Oh, Pineapples.

9: Sugar Coated hookers.

(Javadd's point of view)

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"... if life is a movie, then you're the best part."

-Daniel Caesar x HER,' best part'
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• Javadd •

"Yes mum, I know exactly what to do." I said monotonously.

It was a relief that I hadn't been having the current conversation with her face to face because even being as old as I was, I could never bring myself to lie to my own mother's face. She had that kind of influence, it was no surprise that my father had married her. Her shrewd business like wisdom made it easy for her to maneuver through the underground business world which was male dominated. She never let anyone ever intimidate her or see through her true demeanor that was hidden under whatever persona she wanted you to see.

A little like Jasmine, a thought from my subconscious surfaced.

"Clearly you're not doing enough," something shuffled from the end of the line. Probably papers, she always had something to do.

I dismissed the phone call, as I'd decided that was where the conversation would end. It wasn't like she would have anything more to say, she rarely spoke to me anymore— anyone could have figured out that it had all started the night she and I had so anxiously waited on the doctor's response from the ER.

_-_-_-_-_

"Mrs O'Brien," a lady in a blue crisp uniform layered under a lab coat wearing sanitary gloves and a face mask, pulled down to her chin, a sombre expression on her face that told me all I needed to know.

"You're his son, right?" She unnecessarily asked and I still nodded.

"I'm sorry—he couldn't...he couldn't make it."

And that was all it took for my own mother to fall apart right in my arms. For the first time in my life I had seen her cry and for a moment, the sight unfolding right before me triggered a deep sadness that momentarily made me forget that my own father had just passed away. Her uncontrollable sobs filled the whole room, feeling nothing short of contagious, and for the first time in a long time, I cried, silently, holding on to my mother's embrace desperately, as though letting go of her would bring me to face a harsh reality.

My father. My own father was dead.

The nurses voice slowly faded in the background, but still she spoke—the grief I felt in the pit of my stomach drowned out whatever it was she was explaining.

"...loss of blood.. besides the brain haemorrhage...gunshots sustaining injuries... couldn't survive any of it..." The bits of what she said felt like pieces of a puzzle I would join together when I'd be in a better state of mind.

Without looking at the nurse's direction, I figured she'd left the room when her trainers squeaked against the tiled floor of the hospital.

Face void of emotion, my mother separated herself from me and sat back in the cold metal chair next to mine, recomposing herself as she stared at nothing particularly, just the empty space in front of her with her eyes bloodshot, the light from the chandelier above illuminating her sharp facial features.

"I will find the person who killed Marcus, this—this is the one promise I am making," she sniffled, her gaze still plastered on the wall that faced us. "I will find them and I will take away from them person they love the most." She declared.

And it was at that moment I looked into my mother's bloodshot eyes,I realized that something had switched off in her, making her seem robot like.

That night, although I would never admit it, I had lost my father along with my own mother too.