The King Brothers [BoyxBoy]

34. Cedric

I am distraught. My life is a train wreck right now. I don't know how I will go on. A part of me wants to end it just like Hykeem did, but the other part of me, the optimistic part, sees hope in my future. I don't know which part of me to believe at this point. I sit alone, in my bedroom, about 32 hours after the suicide. The detectives, and investigators were finally wrapping things up, and leaving. My mother went to the Marriott, to spend the night. I couldn't go visit TJ in his room at Grady Memorial, because I would be forced to cry even more. I needed to be alone. 

I wave off the last of the crew, and close and lock the crystal doors of the King Estate. Walking around this empty house brought so many memories, of when Zeph and I were little. I remember when we first moved in here with Isadore, we both would sneak downstairs, during their parties, and house events for the growing of the company. Christmas parties, anniversaries. We were never allowed down when guests were here. Mom and Isadore would shove us in the  highest floor of the place, with a room full of toys and junkfood, and Gladys to watch our every move. She was so young and vibrant back then. We'd wrestle, and play with her just like she was one of us. Zeph and I were clever little tikes.  We'd run Gladys, until she was out of gas, and as soon as she was sleepy from all of the running around and jumping we did, Zeph and I would put on our little suits and ties, and parade around every party pretending to be grown ups. We even pick-pocketed a few rich white women, by smiling and showing our dimples. A seven year old set of twins is the cutest thing to rich white women. And we sat on plenty of laps too. I stand alone in the hallway laughing at these moments. I continue walking around, and then I walk up the flight of stairs leading to the master bedroom. Right across form the door, was Isadore's wine case. I hovered over it a moment, knowing that I'd instantly be relieved from all the pain I was feeling, and contemplated on whether I should or not. 

I felt a tear roll, and I turned the other way and kept walking. I came across Isadore's study. We were never allowed in there as kids, even as teenagers. Well he's gone now, so fuck it. I walked in and did what most of all people do in a private office. I sat my ass down in his big spinning, leather chair and had myself a whirl. I examined all of the room. He  had about fifty five model cars, all different types. From retro, to metro, to modern. I enjoyed myself for a few seconds until I looked down at his desk, where the drawer was halfway opened. As if the cause of some emergency, he ran out of the study without closing his drawer all the way.

I opened the drawer slowly and several files were closed inside, along with a roll of scotch tape, scissors, and pens. One of the files read "Emory Records" on the top right-hand corner of it. I rubbed the black folder gently before opening what seemed to be medical records from Emory Hospital. When I opened it, the top said Isadore's name, and it seemed to be a chart of some sort, with several numbers and letters leading all the way down the page, his finger print, and his social security number. I flipped the page over, and there was a cotton swab inside a small ziploc bag, and it was stapled to another paper that said "HIV Test Form". 

I closed my eyes and prayed what I was about to read didn't change my life traumatically. My eyes scored the paper and it said "Configuration IB, Positive." 

I found the nearest trashcan and threw the fuck up! What is wrong with this man? He has HIV? Oh my god I have to tell my mom. No I have to tell Zeph! What is going on here? I walked back to his desk and reread the paper over and over again. I flipped open his laptop, and clicked on his email. He had all the money in the world, so I understood why he left his old computer in here. I was gonna find out more about this. I had to. I clicked his inbox, and it was a message from someone named Aldridge Peterson. I clicked his name and a website advertising a Law Firm in L.A popped up. Why was Isadore emailing a lawyer from California? I mean, we have branches for the company there, but the base is here, he almost never handles outside business. That was my mom's job. I clicked back, and went to his email again and read the message from Aldridge Peterson; the message was at least a few months old.