and sell it.”
“Sell it?” Joseph asks, his eyebrows arching. “I didn’t know you owned that little shithole.”
“I bought it a few years back after she refused to move,” I explain.
“Huh.” Joseph takes another sip from his drink. “Didn’t even know you could buy a place like that.”
“You can’t, normally,” I say. “But I had to make it happen. If she insisted on living there even when there was no need to, I at least wanted to make sure that she wasn’t wasting money on rent.”
“Sure,” Josephs agrees. “Gotta’ be nice. To be able to do that shit for your family.”
I glance over to him. Joseph never made it out of the hood, and I know that a small part of him resents me for being successful away from this hell that we called home. I was willing to put in the kind of work that he always thought less of. I became a corporate snob and started my own company with what I learned during my early years as a trainee. It wasn’t all me, of course. If anything, I just reached for the hand that was held out to me. My mother worked her ass off to make this possible for me, she literally sold herself. How could I not make something out of myself? That woman didn’t deserve to be betrayed like that. It was bad enough that she knew about my vigilante activities. She had always been torn between pride and fright when it came to that. The thought I was running around, chasing bad guys never sat well with her. I know she worried, but she never asked a lot of questions, mainly because she was afraid of the answers, I’m sure.
But she understood. She understood where I was coming from and she knew I had good reasons to get involved. That’s the part that made her proud. The best part.
“I’d have prepared for her to live somewhere else,” I say, absentmindedly turning the glass between my hands. “I will never understand why she insisted on staying in this hood.”
Joseph huffs.
“Of course you won’t,” he says. “You left as soon as you could. But we’re not all like you. Some of us actually feel attached to our home.”
He doesn’t look at me, but he doesn’t have to for me to understand that he’s reproaching me for leaving.
“This neighborhood needs us,” he says.
“Maybe,” I admit. “But you know that most of those who stay are part of the problem.”
“What?” he asks, now turning to me with a sour expression on his face. “Like me? Or your mother? Or my fami—”
“Most! Not all!” I interrupt him. “Damn it, Joseph, you know what I mean. This community is infested with assholes that feed off each other.”
Joseph lets out an angry grunt instead of giving me a reply. We both take another sip of our drinks and sit together in silence for a while.
I haven’t gotten one step closer to solving my dilemma with Meadow. All I know is that she weakens me. Caring for someone in that way automatically creates a weak spot for you, and I know I care for that girl.
I made her squirm with pleasure, I made her moan in ecstasy, I made her smile. She’s mine now, my problem, my sweet dilemma. She has shown no desire to leave the apartment and get on with the life she was ready to throw away, and I haven’t suggested it for a while now. But we both know that things can’t go on like this. I can’t take care of her like a baby, and I’m growing uncomfortable with the idea of her living in my mother’s home. What I told Joseph about wanting to get rid of her stuff and sell the place was true. It was one of the reasons why I stuck around for longer than planned.
No one is expecting me back in Boston any time soon. My company was bought out by another one a few months back. That deal has been in the making for a very long time, and I was so relieved when it was all done because it not only provided me with a shit load of money, but also the freedom to embark on the next endeavor. Whatever that might turn out to be. My visit home was supposed to serve as a little timeout to
“Sell it?” Joseph asks, his eyebrows arching. “I didn’t know you owned that little shithole.”
“I bought it a few years back after she refused to move,” I explain.
“Huh.” Joseph takes another sip from his drink. “Didn’t even know you could buy a place like that.”
“You can’t, normally,” I say. “But I had to make it happen. If she insisted on living there even when there was no need to, I at least wanted to make sure that she wasn’t wasting money on rent.”
“Sure,” Josephs agrees. “Gotta’ be nice. To be able to do that shit for your family.”
I glance over to him. Joseph never made it out of the hood, and I know that a small part of him resents me for being successful away from this hell that we called home. I was willing to put in the kind of work that he always thought less of. I became a corporate snob and started my own company with what I learned during my early years as a trainee. It wasn’t all me, of course. If anything, I just reached for the hand that was held out to me. My mother worked her ass off to make this possible for me, she literally sold herself. How could I not make something out of myself? That woman didn’t deserve to be betrayed like that. It was bad enough that she knew about my vigilante activities. She had always been torn between pride and fright when it came to that. The thought I was running around, chasing bad guys never sat well with her. I know she worried, but she never asked a lot of questions, mainly because she was afraid of the answers, I’m sure.
But she understood. She understood where I was coming from and she knew I had good reasons to get involved. That’s the part that made her proud. The best part.
“I’d have prepared for her to live somewhere else,” I say, absentmindedly turning the glass between my hands. “I will never understand why she insisted on staying in this hood.”
Joseph huffs.
“Of course you won’t,” he says. “You left as soon as you could. But we’re not all like you. Some of us actually feel attached to our home.”
He doesn’t look at me, but he doesn’t have to for me to understand that he’s reproaching me for leaving.
“This neighborhood needs us,” he says.
“Maybe,” I admit. “But you know that most of those who stay are part of the problem.”
“What?” he asks, now turning to me with a sour expression on his face. “Like me? Or your mother? Or my fami—”
“Most! Not all!” I interrupt him. “Damn it, Joseph, you know what I mean. This community is infested with assholes that feed off each other.”
Joseph lets out an angry grunt instead of giving me a reply. We both take another sip of our drinks and sit together in silence for a while.
I haven’t gotten one step closer to solving my dilemma with Meadow. All I know is that she weakens me. Caring for someone in that way automatically creates a weak spot for you, and I know I care for that girl.
I made her squirm with pleasure, I made her moan in ecstasy, I made her smile. She’s mine now, my problem, my sweet dilemma. She has shown no desire to leave the apartment and get on with the life she was ready to throw away, and I haven’t suggested it for a while now. But we both know that things can’t go on like this. I can’t take care of her like a baby, and I’m growing uncomfortable with the idea of her living in my mother’s home. What I told Joseph about wanting to get rid of her stuff and sell the place was true. It was one of the reasons why I stuck around for longer than planned.
No one is expecting me back in Boston any time soon. My company was bought out by another one a few months back. That deal has been in the making for a very long time, and I was so relieved when it was all done because it not only provided me with a shit load of money, but also the freedom to embark on the next endeavor. Whatever that might turn out to be. My visit home was supposed to serve as a little timeout to
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