her ass no. She did it anyway, and I crashed out. I blacked out. I always black out when I get to that point and never remember what I did until the fog clears.”
“How did that make you feel when you finally came out of the fog?”
“I felt fucked up because I don’t hit women, but Kenzi told me that she tried to stop me, and I struck her. That’s when she took me to a therapist and got me put on meds that make me feel fucking depressed. It’s the same thing I did to Nichelle when I blacked out on her.”