This Christmas

For My Brother.

Ivory.

"Now, was that so hard?" Joy smiled, watching me happy dance across the room after I'd hung up from a call with Mama. She chuckled when I started moonwalking across the floor in my fuzzy white, red and green socks.

"Nah, you're right. It's not that hard, Joy!"

"Well, I mean, that call should've been easiest... she's your mom, after all." I froze mid-walk and spun around to give her a glare. "What? It's true. Out of everybody you're calling, she should've been tied for easiest person alongside your dad to persuade into coming."

"Way to rain on my parade, Joy." I pouted, then plopped back down on the bed.

"Hey, sorry." She threw her hands up in surrender. "Not trying to burst your bubble or anything. I just don't wanna see you get hurt if things don't go your way, so I wanna let you know all that could go wrong."

"It's nothing. Now, lemme see... who's next on my list?" I asked aloud, skimming over the list of relatives that were part of the original celebration. I'd crossed Mommy's name off, and under it was my 21 year old brother Isaiah.

Isaiah... only Lord knows what he's up to right now. He took the divorce way worse than I did, and he showed out. Thank everybody up in heaven that he got his act together in time to go to college on a scholarship, but he'd barely made it and from what I heard, he was having a rough time there. I wouldn't know; he never called me, and he never replied to my texts.

Part of the lack of communication felt like my fault. Wait, no, it was my fault. I could've tried harder maintain a relationship with my only brother, but my pride wouldn't let me. If he wanted to talk to you, he would've called by now, I'd thought. Or, I'd figured that I was giving him the space that college kids, including myself, needed after they got their first taste of independence. Excuses, excuses.

I had to dig through my contacts to find his number. Not because I had a lot of them, but because the last time I saw this fool, he saved his name as OGIcee in my contacts. Doofus. But when I found it and saw a picture of us two from our last reunion in Memphis, I knew it was my little brother. I dialed him up without a moment's hesitation. "Hello?"

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Isaiah. [ face in mm ]

Much like my vision did as I stared at the cieling, my stomach seemed to move in circles. I shot out of the covers, from next to this girl named Keiley I messed with, and made a mad dash to the bathroom after I figured what was up. Night of drinking, smoking, eating nachos and gas station taquitoes could only lead up to this, I told myself. I barely made it to the toilet before emptying out seemingly everything I've eaten since third grade.

After it was all over, I splashed some cold water onto my face. With squinted eyes, I fumbled under the sink for my mouthwash, which I gargled with then spit out. I looked up at myself; my bloodshot eyes made me ashamed of what lay on the other side of the glass. Me.

To say I was on my worst behavior was an understatement. I partied almost every weekend, I'm pretty sure I'd slept with half of the cheer squad (only the bad ones, though. Niggas have standards), and I gave no type of fuck about my grades. As long as I was still on the football team, I didn't care. Besides, I had a little nerdy bitch in majority of my classes that would 'help me' on my tests as long as I paid her a lick of attention.

I was a different Isaiah than who I was when I graduated high school. I - 'Studio' by Schoolboy Q invaded my reflection time, so I knew what that meant. I was getting a call, so with me being the 'player' everybody said I was, I had to go and grab it before Keiley's dumb ass got bold and answered it. I sprinted over to the chair which had my clothes on it, and I dug for my phone in my pocket.