Dying to Live

[Caesar]

Nothing was the Same

“I don’t understand why you can’t just go a parade around here if you want to go so bad. Artemis and Mid City are both this weekend,” Rana said.

The sound of dishes clinking in the sink echoed through the kitchen as she scrubbed them furiously, her jaw tight with frustration. Royce sat at the table in the dining area across from her, his arms crossed, staring at his phone.

The tension between them had been simmering all week, ever since Royce mentioned wanting to go back to Houma for the Mardi Gras parades. Rana immediately shot the idea down, but Royce wasn’t willing to let it go.

“You the one always fucking saying I need to get out of the house,” he said. “Now, when I want to fucking go do some shit you want to tell me go some booty ass Baton Rouge parade.”

“Stop cursing in my house,” she said. “What if Roni hears you?”

“You’re just trying to change the subject. Them niggas Tyrell be having here be barking, cursing and all that shit and you don’t say a damn thing.”

“Tyrell pays bills here. Do you?”

“Can’t go get a job if you refuse to let me out the house to do shit. You supposed to be the smart one, ain’t you?”

Rana slammed the towel down into the sink, water splashing up onto the counter. She turned around, her eyes flashing with angry and worry. “You’re not fucking going, Ro. I don’t know why I keep having to say this. Unless you got some way to get back to Houma that I don’t know about then you might want to go and livestream a parade.”

“I’m just trying to feel some normal shit. I’m trying to go be around my people. You act like I’m the one who was shooting it out with niggas. I’m not trying to hide forever. Once this semester over, I’m going back home anyway.”

“Says who?”

“Me. I ain’t no bitch. Both Jamie and Jeremi in jail. If one of they cousins or something want to send a hit, let them do it, but I’m not running.”

“Do you hear yourself? Romeo is dead because of—”

“Because of me? That’s what you’re going to say, huh? Last I checked, I didn’t pull the trigger and I was up in that hospital, too,” he said, gesturing to his leg.

“No, I wasn’t going to say because of you,” she said, her face twisting in frustration. “All I’ve done is try to help you, and I’m trying to help you now. If it’s something that make a lick of sense, you don’t want to do it. But you want to go back to Houma just because. How about you go to some damn therapy if you can’t see how this is a dumb choice right now?”

Royce sucked his teeth. “Here you go with that shit again. If you wanted to help me so bad, you’d see I need this. I don’t like being up here. I didn’t grow up here. I don’t know people around here. You don’t get it because you ran as soon as you could. You would if you didn’t turn your back on where we came from?”

“That’s some child ass thinking, Royce. There are people struggling everywhere. You’re not special. But that doesn’t change the fact I’m trying to keep you alive when you’re too stubborn to see the road you’re headed down.”

“Man, fuck this,” he said, pushing away from the table, ignoring the pain in his leg as he leaned too heavily on it. “You’re not my fucking mama. I’m gonna get down there and you can just sit up here and be pissed off.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and sharp.

Rana waved him off and snatched up the towel, going back to scrubbing the dishes. “Do what you fucking want then. But I might not be your mama, but your own fucking mama doesn’t want you down there either. When you see her up the bayou, ask her how many times she’s called up here since that’s your people.”

He snatched his phone from the table. “Whatever, man. Ain’t nobody trying to hear all that.”

“Well, you need to. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove and who you’re trying to prove it to, but you don’t typically go back to a place where you were bleeding out on the street just six months ago. That’s fucking dumb.”

“I ain’t doing this with you. I don’t need your permission,” he said starting toward the hall.

“You—”

“I’m done talking.”

Rana sighed, her washing of the dishes moving toward a more normal pace.

~~~~~~~~~~

Music blasted from the floats, brass bands played with infectious energy while beads and throws rained down from above, people scrambling to catch them. The smell of food wafted through the air as paradegoers and vendors cooked up the wide range of parade fare down on the bayou.

Royce sat on the tailgate of Jonah’s truck, having convinced him, Malik and Alix to go to a parade in Houma with him. Nearby, Jonah was having the time of his life as Arianna danced on him and encouraged him to take shots. Toni and Deshawn chatted while Alix and Malik tried their luck at beating seasoned veterans to the better throws.

Glancing down the street through the crowd of people, Royce laughed to himself as he watched Mike-Mike talk to his new girlfriend, probably trying to convince her to give him some as Royce could remember himself doing back in the day.

The packed streets around him were exactly what Royce was looking to be in the middle of. A step down from New Orleans, but something that put the single filed streets of Baton Rouge to shame. It was home.

Donnie, Ervin, Ahmad and Basil pushed their way through the crowd, plates of wings in one hand and nondescript cups that likely held daiquiris in the other – the telltale sign of the Houma Police Department’s lax enforcement of drinking laws whenever Mardi Gras season hit. Until the end of the parades when they’d make their quotas with minor in possession summonses.

Donnie was the first to notice Royce.

“Oh, shit. What’s good, my nigga?” Donnie said, putting the plate down on the tailgate to dap Royce up. “You back in town?”

“For the parade, yeah,” Royce said, dapping up Ervin, Ahmad and Basil as well.

“The streets still fucked up about what happened to your brother, man,” Basil said, pouring some of his daiquiri out on the ground. Ervin, Ahmad and Donnie did the same. “I don’t know why niggas can’t just fight and if you get your ass whupped then you get your ass whupped.”

Royce shrugged. “It is what it is. Appreciate it, though.”

“How’s living in BR? Shit probably lit, huh?” Ahmad asked.

“Boring as fuck if we keeping it real. All I do is go to school and go back to my sister’s house. I’m trying to convince my people to let me move back at the end of the semester.”

Donnie nodded over his shoulder to Jonah. “I’m assuming that white boy with Arianna with you which mean the only other white person out here with you, too. And if she’s what you hanging around with, I don’t know. I might stay up there.”

“I did see her when we were walking over. She fine on some shit,” Ervin said, nodding in agreement.

Royce shook his head. “That’s her boyfriend or whatever next to her. Y’all go take it up with him.”

“Can he fight?” Basil asked. “Because he brave bringing her out here if he can’t.”

“No clue. You can go find out if you want, but don’t be crying when you getting the piss bat out of you in front the whole hood.”

Basil pointed at Royce and nodded. “You right. That shit would be embarrassing as fuck.”

“You gonna be able to play ball next year?” Ahmad asked, changing the subject. Ervin, Donnie and Basil all shot him looks.

“Nah, my football days over. I’m just trying to finish out this last year of school then go work out Fourchon or something. My sister’s nigga work at a plant, but he said you need a two-year degree to even get on so that’s out the window,” Royce said.

“A degree to work at a plant in the heat? We used to be a country,” Donnie said, shaking his head. “How these white boys gonna drop out in their senior years and go break their backs for 30 years for $50k now? A whole lot of dudes gonna be mad that their pathways to easy pussy drying up.”

Royce snorted a laugh, thinking about his dalliances with Heidi that occurred for the same reason.

Royce zoned out a bit as the four of them changed the subject to what was going on at Terrebonne, happy to feel like it was still six months ago before everything happened.

…

The dying echoes of the parade were fading as Royce, Arianna and Toni walked down the quiet streets on the other side of the bayou from the route, headed toward his mother’s house. The noise of the crowds was replaced by the steady rhythm of their footsteps and the occasional rumble of truck speeding down the main road, trying to navigate the blocked off streets of downtown Houma.

Royce’s leg was aching more with each step, but he kept his face impassive, being the one who had the idea to walk instead of waiting for Jonah or Deshawn to get their cars out of the mess that would follow the parade.

Arianna glanced at Toni, who only gave a subtle nod. They’d agreed to join Royce after he mentioned wanting to visit his mother, but they knew that it wasn’t going to end well.

“You sure you want to see her tonight?” Arianna asked, her voice casual but probing. “You know how Tee Rash be working working. She’s probably asleep.”

He shrugged. “I ain’t gonna walk halfway to the house then turn around. And she doesn’t work on parade nights.”

Arianna exchanged another look with Toni. It was an open family secret that Rashida hadn’t taken the death of Romeo particularly well. Open to everyone except Royce that was. He’d only seen his mother once since the shootings, and that was while he was still in the hospital.

The familiar sight of the house came into view. Paint chipped along the edges, the front steps sagged with age. It looked like the house had aged 100 years since the last time Royce had seen it, the signs of neglect beginning to look more apparent.

Royce’s pace slowed slightly as they neared, flashbacks of watching Romeo gunned down on that very street returning to him. Pain springing up again in all the places he himself had been shot.

Toni stopped, putting a hand on his arm. “We can come back, Ro. Y’all staying down here, right? We can come in the morning after everyone got some sl—”

Before she could finish, Reg stepped off the porch.

“What you doing here?” he asked Royce.

Royce continued to walk forward toward the walkway. “Coming to see Ma.”

Reg shoved him back. “She don’t wanna see your ass. She told you that already, but you ain’t listen. That’s always been your problem, though.”

“Nigga, I know your fiend ass not talking like you the perfect son right now. You ain’t got some dope to go chase?”

“Carry your ass back to Baton Rouge. Ain’t nobody here waiting to see you. Make sure you pass by New Rising Sun on your way out of town so you can remember what you did.

Arianna took a step closer, trying to intervene. “C’mon, Reg. Stop being a bitch, bruh. Just let him see her.”

“Y’all picked your side already so I ain’t talking to you. Rome dead ‘cause of him. Ma don’t want to see his ass,” he said before turning back to Royce. “Go home, nigga.”

“Move out the way. I ain’t letting no clucker tell me what to do,” Royce said, going to shove past Reg.

Reg threw his shoulder into Royce’s chest, knocking him back. Royce’s leg stretched back to steady himself, but the explosion of pain that shot through the bone sent him stumbling onto the cracked pavement.

Toni rushed forward to help Royce up, but he waved her off as he sat on the ground, clutching his leg as his face contorted in pain.

“You dead to Ma, nigga. She told you that and she meant it. You took Romeo from her. Don’t come back around here no more,” Reg said, glaring down at Royce.

Arianna joined Toni in trying to help Royce up again, but he all but shoved them away, too proud to accept help in front of Reg. Reg stood there for a moment longer before turning around and heading back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

“You good?” Toni asked, her voice soft.

Royce didn’t answer, his jaw clenched as he leaned back on his hands, trying to catch his breath. His leg throbbed, and the humiliation stung more than the physical pain. He stared at the sky, refusing to meet Arrianna or Toni’s gaze.

Arianna sat down next to Royce. “We’ll just wait for one of the others to make it through the traffic instead of walking back.”

Royce remained silent, sitting on the curb, his leg stretched out awkwardly in front of him. The sounds of the ending parade were still in the background, but all he could hear was his own labored breathing and the pounding of his heart.

[Soapy]

Son can't even step to a crackhead smh

[djp73]

Long road back to the field. Wondering when and how we get there at this point.

[Captain Canada]

This dude stubborn as hell. Like djp said, wonder how he's going to get to football.

[djp73]

Watch Ceasar drag this shit out 20 years and the rtg is really Romeo Lafitte II

[Soapy]

Watch Ceasar drag this shit out 20 years and the rtg is really Romeo Lafitte II

i'll shoot that little niglet myself

[djp73]

[Caesar]

Setback

Tyrell walked into the kitchen, tossing his work jacket onto the counter as he spied the pot of jambalaya on the stove. The rich smell of spices filled the air, a contrast to the tension that had settled over the house.

He grabbed a spoon out of the sink and went to scoop a bit of the jambalaya up.

“That’s not finished,” Rana said as she walked into the dining room with a basket full of laundry.

“Well, shit,” he said, but used the spoon to pick out a couple slices of smoked sausage anyway, He’d eaten worse in his life.

Rana sat down at the kitchen table and began folding the laundry, her shoulders heavy with worry. Her motions were stiff and shaky at the same time.

Tyrell walked around to the table to sit down next to her, leaning over to unstring his boots. “You good?”

She didn’t respond immediately. Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh. She looked up, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“I’m guessing you’re talking about Royce.”

She nodded, tossing a shirt onto the table. “I’m in over my head. I thought I could handle it. I’ve basically raised Roni, and it was no different than I’d been doing before I left Houma. I figured it should’ve been easy, taking care of him, helping him through all this. Shit, he’s basically a man. But…” her voice cracked slightly, and she took a moment to steady herself. “He’s not the same kid I remember. He barely talks anymore. He’s angry all the time. And after the other day? Shit’s all fucked up.”

Tyrell placed his hand on her arm. “It’s a lot. You’re doing your best, but you said what the problem is. Roni looks up to you. You’re her big sister. All you had to do was do right and she’d do right. Royce is a young man. He’s been done there living different for years. There wasn’t a man in that house.”

“My best isn’t good enough apparently. I know he’s been through a lot. But I thought I could fix it and apparently I can’t. I can’t even get him to talk to me but once or twice a month.”

“He’s still grieving, babe. He saw his brother get gunned down in front of him, got gunned down himself,” he said, sitting back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest as he thought for a moment. “Losing a sibling is hard enough on his own, but losing your twin brother like that? That’s without even mentioning y’all mama blaming him for it.”

Rana scoffed and snatched up the shirt to start folding again. “That’s because they saw Romeo as the ticket out the hood. Ro ain’t no saint, but Rome was right there with him headfirst since they came out the womb. That woman got some shit with her. He shouldn’t have gone down there. I tried to tell him what was going to happen.”

“Sometimes, you gotta find out on your own. That’s part of growing up. And not for nothing, but it’s definitely part of being a man.”

“I’m just not equipped for this, and I don’t know what to do. He can’t go back to Houma unless he goes live with Ma Beulah, but that doesn’t help anything.”

“Whatever you need, you know I got you.”

She looked at him, her expression softening. “I know, but you didn’t sign up for this shit. You didn’t sign up to raise Roni, let alone my teenage brother.”

Tyrell reached out to take her hand. “When I asked you to marry me, I signed up for all the other stuff. Plus side is that when we got a couple mini-mes running around here, I won’t just beat they ass when they act up because I’ll be in my gentle parenting era.”

Rana laughed, but tears started to well up in her eyes and she blinked them away. “I just feel like I’m failing him. He had as much potential as Rome.”

“You’re not,” he said, squeezing her hand. “He just needs to come to the realization on his own. Whether he really died on that night and now he’s just a ghost going through the motions, or he wants to live again.”

“I just want him to be okay.”

Tyrell pulled her chair closer to him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head against his shoulder. “He got it. Just give him some time.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the park Royce had ambled to, opting to make use of his crutches with paint still radiating through his leg anytime he put any kind of weight on it.

On the opposite side of the park from the weathered bench that Royce sat on, a group of kids played basketball as their parents watched on. Their laughter carried across the air despite their terrible technique and less than ideal shot selection. It was fun, and that was all that mattered to them.

He looked down at the ground, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Royce’s hands trembled slightly as he clenched them into fists, trying to contain the swell of emotion that had been lingering on his chest for the past few days. The physical pain was a constant reminder, but the emotional gut punch of being discarded by his own mother lingered like a wound that refused to heal.

Picking up his phone from where it lay on the bench next to him, he scrolled through his Instagram, an account that he hadn’t updated since that night. He came across Britni’s page, clicking on her name to bring it up.

After all these months, she still had a picture of her and Romeo as the profile picture and her feed was a steady stream of pictures of the two of them. Her bio simply said “I’ll love you forever” with a dove emoji.

His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to fling the phone into the garbage can on the opposite side of the pathway.

He fought resentment that threatened to bubble up within him. Romeo died, but he was still alive. However, save for a few check-ins, it seemed as if the part of their slice of the world had ground to a stop, feeling as though both of them had died that night.

Just as his mother said.

Just as Reg had reminded.

Even in death, he was still playing second fiddle to Romeo. No matter how much he told himself he shouldn’t feel the way he did, he couldn’t stop the anger that continued to build in his chest at how it seemed he was only a part of people’s lives because of Romeo.

He was the one who made sure they had everything they needed.

He was the one who kept Romeo on the straight and narrow.

He was the one who kept Romeo out of trouble.

Until he wasn’t, and he was the one that started the fight that ended in Romeo’s death.

He wished he’d died on that pavement, too. Or in the operating room any of the three times the doctors said that he flatlined while they fought to save his life.

He had nothing. He didn’t have his brother. He didn’t have football. He didn’t have his family. He rubbed his hand across his face, leaning back to stare out at the park, unseeing. The world around him blurred at the edges as his thoughts spiraled.

What was the point of all of this? What was the point of trying to move forward, of trying to heal, when nothing was the same?

His phone buzzed in his hand, pulling him out of his thoughts for a brief second. Glancing down at the screen, he saw it was Rana. He ignored the call, letting it go to voicemail as he tossed it back onto the bench besides him.

He leaned back against the bench, crossing his arms over his chest as the wind picked up, blowing leaves across the park. The sky was beginning to darken, and soon the streetlights would flicker on. The kids playing basketball would leave with their parents and he’d be alone in the park.

He didn’t know how long he intended to stay there. Forever, maybe. He didn’t have a home anymore anyway. Was he really any better than the homeless men who stood on the side of the interstate exits shaking their cans for a few coins?

But as he sat there, one thing was true, he felt more lost than he ever had before.

[Soapy]

boohoo nigga.

get to tackling

[Caesar]

boohoo nigga.

get to tackling

Tell Kam go dig his parents up. And get his dead ass baby out the toilet.