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( CHAPTER TEN: BIG BAD WOLF ) April, 1992
❝ you don't belong here, or with her, you never will. ❞
◯
"I'm not talking to her," Devon firmly stated, hastily filtering through his messy apartment. Devon's uncle stood there, lumbering body waddling after his nephew as he retrieved his clothes, packed for the next flight to Los Angeles. Devon's older family member came to Devon's aid after hearing about the incident with his mother, and the young man didn't expect for his uncle to side with her.
If anything, he wholeheartedly expected for his uncle to understand his point of view, to identify with his heated feelings of animosity, geared towards his mother's betrayal. She drank, knowing the consequences that would follow after, and the emotional turmoil that it would ensue knowing that Arkell still lived under her roof. Devon wasn't willing to forgive something like that.
"You have to speak to her sometime," Devon's uncle pouted, watching the younger male scramble around the flat in a last minute attempt to escape this horrid conversation. "Well that's not gonna happen," Devon mumbled, completely adamant on his decision.
However, Devon's uncle stepped forward, wanting to break through to his stubborn nephew. "Dev—"
"—I'm not talking to her," the young man quickly said, "And I don't want Arkell near her until she gets sober." Devon's hand gripped the strap of his carry on, quickly dragging his bag over to the door, feeling the wheels scrap against the new wooden floorboards. For a second, Devon hesitated, suddenly fearing that he would ruin the polished wood railings, recalling the tireless hours he spent remodelling this apartment to suit his tastes.
Now he could confidently say that only furniture was needed to add the finishing touches to his condo. "Dev, just so you know," the older gentlemen started, his hammy hand clamping down on the young man's shoulder, "She does care for the both of you, please keep that in mind."
At this point, Devon wasn't entirely convinced that that was true. He loved his mother, but did she even love her kids back? It was a twisted thought, and yet as he saw his mother's true colours come to light in these last few days, he was actually starting to think that it might've been a valid thought.
"If she really loved us, she would've never picked up that bottle," Devon fervently seethed, his profound fury not simmering down, "Tell Arkell I said goodbye." And just as Devon shot his dear uncle another churlish glare, he attempted to head towards the door.
"Aye!" The older man said, causing for the twenty-three-year-old to swivel back around. "You ain't gon' say goodbye to your uncle?! Boy, come here," the aggressive command put a smile on Devon's timid face, forgetting the fact that there was still some light in his life, one of those being his uncle's comforting presence.
