Page 43 of June: When Gangstas Collide

I stayed back as Nyomi came walking down the driveway. Her café was pretty popular, but her reputation wasn’t the best. It piqued my curiosity why she would be here, of all places. She slid her dark shades over her face as she got into her car and sped off. When she did, I then had Franklin, my driver, pull into the driveway. I admired the house; it was of the deepest black, with a jungle feel. I didn’t know much about June, but what I did know was that this house represented him very much. It was dark, mysterious, soulless, and angry.

My visit was to figure out a way to apologize, to give him peace of mind, to answer any questions he had, and to give my grandson a chance. When I walked up to the door and rang the bell, I became nervous, scared that he would reject me and not accept my sincere apology. Thinking I would be greeted with his face, I was met with a gun’s barrel. For a moment, I wondered if he pulled the trigger, and I were face to face with God, would he forgive me for my sins? Would he forgive me for all the times I turned a blind eye to the mistakes I made with Grace, my greed, my loyalty to a man who meant no good, and for my wrongdoing to my grandson.

After noticing it was me, June’s hand slowly eased down, but the grimace he gave me made me uncomfortable.

“Fuck you want, granny?”

I tried to smile, but I couldn’t.

“I want to talk, and before you close the door on me, I want you to hear me out, please.”

I’m sure somewhere in his heart was the little boy who had been searching high and low for his family, and if it was, I knew that part of him would let me in. The look of confusion but curiosity settled in his eyes as that frown slowly disappeared. His arms relaxed as he stepped back to let me inside. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but his home was refreshing with all the plants, dark décor with orange accessories bringing it all to life. It gave dominance with class. There were a few holes in the walls, broken picture frames, and a shattered table. Had he fought someone? Had the news Clark shared with him been so devastating that he could not bear it?

I stared at him and all I saw was Grace, how her eyebrows would turn in when she was confused, how her lip would curl up just slightly when she wanted to say something but was afraid to. He had her nose, lips, and eyes.

“I have somewhere to be. If you’re not going to talk, I need you to leave.”

I nodded. My mouth opened to say something, but I didn’t know where to start. I had never been lost for words. However, with June, I learned his tongue was sharp, he thought ten steps ahead, and he had no patience for nonsense.

“There is no excuse. There aren’t enough apologies I can give that will make you forgive me. I thought what we did back then was the right thing to do. I did not know Clark had messed with your name. I did not know he falsified everything, June. I am so sorry.”

His eyes cut me. They were hurt and angry.

“Because of you and Clark. I have no true identity. I have a nigga out here tearing my life apart because you both have destroyed me. My marriage,”

he gritted.

“My marriage to a woman that I love with every fiber in my body does not exist. My fucking children will be affected by this. Not being around my mother or getting to know her, I accepted it. Not getting along with my siblings, I’ve accepted that, but to have the only thing that I could stand on be taken from me now, that is unforgivable.”

My eyes watered because he was so hurt, so broken, yet so resilient.

“I don’t want you to be like Grace,”

I blurted out.

His nose flared as he stepped closer to me.

“I don’t want to be like her.”

“You don’t want to, but you are. All that anger is warranted, but it can destroy you like it did her. This thing between you and Bishop is the same thing that happened between his mother and your mother. The cycle is repeating itself. Grace and Angela were best friends until they were no longer friends. The hate was so deep that they were relentless in destroying each other until it fell upon their children. June, your mother was evil, she—”

“I see where she got it from,”

he mumbled.

I cleared my throat because he was somewhat right.

“She was someone that you would not have wanted to meet.”

I stuck my hand in my purse, pulled out an envelope, and gave it to him.

“Again, I’m sorry for everything. I am here if you need me for anything,”

I whispered before turning to leave.

I knew he would never forgive me, but I hoped at some point there was a way I could at least make something right.