Jaquan Carter | Quan
Atlanta,Ga
I stormed out of Paris's senior night, my mind a whirlwind of anger and suspicion.
The drive to the house was a blur, my knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too hard.
I ain't even bother knocking or announcing my presence when I arrived—I still paid the bills round this mafucka.
"Yo Promise, where you at?" I yelled as I walked through the downstairs area, finding it empty.
The sound of movement from upstairs drew me to our once-shared master bedroom.
I opened the door and heard the shower running.
Sitting on the bed, I waited, my leg shaking with anger as thoughts about Jayceon's coach and Promise gnawed at me.
The bathroom door opened, and Promise stepped out, wrapped in a towel.
She jumped slightly, clutching her chest when she saw me.
"Ooo, you scared me. What you doin' here, Quan?"
I ain't answer at first, my eyes following her every move as she walked to the closet.
"You know why I'm here. We ain't done talking."
Promise sighed as she emerged from the closet, now dressed in her nightclothes.
"Jaquan, I'm done talking about it. You came back to tell me that something happened and that it's supposedly all over, but you won't even tell me what happened," she said, her frustration mounting.
She had tried to start allat yelling shit at the game, but y'all know ion even play like that, had to shut ha down quickly.
"First of all, lower yo voice, for real. And I told yo ass, I ain't tellin' you 'bout that shit 'cause the less you know, the better," I said bluntly.
Ion sugarcoat anything.
"Stop talking to me like that, Quan. Seriously. I understand that, but this is way more serious this time around. You know how your dad is. I don't want us to have to walk around looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives," she said, now standing in front of my side of the bed.
"How many times I gotta tell you, y'all don't. The situation's handled. He's not coming back. I just need you to trust me," I pleaded, trying to keep my composure.
But her persistence was making me upset.
"Oh my gosh, Quan, how you expect me to trust you in a situation like this? Need I remind you, you said this same thing 18 years ago and yet here we are," she retorted, anger and attitude clear in her voice.
Instantly, I flew off the bed. The fuck.
"So you just gone throw that shit in my face, huh? You know I'm only back in this shit 'cause it had to do with our son. What the fuck is you really sayin' right now?" I said angrily, now standing in her face.
She rolled her eyes slightly and pushed me back lightly.
"Okay, that was low, my bad. But exactly like you just said, OUR son. The least you can do is tel—"
"MAN, WHY THE FUCK YOU WANNA KNOW SO BAD FA?" I cut her off, knowing she was about to ask me to tell her everything.
"I'M JUST TRYNA HELP YO BLACK ASS. You know what? Fine. Be that way then, but when this shit backfires and the cops come knocking, I can't help you," she said, shrugging her shoulders as she walked away from me and laying in the bed.
