Prison Throne (11 page)

Stupid old bitch!

Rasim threw his phone against the wall and it crashed and scattered to the floor. He dropped down, squatted and placed his hands over his face. His gut rolled and he felt like he was on the verge of throwing up.

There’s nothing worse than losing somebody you thought would always be there and now Rasim understood true pain.

When he was fucking around with them bitches, he honestly thought that Snow would never depart. If he believed that she would, he would have never overplayed his hand.

When he arrived home fully expecting to see her beautiful face, what he found was the empty side of her closet instead. After he kissed her kitty for hours straight the night before, he was certain that he’d done enough to reel her back in. Besides, she loved that shit. But Snow came to the conclusion that he wasn’t a good guardian of her heart, so she took the key back and bounced.

The first day turned into a week. The weeks turned into a month and Rasim was still hopeful that Snow would return. He even visited her school only to learn that she withdrew.

He decided to pay Mute Candy a visit and of course it didn’t end well. In her usual manner, she cursed him out but felt bad hours later when she remembered how hysterical he was. To repent, she went to his house and prepared enough food for Rasim to last a week and left. But her loyalty lay with Snow so that would be the extent of her help. She would not have done that but Snow took care of that man for over six years and she felt he needed a fair start.

Rasim couldn’t accept how much time had passed without holding Snow and making love to her. He always said she was his heart but now he understood it physically.

Before long, two months turned into seven and Rasim lost so much weight he was almost unrecognizable. Since he was already slim, Rod from uptown accused Rasim of hitting the pipe. The trouble was word got back to Donald and he repaid Rod for the slight with two shiny black eyes.

Although broken, Rasim would appear on the block every day but do nothing but bring his homies down. It’s a good thing Donald was in charge because he made certain that the crew picked up his slack. Nobody minded much. They all loved Rasim like a brother and they hated the pain he was in…again.

To make matters worse, he hadn’t spoken to his father, who also refused to let him see his mother. He was really alone. So he wrote him a letter apologizing for not being the son he wanted him to be and begged him once more to not involve himself with Al-Qaeda. He also begged him to reach out to him. Kamran never responded.

It was seven o’clock a.m. on a Tuesday morning when his cell phone rang. His home phone was turned off so he didn’t receive calls there. He reached for this phone, which was on the table next to the bed. “Hello,” he said in a low voice.

“Hey, sexy. It’s me. Selena.”

Rasim frowned. “Choke on a bag of dicks, bitch,” he said so calmly Selena wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.

She wouldn’t get a chance to ask either because he ended the call and tossed the bitch to the bed. Selena had single handedly caused him to lose Snow and he couldn’t stand the sound of her name or her voice any longer.

As he lay in bed, he focused on the ceiling. One hand rested on his thin chest and the other behind his head. After so much time, he finally came to the realization that Snow was gone.

Possibly forever.

He had to pull himself together and move on with his life or else he would fall deeper into despair. Although he would never forget Snow, his heart told him that if they were meant to be, she would come back but only if the time was right.

Rasim eased out of bed, stepped over his clothes and the dirty dishes that littered the floor. He made plans to come back later that night and clean up his room and life.

When he was done he showered, slipped on his clothes and hopped in his car. As he drove down the road, he was amazed at the sapphire colored sky. Not a cloud was present and in a way it matched his mood…peaceful, relaxed and calm.

When he parked on the block, Rasim sidled out of his car and dapped Donald, Brooklyn and Chance before sitting on the step.

“This for you, man.” Chance handed Rasim a cup of hot coffee.

Brooklyn tossed a white bag in Rasim’s lap. “That’s a glazed donut. We bought extras in case you wanted one and shit.”

Rasim nodded in appreciation of his amigos and they noticed something different. His features were softer and not as distressed and it was obvious that he had gone through the worst stage of the storm.

Donald placed a firm hand on his shoulder and said, “Welcome back, homie.”

With the sentiments of the heart out of the way, Donald decided to take the attention off his friend. “So Kelly was mad at me again today,” he said referring to his wife.

“What you do this time?” Rasim asked, contributing to the conversation. It was the first time he uttered a word outside of
I need Snow
in months.

“You know how women are. I wasn’t feeling good so she wanted to stay home from work to take care of me. I told her to go ‘head because sick or not, I was hitting the block.”

Brooklyn crossed his arms over his chest and jammed his hands under his armpits. “Hold up, you sick and you just shared a blunt with me a minute ago in the car?” he questioned, pointing at him.

“You ain’t gonna die, nigga. You can’t catch what I got anyway.”

“You said that shit the last time and I had the flu for a month,” Brooklyn continued. “It’s real foul that I eat right but I still get sick fucking with you nasty ass niggas.”

Rasim shook his head and peered up at Donald. He did seem ill but in his lovesick haze he never noticed before. “Do you know what’s wrong, slim?”

Donald kicked at nothing on the ground. “The doctor trying to say it’s cancer and shit but he can suck my dick.”

Rasim, Chance and Brooklyn surveyed him with wide eyes. Donald acted as if he had a cold and now they discovered it was something fatal.

Concerned, Rasim sat his coffee and bag on the ground and approached him. “When were you gonna tell us that shit?”

Donald waved it off. “I’m telling ya’ll now,” he responded as he looked over their heads at more of nothing. He was trying to stall and get off of the subject. “And please don’t start with me. I heard enough from my wife.” Donald wiped his hand from his forehead to the back of his scalp. His hands dropped down and he decided to keep shit genuine. “I just keep thinking about my girls, you know?” He looked at Rasim and then the fellas. “If I die, what’s gonna happen to them?”

“On my dick, your kids gonna be straight,” Brooklyn said shooting from the heart. He could’ve worded it a bit differently but they were hood niggas who loved deep.

“I feel the same,” Chance responded. “You’ll never have to worry about shit in the way of them girls. Believe that.”

Rasim stared directly into Donald’s eyes. “You already know my heart. As long as I got breath in my body, your girls gonna be raised like they mine.”

“Oh my God,” Trina from across the street yelled, crashing the somber mood. “We under attack!”

Now, Trina was known to be a little over the top at times but something told Rasim that this situation was different. So he jogged across the street and put his hands softly on her shoulders as he gaped at her. “What’s wrong with you?”

Trina’s red face was sweaty and she appeared to be hyperventilating as she looked up at the icy blue sky. “Bombs just hit the World Trade Center in New York! We under attack!”

Suddenly a few older busybodies rushed outside of the building too. This was odd because they never emptied their apartments until it was time to unload a cheap bottle of vodka and discuss the latest scandal on the front step.

Yet there they were, embracing each other as they muttered what Trina had just said. That the United States was under attack.

When Rasim looked behind him he saw Donald, Chance and Brooklyn trot toward the elderly ladies. Rasim felt as if things were moving in slow motion and he couldn’t hear a sound until Trina wiggled out of his grasp. He forgot that he was even holding her.

Rasim watched as the women said something to Donald to cause his face to distort. Whatever was communicated forced him backwards as he crashed to the ground like he missed his chair. Never down for long, he hopped up and sprinted toward his silver Infiniti, slid over the hood and jumped into the driver’s seat.

Rasim rushed over to Brooklyn and Chance to get the word but both of them were holding their heads while their mouths hung open.

“What’s wrong with Donald?” Rasim yelled.

Chance’s eyes flapped a few times as if he were trying to wake up from a horrible dream. When Rasim rocked him roughly, Chance finally said, “The World Trade Center towers were hit by two planes. And the Pentagon too.”

“So what’s wrong with Donald?” Rasim asked, unable to follow how Donald was directly related. If they were at war, everyone was in trouble not just him.

“His wife works at the Pentagon, man,” Brooklyn whispered.

Now it was clear.

Rasim whipped his head in the direction Donald moved. There was no way he was letting him drive alone in the frantic condition he was in. So he bolted across the street just as a DC Cab was speeding his way. Angry, Rasim slapped the hood once when it stopped, before he dipped toward the passenger seat of Donald’s car.

Rasim slipped inside and at first Donald’s eyes rolled around and he glared at him but Rasim didn’t care. He was going with him whether he wanted to or not. “I’m riding, man,” Rasim said as he watched tears roll down Donald’s face. “I can’t let you be out here by yourself.”

Donald, who was always the big bad bear, broke down in tears as he jerked his car into traffic. He recited repeatedly that he couldn’t lose his wife. That he would die without his family and be on some serial killer shit. Although Rasim was not married to Snow, he knew the pain of losing the one you loved.

             
When Rasim’s keys fell to the floor and he bent down to retrieve them, Donald stopped suddenly and held Rasim’s head down with a firm grip to the back of his neck. Rasim saw his life flash before his eyes.

Donald was about to kill him.

Seconds later, gunfire blasted into the car in all directions, moving the car with small thuds. Shards of glass bounced off the back of Rasim’s neck as Donald’s grip lessened.

             
Tires screeched and an engine revved up and Rasim knew what happened. His best friend was just murdered.

             
Slowly Rasim raised his head and Donald’s hand slid off of him. Broken glass clinked as it poured off of his body and bounced against the floor. He looked out ahead of him, through the shattered windshield, afraid of facing Donald just yet.

             
Donald had pushed Rasim down to save his life and because of it, he still breathed. He was a real nigga to the end.

             
His neck muscles tensed as he forced himself to rotate his head in Donald’s direction. It was more catastrophic than he thought. Rasim’s hands shook as he saw the condition they left the homie in. His skull was blasted open, which exposed the frontal lobe of his brain. His face was shredded and not one of his features remained.

If he hadn’t jumped inside of his car, he would’ve sworn the corpse to his left was not his man.

              Heartbroken yet again, Rasim dragged his fingers down the sides of his face and howled.

****

Rasim spent an hour at the hospital saying the same thing repeatedly to the officers. That he had no clue who killed Donald Guzman. Of course it was bullshit and the detectives knew it too. But it was a street matter and was not in their department.

Eventually the interrogation ceased.

During that time, Rasim learned that Donald’s wife perished in the Pentagon attack. A large piece of debris struck her over the head, stealing her from her family in the process.

It was at that time that Rasim remembered
that Donald’s twin daughters would probably be alone. So he picked them up from school.

As he drove
down the road, he glanced at them in the backseat. He was amazed that with all of the calamity happening around them, they were totally unaware. Their pink book bags sat in their laps and he asked himself, where would he take the children?

             
He went to Donald’s parents’ house and told them about their son and daughter-in-law’s death. They were upset at the loss of their only child and shed two tears apiece. But they refused to accept their grandchildren. So with nothing left to do, he took them to his house.

             
After he made them hot dogs with no bread and French fries, he watched them play with their dolls on the sofa. He was delaying the inevitable. He had to tell the children that their parents were gone forever.

Rasim stuffed his hands into his pocket and looked down at Amber and Cassie with pity. He reduced his height and stood on his knees. At first they felt Uncle Rasim was being strange because he was silent and real close to them. They hoped he wouldn’t try to touch their private parts that their father told them to protect. But after awhile, he told them how their lives would be changed.