Page 30 of Defending the Post (The Complexity of Love #3)

I laid into my father’s shoulder as I was emotionally drained. My baggage continued to leak into my life. It doesn’t seem like therapy was helping.

Erin

Hearing the details of abuse flow from his mouth made me emotional. I wept for him and Toni as she cried in her hands. Malcolm tried to comfort her, but her heart cried for Marquise. Rage flowed through his body and whomever this Winston was caused a wave of pain.

“I tried. I tried!” Toni cried into Malcolm’s chest.

My eyes watered as the pain bounced from her body to mine.

“Momma T, I know. You were a victim, too. Marquise doesn’t understand it. He needs time,” Malcolm said.

In this moment, helplessness fell on me and everyone else in the room. And I hate to admit it to myself, but my father’s words replayed in my head. Sometimes street justice is the only justice.

I could no longer watch Toni cry, prompting me to search for Marquise. I stepped outside to see him hugging Mr. Jefferies. I stood, not wanting to interrupt the moment until Marquise noticed me. He tapped his dad and moved in my direction.

“Baby, I. . .”

I paused him with my hand. “Don’t apologize. Can we go home? I want you to myself,” I asked.

Marquise looked back at his father before turning to me. “Yeah, I need to get my mind right,” he said.

“Take care of him, Erin, but call me if needed,” Mr. Jefferies said.

We locked hands and Marquise guided us to the side of the house and I’m thankful.

My heart couldn’t handle witnessing Toni cry again.

I knew each tear represented something hurtful as her soul cried.

The lights from the motion sensors popped on, but we kept moving.

The hellcat and Malcolm came into view. He rested against the car waiting for us, and I was unsure what to expect.

Malcolm comforted Toni in the living room, and now he was waiting for Marquise. My chest tightened at the possibility of another outburst or possible fight. We reached the car and Malcolm stood, squaring off with his twin.

“Quise,” Malcolm said, and hugged his brother hard, as if they didn’t live together. “You good to drive?” he asked, patting him on the back.

“Yea, I’m good. Is Mom, okay?” he asked as his voice trailed off toward the end.

“Mom and Khaira are cool. She is beating herself up for inviting Toni over. I can’t say you won’t get an invitation to the therapist this week,” Malcolm said.

“I already have an appointment with Dr. June tomorrow anyway,” Marquise said.

He’s back in therapy. I wanted to hug him but decided against it. Hopefully, she can help him process what happened tonight.

“Aight, man,” Malcolm said, and we parted ways.

“Baby, why do I feel like I did something wrong?” Marquise said as I wrapped my legs around his body.

I squeezed him as hard as I could as his tears landed on my skin. He hadn’t said much on the way home. If I had to guess, he was replaying the events in his mother’s living room, screaming his pain to his family.

“I don’t know, baby, but you needed to get it out,” I said as he cried.

The vibration of his chest and the soft wailing watered my eyes. If I could fix this for him, I would. No one ever talked about the residuals of hurt and abuse that you carried through life. It’s like finding glitter two years later, after you vacuumed a thousand times.

“Baby, don’t leave me,” he murmured.

I squeezed him harder, kissing the side of his head. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, which includes your hot temper and protective nature,” I said.

“Promise me, Erin,” he requested in a shaky whisper.

“Give me your eyes.”

Marquise lifted his head, and I examined the sadness draped on his face.

“I promise. I’m not going anywhere. Working in the music industry, I learned the most talented people are usually the most broken.

They surround themselves with yes people to face their inner battles.

You have people who care about you, including me.

We love you enough to call you out on things and help you pick up the pieces.

You’re going to have to work a little harder to get rid of me. I haven’t even spent your money yet.”

He kissed my face, and I giggled.

“You know you can have anything you want,” he said, planting more kisses on my neck.

“I have what I want and it’s you,” I said.

“Nah... I haven’t been spoiling you the way I should be,” he said, and I chuckled.

With Marquise’s head on my stomach, his feet dangled off the bed.

The repeated movement of his chest signaled he was asleep.

I wanted to join him, but my mind was in Chicago with my father.

Mom and I had made strides talking to each other every morning and the more I learned about her life in Florida, the more my resentment grew for my father.

I didn’t ever want to experience the pain I witnessed between Toni and Marquise with my parents.

I scrolled to his name and finally answered one of his texts.

Me

Daddy

Daddy

Are you okay? I miss you. Tell me you’re coming home.

Every question he asked was loaded. No, I am not okay and I missed Eldridge, not the street Pastor. Before I left Chicago, he would be the first person I’d call if I needed help. Today, I would never call my father because we held two different definitions of assistance.

Daddy

This silence is killing me. Your Uncle Maalik won’t tell me nothing.

It’s because he didn’t know anything. With the tour in full motion, wedding planning, and spending time with Marquise, my time was full. I still hadn’t selected a date to meet Uncle Maalik’s new girlfriend.

Me

I’ve been busy and no, I’m not moving back.

Daddy

I’ll fly out to L.A. for us to talk.

I rolled my eyes because I knew better than to believe his statement. He was coming to scout things for himself.

Me

No. We are not there yet.

Daddy

You are my daughter.

Me

Yes, and you lied to me.

My phone flashed with his name on my screen, but I muted it.

Me

Text first. We will work our way up to phone calls.

Instead of answering the text, he called yet again. This go around our relationship would be on my terms.

Me

Daddy, I will block you. We text first.

It took him five minutes to respond to my message.

Learning the street Pastor and my father were the same person stripped away the image I had of him.

For years, I heard rumors of this vigilante administering street justice.

The police and even the FBI were called in several times because of the piling bodies.

I knew my father took orders from no one, but I’m putting boundaries in place.

Daddy

For now, but I’m the parent.

Me

I’m grown and know better now.

I don’t care if he’s the Pastor on the streets. This time, I will not be blindsided. If he wanted a relationship with me, it came with a cost.

I sat next to Marquise, squeezing his hand as we sat across from Dr. June. The vanilla smell of her office and warm paint colors relaxed me. Upon entry, Marquise hugged her as if she was a family member. When I suggested it would be better for me to stay home, he objected.

“I lost control on Toni and spewed everything. It was bad. I thought I would feel better afterward, but I didn’t,” Marquise said.

With my hand tangled in his, I remembered what Jhae said. Sometimes showing up is being supportive.

“She said I wanted her to be the villain in my story and it’s been on my mind,” Marquise continued.

“I want to try something, Marquise. Close your eyes and explain to me how the villain appears to you, including appearance, taste, and smell. This will take you back to some painful memories. If things become too much, abandon the memory and lean on your support,” she said.

Dr. June gave me a warm smile as I squeezed his hand to remind him he had me. Marquise closed his eyes.

“Describe the villain,” Dr. June coached.

The room fell silent as we waited for Marquise to describe who hurt him.

“He is a giant with hard tight muscles. Dark gritted skin and a knife tattoo on his arm. Gold teeth with cigarette smoke coming from his wide nostrils. The eyes are black and cold. I can’t beat him. I can’t,” Marquise said with gritted teeth and his eyes popped open.

Tears rushed down his face as I pulled him into me. Dr. June remained in her seat as he cried, allowing me to lend comfort and caress his head. It took him twenty minutes to calm down, including walking. Once he sat back down, we proceeded.

“Marquise, are you in a place where I can recount who you described as the villain?” Dr. June asked.

He peered down at me and back at her. “Yes, I need to know who I explained. I can’t focus on basketball without knowing,” he said.

“Marquise, you describe a man with a muscular build. He has dark skin with a knife tattoo and gold teeth. He was a smoker and black cold eyes as your villain,” Dr. June said.

Again, we sat in silence. I knew Toni wasn’t the bad guy, but I sensed it by her tears. Malcolm also mentioned she was a victim, too. This therapy session was not meant for me to try to sympathize with my father. Maybe street justice did have a role in the world, but who was he to decide?

“Toni isn’t my villain, but why do I hate her?” Marquise asked Dr. June.

“That is up for you to decide. It could be for a variety of reasons, including access. I believe you have to deal with Winston before you can see Toni,” she said.

Marquise kissed my temple and strengthened the hold on my hand.

“Is it possible for me to... not hate Toni?” Marquise asked.

I squeezed his hand as I too wanted the same thing for him. The brief time I spent with Toni, she seemed to be a nice person. Somewhere deep down, I knew the little boy within him wanted his mother.

“If you keep showing up for yourself, creating boundaries and safe places, I believe you can have the relationship you desire,” Dr. June said to Marquise, but her eyes traveled to me.

In some way, she knew I needed those words for myself.