“I don’t want that for my seed, man. And it hurts because I want to give Nichelle the life she wants. Out of all the bitches I've fucked, she was the only one who stayed solid. She deserves her happily ever after. I’m just not sure I’m the one to give it to her. I don’t want to be the villain in her story.”
“Then don’t be. You’re not a pariah, Grue. So as a man thinketh, so is he. If you think you’re going to be a fucked-up father, then guess what? That’s what you’re going to be. Life and death are in the power of the tongue. Speak life into your home, your relationship, and your baby. She’s almost here, sent fromthe Creator to possibly show you that youcanbe a good dad. And I don’t doubt you’d be a good husband too.”
I looked over at him, trying to figure out when this nigga became a damn spiritual philosopher. This was the same man who would pump bullets in niggas when they fucked with his peace on a Sunday. Yet here he was, preaching to me on his peace day.
Shit, maybe that was why he chose this day to meditate and repent for all the sinning his ass did Monday through Saturday.
“Since when did you start reciting biblical verses, nigga?”
He chuckled. “Since I met your crazy-ass sister.”
We laughed as I shook my head. We went silent again, just listening to the crickets that were now coming out since the afternoon ended.
“You own a bookstore. I want you to find a book calledThe Mind of a Manby Yasmin Cuevas. It’s some real deep shit, and I think it’ll help you focus more. No man or woman is perfect, Ghana. You just gotta tap into the part of your heart that’s good, that feels, that loves unconditionally.”
I nodded in understanding. “You’re right.” I stuck my fist out, and he put his against mine and twisted them to indicate us locking in.
He and his brother, Jaxson, had always been like brothers to me. Even after I tried to break into his bike store, the nigga received me with open arms—after he almost killed me, of course. That was eons ago, and the amount of love he’d shown me over the years was irreplaceable.
I loved him for Kenzi. She deserved to have someone who stood on business about her like me, and Ruger was the perfect person for her. I couldn’t have chosen a better man for the job.
“Thanks for the pep talk, fam. I truly needed that shit.”
“Always, my baby.”
I abruptly looked up from my computer at the door after hearing it fling open and Janelle screaming at my client, Tyrik Richards, not to come into my office.
“Aye, this shit is an emergency, so I suggest you get the fuck out of my face!” he yelled at her.
I stood. “Janelle, it’s fine,” I told her, hurriedly walking over to them in the doorway.
“You sure? I can call the cops.”
“You think I give a fuck about some police, bitch?”
“Mr. Richards! Have a seat, please. Janelle, it’s okay.” She looked at me for a beat before walking away. I closed the door and let out a frustrating sigh. Being in my line of work was sometimes dangerous and exhausting when some of my clientscame in off their rockers. I tried to stay neutral because I knew the mental battle they endured every day, but when clients like Tyrik didn’t respect boundaries, it made it a little hard to deal with.
I chose this profession as a psychiatrist because I wanted to help people who struggled with mental conditions.
I used to watch things likeHannibalandThe Hand That Rocks the Cradleand felt as if I could help people through their mental states and trauma.
Most of the time, it was due to them experiencing trauma throughout their childhoods and could be treated by having them purge and release.
Except for people like Tyrik, who suffered from severe bipolar disorder.
Because of the severity of some of my patients, I kept a gun hidden in the back of my waistband. I could never be too careful with them because of an incident that occurred before, when one of my clients got handsy with me; I had to make sure I protected myself at all costs.
I watched as Tyrik paced the floor across the room while I stayed near the door.
“Mr. Richards, what seems to be the emergency?”
“Mannn, I think you need to up the dosage on my medicine because the shit ain’t working. I be trying to chill, but these thoughts in my head ain’t going away. I can hear this voice in my head telling me to go kill my baby mama.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s have a seat and do the breathing exercise we talked about.”
“Doc, that breathing shit ain’t gon’ work. That bitch won’t let me see my kid, man! How the fuck is I’m gon’ be better for her if her ugly-ass mama keep trying to block me out of her life?”
“I understand how you feel, but I want you to listen to yourself and not that voice that you’re hearing. The more you actout, the worse this gets, Mr. Richards. If you want my help, you have to do what I say. Understand?”