Changez

•9•

The whole way back, I was quiet. Tupac was sensitive to the fact that I didn't wanna talk about what happened and he didn't pressure me to.

When we arrived to his crib, I sat in Pac's room wrapped in a blanket as he looked for something for me to wear.

"I won't fit them.. You're small." I finally said something.

"Chill, Mo. My clothes are baggy. You'll be aiight." He assured me.

He handed me a t-shirt with a pair of Reebok sweat pants.

"Thanks..." I looked around to figure out where I'd get dressed.

"Don't worry, I'll leave and let you get ready." Pac spoke.

He disappeared and there I was, alone in his room. He had a whole lot of papers on his wall with what looked like poetry written on it. Small little drawings danced beneath them.

I threw on the clothes he handed me then got to snooping.

"Even though you're a crack fiend, mama. You'll always be my black queen, mama. I finally understand, for a woman, it ain't easy tryna raise a man..."

I read out loud. The poem was titled "Dear Mama."
Pac knocked on the door.

"Come in," I scurried away from the wall.

"You look good." He smiled, weakening my knees.

Tongue in cheek, I sat back down and rubbed my jaw.

"You need ice or something?" Pac asked, noticing my discomfort and slight pain.

I shook my head, no.

"Monika, I get you not tryna talk about it but-"

"How did you know?  how could you get there at the right time?" I cut him off.
He exhaled then sat down next to me.

"Grace of God, I guess. I had went down there to check you. I know how that bitch ass nigga is so I brought my piece with me. Not saying I can't put my dukes up, but certain situations... Certain niggas need that bullet to their head. Mo, you gotta get outta here. Shit ain't workin out for you."

I raised a eyebrow.

"Again, where am I gonna go?!" I asked with agitation in my voice.

Pac thought a while.
"Aye look, you can come with me."

"Come with you where?!  You just murdered someone .. I can't- you can't-" I hesitated, then shut down.

"People get killed round here everyday. We probably passed by 39 'murderers' on our way over here. In case you haven't noticed... Police don't care if black folks go around killing other black folks. We ain't worth their urgent care and attention if we ain't white. That's number one. Number two... I got a acting gig in New York that I got called to go do. This could be it for me." Pac sniffed.

"Acting gig?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"It's for a movie shot in Harlem. That's why I was gone for a few days from school.. I went down there to audition. I should've told you, but I figured you wouldn't get it." He shrugged.

"I don't get it, you wanna be a actor?" I dimmed my eyes.

"I wanna be many things... I will be many things. That's for another time though, so... You down?" Tupac nudged me.