Bloom

30 | four letter word

Rashad "June" Lockhart jr
Friday, February 3 | 1:27 p.m.
Garden Street

-

"Woah! Be careful, Rashad." Giselle's eyes widen as I slide the covered mattress out of the Uhaul.

"Relax, baby. I got this." I grunt, bending my knees to center myself. "Watch out though 'cause I can't see shit."

Adjusting a small box on her hip, she zips past me and presses the button to the elevator. A few seconds later, I hear the massive metal doors open. We cram ourselves inside, swiftly riding up to the third floor and I chuckle to myself, watching Giselle's giddy face.

"I can't believe this place is all mine!" She grins, bouncing on her heels as we walk down the chilly corridor. She twists the knob to her front door and sighs, fishing her keys out of her coat pocket. Just as she inserts it into the lock, the gray door comes flying open.

"Girl, don't be locking no doors in my house." Giselle jokes, stepping past her older sister.

"My bad." Gabriella scrunches her nose up. "Force of habit."

"Whew!" Mr. Rowe sighs, following me into the bedroom. "I ain't what I used to be."

He sets down the beige nightstand in the corner and raises his arms to stretch, his joints popping loudly.

"Aye, I got the rest, OG." I laugh, patting him on the shoulder. Luckily for us all, Giselle only had a room to pack up and move in addition to a few other household items that were gifted. Barstools from her homegirls and a big ass plush sofa from her parents. "Should be nothin' but the headboard and some other lightweight stuff left."

"Preciate that." He nods, exiting the room for his wife to rub his lower back.

I jog out the front door, bypassing Jamari who's pitching a fit to follow his mother outside and immediately plant a kiss on my girlfriend's lips once the elevator doors briefly seclude us from the rest of the world.

I feel comfortable around Giselle's parents at least, but it's still anxiety-inducing for me to be near her sister and nephew, especially the innocent child who looks exactly like his father.

I do what I can steer clear of the two of them, not wanting to risk the overwhelming sense of guilt flooding my brain again. I just got my girl back a couple of weeks ago and I refuse to allow another man's actions to push me away from her again.

Can't be stupid twice.

Together, we step inside the back of the trunk with Gabriella and pick up the remaining objects.

"Never seen somebody hold onto so many damn clothes. Why does this say 8th grade dance and graduation, G?" I raise an eyebrow, reading the blue permanent marker scribbled onto one of the smaller boxes.

"'Cause it's from my 8th grade dance and graduation, duh." She rolls her eyes, stacking it on top of the bright red trolly. "I need it for memories."

"Man, I barely even know what happened in 8th grade. We grown now."

"'Cause you ain't save yo' dress." Giselle snickers, making her sister cover her mouth to contain her laughter.