#the saints really said oh? you wanna see a tragedy? bet

[lottieshauna]

you remember when you tried to become Catholic?

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SNOWFALL SEASON 1 Franklin (PART 3)

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Angst. Drama. Use of the n-word. Here is part (1),(2). 

Summary: You’ve seen the worst parts of him and the best parts of him and vice versa. That’s why you made a good pair, but the recent knowledge of his new life path has torn you both apart. However when tragedy strikes, it might be the thing you need to take another look at the Franklin you fell in love with.   

Word count: 8,350k / Please Consider leaving a Comment to show some love. It's oh so appreciated and encourages me to write more for y'all! 

In places it could touch, the sun beat down mercilessly on the cracked pavement under the highway, casting a harsh glare on the graffiti-covered walls amid the L.A heat. Secluded, hidden from view by the thick pillars, the smell of exhaust and garbage lingered thick in the air. Franklin held a hand over his face, body hunched by the aftermath of the hit. Leon stepped back, tilting his head to access the damage. The sound of cars whizzed above overhead.

“My bad nigga.”

Franklin turned to face him. Blushing red markings visible just over his eyebrow and the other sitting under his eye. Marks left deep. 

“This is a loaded fuckin’ gun!” He shouted. “What the hell is wrong wit’ you man!” 

Leon frowned and closed space, surprised by Franklin's rage. The lack of acceptance of the apology, caused Leon to scowl. The two stood close in face, eyes steady on the other. Hard and held in place. 

“You ain’t gotta be doin’ all that yellin’ aight,” he shouted back. “You wanna be a trigger man go’ head. It’s all you.” 

“Just-” Franklin waved him off and turned his back. He walked a few paces away until he stood in the line of a shadow. Feet planted firmly apart, eyes focused on the target in front of him. He took aim. His finger gently caressed the trigger. A sense of urgency resided in his movements, and a tension in the atmosphere that made his hands shake slightly stayed present. When he reloaded the gun, he did so with precision. Franklin took sight of the toy figures he'd sat up earlier that morning. He fired off several rounds.The sound of the shots echoed under the highway. Bullets hit just above the targets. Leon shook his head at another missed attempt. 

“Look man. Maybe this whole movie thing ain’t such a good idea tonight. Know what I'm sayin’? Feel like this might take a lil’ longer than we planned.” 

Franklin shook his head. “Naw. We can still do it.” He squeezed the trigger and the gun recoiled, the sound of the shot echoing off the concrete walls to a light spark that only lasted the split of a second before it faded. He quickly reloaded and fired again, each attempt hitting closer and closer to the center of one of the targets.

“But why?” Leon sounded from behind after four more bullets flew. “Shit seems irrelevant to what we got goin’ on.”

“Because I keep ma’ word Lee,” Franklin answered without hesitation. 

A small chuckle left the afro wearing gang member. “Naw, fuck all that. You got pussy on the brain, nigga. I mean, I get it. Not really the type of mindset we need right now, but, maybe if yo ass was gettin’ some, you would shoot better.”

Franklin frowned and shut his eyes for a moment baring his teeth in irritation. “Lee, shut the fuck up. Ain't no body thinkin' about no pussy right now, man. Bigger shit to worry about if you ain't kno.”

“Yeah, aight Saint. We can do this movie thing. How you know she still wanna talk to yo’ ass tho’. Bet you ain't called her since she got out the hospital, wit yo oh pussy whipped self, ” Leon said in effort to poke the bear. 

Franklin cracked his neck and squinted his eyes in the direction of the dinosaur in the middle of the two robots. “Clearly, been dealin’ wit’ a lot as you can see. If I don’t get that money back, I can forget the talkin’ period. Avi’s gonna kill me. Or worse, probably cut out my fuckin’ tongue.” He closed one eye and aimed down the barrel, lining up his shot. The loud bang echoed through the empty space, followed by the clatter of the bullet hitting metal in the distance. He took a moment to adjust his aim before firing again.

“Speaking of. We got time, we should roll up to his spot first.”

Franklin threw a glance over his shoulder to look at Leon. “Why?” 

“Because nigga. Maybe that motherfucka can give us some advice. Not like we in the position to be opposed to it. You act like I do this shit all the time. Besides, if you gon’ be a killer, may as well get the kno’ how from a professional.” 

Franklin took a deep breath and let it out slowly before firing off, this time, hitting one of the robots on the end.

…

Between all the tests and medication instruction, you were completely exhausted when you stepped through your front door with Cissy by your side, helping you keep steady and up right. God bless her, she did you this kindness after working long grueling hours for that prick of a boss, the day before. There was a dizziness that lingered a few hours afterward. Not to mention the slight headache that kept pounding at your brain like a nat that just wouldn’t leave, and when Cissy asked if you needed anything, the answer was always no. After all, she had done more than her share. 

Between you and your mother, you couldn’t be sure who threw up more that first night you came back. What you could be certain is that you’d both said less than three words to one another. Hardly even looked in each other's direction. Or asked if the other was okay. That word in its own right seemed a trivial thing, because of course neither of you were okay, and not likely to ever be okay again. 

You noticed how worn out she looked when Cissy had sat her down on the couch to talk. You could hear them from the bathroom as your bones found comfort in the heat of the water you laid. Her eyes were red and puffy. That was one trait that stuck. So puffy it was like she’d had an allergic reaction to something. She could barely open them. Tender skin, probably filled with parental regret. I could have done more. I should have been there to protect him. Why not me instead?

It was like Cissy knew all these things. These questions that your mother could not speak. Then again. She had experience. You could kill Franklin for lying to her. She might forgive the marijuana, but cocaine was a whole nother monster. You knew it would break her heart, yet despite the knowledge of such truth you never said a word. You never overstepped your boundaries when it came to Franklin and his mama. Remembering how Cissy assured your mother more than once that she had been a good woman, and that what happened was entirely out of her control, you kept your peace. 

“I’m here to help. I can bring you dinner before I head off to work so you don’t have to cook. But you both need to eat.”

If only you could explain that it hadn’t been her cooking that turned your stomach inside out. Of Course you could only speak for yourself, and since your mother had decided to take a vow of silence you could only assume that just like you, the sadness had caused an after taste of bitterness to sit on the tongue, so potent that anything you thought remotely tasted good before, was just like eating dog shit, fresh.   

That had been three days ago. Three days of depressive sleep and crying, not to mention, avoiding Ronnie’s room every chance you got. There was a part of you that wished it would disappear, and another part that hated the thought of it eventually being gone. Time would move on, and pretty soon his things would no longer hold space. You’d switch your thoughts to food. Standing there in your towel fresh out from the shower, phone in hand, you were starving. Your tummy let you know it every other second with a cramp and a grumble begging you desperately to feed whatever creature lingered inside, dormant and angry while you talked. Your grip on the phone grew tighter as you fought through another hunger pain to watch your mother walk past you and out the front door. You sighed only to focus on the voice speaking through on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah, okay. I will. I'll definitely think about it. And yeah, I'll absolutely keep you updated. Alright. Bye.” 

You listened to the click before the dial tone sounded as your smile fell. A wonder it had been on your face in the first place. Could it be decoded by the person on the other end, or did it more so aid the facade you were presenting? The one that said you were very much holding up and making it.

The puddle of water under your toes had grown since the duration of the conversation. The water dripped from different places, but mostly from the ends of your hair. With no desire to do anything about it, you reached over, holding the towel close at your breast to place the phone on the receiver before you turned. 

Your mother’s absence had no significant changes on the way you felt most of the time being home. Either with her there or without, a lonesome feeling remained. You liked the solitude but came to find your thoughts had a funny way of suffocating you. Another cramp swelled at your insides and you could no longer fight the desire for food.   

When you entered, the dishes greeted you. The kitchen area was small but functional. Modern appliances and a good sized dining table. The night you’d gone to Cho’s and got the news about Ronnie, your mother had asked you to clean them, but since your three day stay at the hospital, you hadn’t gotten around to it. The inner part of you that was susaquent to her approval had you walking up to the sink to start some water, but instead of give into the temptation of pleasing someone who had ignored you and who hadn’t bothered to visit on any of the three days, you B-lined and opened the refrigerator door to scan over your choices for food. 

Not many options, you reached down to grab the apple right before you noticed a plate that hid behind the milk carton. It was covered with silver tin foil. A meal Cissy had left, probably. You had slept many hours and only when time reached mid afternoon had you decided on a shower before the phone rang. 

You reached inside to grab it, with Franklin on your mind. 

Why hadn’t he called? 

You wanted to be mad but frustration warranted you to a harsh reality. The better question was why had you expected him to. 

You removed the foil and placed the plate into the microwave. Watched the light flick on, and walked away toward the hall once it started up. 

When you got to the living room you used the remote to turn on the tv that filled your home with the voices of strangers and an altered reality of forced happiness. 

The added pressure of passing Ronnie’s room had you sitting on the edge of your bed in a daze after you’d found a pair of shorts and tank top to wear. Your stomach was eating itself, but your leg bounced in cowardice and the dread of having to pass the door in order to get back to the plate of food waiting for you in the microwave. 

The law books didn’t help in your plight. They only served as harsh reminders of failure. You didn’t need anymore representations. The dream you had in the hospital, or whatever the hell it was, did its due diligence just fine. Why be tortured?  

You combed out your hair and rubbed vaseline over your legs and arms before you stood to your feet and looked in the mirror. You didn’t keep the focus long, hating how your eyes were reddened and almost like your mothers when you made the mistake of catching sight of polaroids taped at the top of your long mirror. 

There were many with different depictions of moments in time when you felt content. A picture of you with a group of friends at school at lunch. The time you’d captured your mother putting on her lipstick. You and Leon with matching afro’s, you and Melody playing dress up, Kevin with a group of girls in the hallway right before the bell rang before class. Your uncle on the grill. You and Ronnie riding bikes down the street, you there with Franklin with his arm over your shoulder, both of you smiling, and the one your mother had given you. A picture of your father, a younger Ronnie and a baby version of you in his arms.

You couldn't be sure which was worse, the seen or the unseen, but you made the decision to hold your breath when you walked past his room without looking. 

…

The food was cold by the time you made it back in the kitchen to retrieve the plate. With no desire to put it through another round of warm up, you went back to the living room and sat on the couch with the plate in your lap as you grabbed the remote and switched through channels until you settled on a station you liked.

Tuna casserole. Quick and easy for the most part, you were thankful for Cissy. 

Your spoon made a substantial scoop and finally you could put to rest the hunger pains while Good Times resumed its running episode, What’s happening to Florida?  

You laughed as you watched Thelma snatch JJ’s hat off, waking him up from his nap wrapped tightly in a pink and green patterned blanket, as he pleaded with a smile to allow her to finish some dream he’d gone on about. You took another bite of food, and little by little as you ate, became less and less hungry. 

When the commercial break happened you’d gotten up to retrieve a glass of water, only to return with the announcer going on about the big movie premier.

‘Ladies and Gents, you should get yourself down to a movie theater tonight, because Eddie Murphy and Dan Aykroyd will be debuting their hilarious new comedy as two very different men who Trade Places-’ 

The words had been drowned out by thoughts. Past thoughts of you and Franklin discussing the movie when the very first trailer dropped. You’d been at the park, each of you on a swing. 

“You gonna take me right?” You’d said only to fly slightly past his view. His eyes stayed on you, followed. 

“We can make a whole day out of it. Dinner first, then the movie.” 

Franklin had laughed. “You really tryna break a nigga’s pockets, huh?” 

You had frowned and slowed down your swing. “Boy, I'm very much worth it. Besides you can always get them ugly lil oh’ shoes you want later. Just cuz you wanna one up Leon.  But all that aside, we need to be there on opening night. No if ands or buts about it. So make it happen Frank.” 

You sipped the water as you remembered how he’d grabbed the chain on the swing and stopped you completely. Your eyes stayed on each other, and you couldn’t help but look at his lips, briefly before you'd gotten sassy with a head tilt with your own lips poked and coated lightly with the carmex you always kept on hand, ready to challenge whatever he would say. 

“Why you always gotta be there for opening night?” 

“I just do. Besides you know no one can keep their damn mouth shut. If you don’t see it right then, everyone usually ruin’s it.”

He had brought you closer and leaned in for a kiss. A kiss you had taken your time with. His last words, that the two of you would go.

You eased your grip on the glass and took a big gulp of water before you put it down and shut off the Television. You grabbed your plate of food and walked out the front door to make your way to the swinging chair sitting on your porch as you heard the screen door slam. 

The air that found you was a refreshing contrast to the staleness that lingered within your home. Very much a needed relief, you acknowledged how the L.A heat hugged you. You had just the right amount of shade and you settled in your seat to resume eating with thoughts of Franklin and Eddie’s new movie behind you. 

…

Your body jerked you back awake when the ice cream truck drove past with screaming neighborhood kids running behind it, money raised and ready for the taking. The heat still enveloped you like a larva in a cocoon although the sky didn’t give an accurate indication of the current time, blue and clear enough to possibly offer up a couple more hours of light before the sun would begin to set. You had no idea how long you sat there. 

You lowered a hand to reach down for your glass of water. When your hand didn't touch it, you raised your head to look over the side of the chair. Only the plate and spoon. You sighed, far too lazy to go into the house after it, forgetting at what point you had put it down. Instead, you shut your eyes and cosied back into the light rock of the swinging chair with your mouth that had gone dry. 

Not two minutes into your rocking did a loud base rumble the block, with George Clinton’s Nubian Nut. The noise had one of your eyes open and searching for the source. 

A car similar to Kevin’s made its way down the street. You raised your head as it continued, stopping just shy of your gate. Franklin stepped out from the back car door, passed through the gate, and trailed the sidewalk all the way up the steps of the porch, minus one. He placed his hands in his pockets, and for a moment the two of you just stared at each other. Part of you thought it might be another dream until the buzzing fly had you swatting it away. 

All you could register was the shirt he wore as the music lowered in volume. The very shirt you'd brought him for his birthday the year prior, after you'd mentioned how the color had the potential to do wonders for his skin tone. Why had he chosen this shirt to show up in? Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe like most times you were reading too much into it. 

As the question echoed the inner workings of your mind you held back a smile that tickled your lips. If memory served you correctly, although he disagreed with such admiration, he wore it many times after that day. Dare you conclude it had become a favorite in his wardrobe? Or at the very least, inspiration for more pops of color. You could still remember the grin on his face as he opened it among the many other gifts he'd gotten between cake, balloons and singing. 

Your eyes traveled over him.

There was something that didn’t belong to the vibrant color of this type of orange that reminded you of some far off place with fresh fruit, and tropical birds that flew above black people who spoke a different language. It was the wound. The wound was still fresh. It's tint. Out of place. The red mingled within the broken flesh, evident. “Happen to ya face Franklin?” You asked, still looking at the cuts on his deep brown skin, and with enough audacity to skip any formalities. 

Franklin merely shook his head and snickered. “Nothin’. Accident at work.”

You always wondered how he could be such a terrible liar. Or maybe it was simply that you knew better. 

“Right. Work,” you huffed. “That why I didn't hear from you? Or, did it have something to do with selling cocaine? Got caught up?” You rolled your eyes and looked away with a defeatist sigh. You would offer up your disapproval every chance you got. 

Franklin sighed as well, his features almost annoyed by the statement. “Look, I didn't come here to fight. Came to pick you up. So you gonna come or not? We got this whole night planned. We hit Eddie first, then Cujo.”

Maybe a different version of you would have considered it, or Imagined in your mind how the night would play out with all the laughs and good company. Somehow you couldn't see it, and all you could picture was climbing back into bed, and more sleep. A quick glance at the car to reel in Leon's afro into view, along with the smoke from Kevin's cigarette, Melody's lime green purse, and you shook your head slouching down in your swinging seat. “Nope. You go ahead. Have fun.”

Franklin chuckled, and leaned to lightly smack your leg. “Come on. Stop playin’. You love Eddie Murphy. Besides, you been waitin’ for this premier for weeks.” 

Oh, so he had remembered. You thought that your breakup would mean the end of all future plans. After his reaction of wanting to keep the planning hush in the hospital, you figured you wouldn't be invited. 

“Go grab a hoodie,” Franklin said. “We gotta get there. Starts soon.” 

You smiled. Your bed felt so close you were practically already in it.  “Then you probably shouldn't be late then, huh?” As you folded your arms, your smile faded. Sinking down until your legs could reach the ledge, you propped them up, one after the other and closed your eyes allowing yourself to feel the sounds of the neighborhood. 

 “Alright fuck it.” Franklin shrugged, climbing the last step. “I'll just sit here then. Be miserable too.” 

You opened your eyes and stared at him, shocked at what he said. You weren't miserable! 

“Excuse me?” 

You watched him put on a frown, but it was filled with a taunting sarcasm. 

How's the saying go again? Misery loves company?” He turned to you, poking out his bottom lip for extra effect as he found his seat. “How I look?” He smacked your leg for the second time and proceeded to move forward with his horrible acting.

A glare on you burning and present, you watched him mimic a fake pout. “Oh, fuck you Franklin.” You threw your hand in the direction of the car. “Will you leave me alone and just go!”

The rise in your voice got the attention of Leon, Kevin and Melody. 

“Well. Hope the line ain't that long for popcorn. At this rate, we probably gon’ miss the first part of the movie.” Leon said loud enough for you to hear it. 

Beeeeep Beeeeep 

“Aye, get y'all shit together and let's go!” Kevin yelled from Melody’s window. 

Your legs hit the ground at the second beep of the car horn. You threw a quick glance at your neighbor's house. 

“Hey Kevin, chill out! You know Mr. Baker doesn't like all that loud noise this time of day!”

“Hurry yo’ asses up then. All that shouldn't take this long. If y'all wanna conversate, do all that in the car!” He shouted back. 

You faced Franklin with eager angry eyes. “Okay. Seriously. Go. Mr. Baker gon’ tell ma mama when she get back if he gets woken up from his nap. Last thing I need.” 

You waited but nothing. Stiff as a board. Franklin made no effort to get up and move from the place he'd made for himself on the extra chair not too far from where you sat. Instead he settled in place, only getting more comfortable. “Naw,” he offered with ease. “I'm serious. I wanna make sure anyone walking by can see the pain from where we are.” He sat up just enough from his slouch to direct his attention to the sidewalk. “Hey everyone, how's the sad face workin’ out for me. Do I look good? Thinkin’ bout’ keepin’ it. Forget that my friends came to cheer me up!” 

The two women who Franklin had caught the attention of looked for a moment, and then continued on their way, only picking up their pace in the process as they walked.

Leon stood in the open door of the car and tilted his head as his eyes went from the women to the porch.“What you say Saint?”

Franklin offered a wave, then turned to smile at you. “Nothin’ we all just chillin!” 

You smacked your teeth. “Really? You're so damn childish. Forreal. Just go.” You rose up, frustrated as you smacked his arm, harder than you had his leg. “Quit playing wit’ me.” 

The hit didn't phase Franklin's determination. In response, he locked his hands together and sat them casually on his lap. “Nope. I'm good.” He'd flipped his hands around and placed them at the back of his head, extending his legs to prop them up on the ledge. Just as you had done. Once he closed his eyes, a smirk had found his lips, and you knew he'd won. 

“Whenever you wanna grab that hoodie.” 

“Such a fuckin’ annoying ass-” you jumped up from your chair barely able to complete your sentence and leaned to snatch up Cissy's plate from the floor, before you shuffled inside the house, stomping the entire way to the kitchen.

“Yeah, well. Learn from the best so hurry up!” Franklin called after you which only earned him another roll of your eyes. 

You would have thrown the plate at the wall, but since it was Cissy's and you'd only gain yourself attention from the crash, you decided against it. 

You moved swiftly through the house huffing and puffing your way into Ronnie's room with the knowledge that all your other hoodies were in the hamper, dirty. Not much energy for washing clothes, you decided on a black and gray hoodie from the closet, one that had an imprint of Malcom X’s face and X symbol, not at all realizing that it had been Franklin who broke your pattern of avoidance that had you enter your dead brother's bedroom. 

By the time you were nearing the door, Franklin had removed his hands, and let his legs fall back to the ground as he leaned forward. The smirk was no longer on him, replaced instead with a frown as he reached up to touch the cut just over his brow. He hissed at the perpetual sting the contact of his fingers brought and raised his chin up toward the sky, allowing the sun to kiss at his skin. You grabbed your inhaler and watched him. A familiar sadness found its way back as you stepped out the door to shut and lock it, remembering the phone call you were on earlier that day. Only when Franklin heard you did he stand and bring the smile back. 

“Ready?”  

…

The open windows allowed a warm breeze that pulled from a beautiful glow akin to sunset and entered through the space of Kevin's ride like the words of a story.  

From where you sat you watched Kevin nod his head to the beat of a song and turn up the volume when the next  flooded through the surrounding speakers while he drummed his hands on the steering wheel. Besides the music, conversation among the friend group was minimal to none. More importantly you hated the seating arrangement. Leon wanted a window, and so did Franklin, landing you in the middle in line of the front mirror as Kevin drove. You noticed how he would look in it, at you, then back to the road which strangely made it read like the hot seat. Any other time you would have fought tooth and nail for one of the windows, anything to avoid the driver's gaze. This time you accepted an easy defeat. 

Seeing your eyes, you sighed. They were still puffing from your cry at the hospital, from the night before. You hated crying. The after effect could linger on for days. Only, they were nowhere close to your mothers eyes. Had that been the case, Franklin and no one else would have persuaded you to come out. You were grateful that no one mentioned it. You knew they noticed, but chose not to say anything on account of the situation being necessary for such an after effect. They might all think something was wrong with you, had you not cried at all.  

The tired silence seemed a long while before Kevin spoke. He'd begun to snap his fingers and immerse himself in the tempo of the current song. 

“Alright now. Imma need some groovin’ and movin’.” 

You felt the vibration of the speaker's. Kevin had turned the knob on the radio more and more, elevating the volume substantially. Leon tilted his head, Melody threw a glance in Kevin’s direction, and Franklin grinned before garnering his attention back out the window to the passing L.A scenery. No one made any effort to sing along. 

“Aye. Y'all don't get to be boring in my ride,” you heard Kevin blurt out as the song switched from L.T.D’s Back In Love to Shalamar’s A Night to Remember. “Either you sing or I put ya ass out.”

The looks thrown around were unanimous. Everyone suddenly paid attention. All eyes on Kevin. He grinned, throwing a glance in the mirror only a second before his eyes were right back on the road. Leon sucked his teeth and raised his chin to challenge the threat. 

“Man, get that shit outta here.”

Kevin glared through the mirror and pulled the steering wheel. Car horns sounded off. The swerve had you shoulder bumping Leon and holding on for dear life while Kevin settled into the farthest lane just barely missing a collision. 

“You see that sidewalk? Think I'm playing. I'll drive right over to that bitch.”

You noticed Franklin in your peripheral. He'd sat up, alert. Chest going up and down. His eyes ran over you before he sat his hand on your leg. “You okay?” 

You gave him a quick nod. He directed his attention to the front where Melody sat. “Mel, you good?” 

She didn't answer, instead she turned and smacked Kevin's arm.  “The hell, you almost gave me and everyone else in here a heart attack!” 

“Kev man, are you serious?” Franklin added, eyes wide on the road, then behind to the people in the car who expressed their anger with curse words none of you could hear and middle fingers being thrown as compensation for the silent words.

Leon hit the back of Kevin's seat, fist balled and chest puffed. “What the fuck, drive like you got some sense nigga!” 

You straightened out your hoodie. You could still feel your heart pounding when Kevin chuckled and lit up a freshly rolled joint he'd taken from the ashtray. 

“Well, get ta’ singing damnit, like you heard what I said.” He exhaled, releasing the smoke from his lungs that went rushing out the side window due in part to the speed the car traveled. “I know you know how Lee. You carry that damn boom box around enough. Can't just be fa’show.”

Leon sat back pointing. “Fuck you.”

Kevin lifted his middle finger and threw it back in Leon’s direction. “Aye, fuck you to. Mel.” He brought on a smile as he looked at her. “Come on girl, let's hear it.”

Melody shook her head and laughed. “Oh my God Kev. You stupid. And you almost killed us, so yeah, no.” 

His smile fell. “You wanna get out? I'll pull this bitch right over and call Andre to come pick ya up. Just say the word.”

Melody shook her head and narrowed her gaze on him, but a small grin made its way to her lips as the song played. It was one of the powerful trio's best. A party hit that made it hard to resist after a while. Melody, succumbing to the pop of the tune started moving her head to the beat and began to sing along to the lyrics earning a face of displeasure from Leon who seemed to sit back disappointed that she’d given in, but a hoot from Kevin who'd passed her the joint as his voice came in on a few lyrics. 

Get ready, gonna make this a night to remember…

Kevin threw a glance over his shoulder directed on Franklin. “Come on Saint. Let’s go.”

Leon had leaned into you, bumping your shoulder. This time it had little to do with Kevin’s horrible driving. This time he had a smile on his face and just like Melody he’d fallen into Kevin’s request to sing. With a  scrunch your nose at his singing, you felt another shoulder bump coming from Franklin’s side, with even worse singing that filled the car. 

“Your turn Afro puff,” Kevin said, snapping his fingers. “You the last one to catch the groove. I love ya, but please believe I'll have ya ass out here walkin’.” 

You hadn’t realized your shoulders were beginning to put in work until you waved him off. “No no come on. It's okay Kevin. I got a headache.” 

“I don’t give a fuck. The singing will help wit’ the headache, come on.” 

You laughed. Franklin and Leon tried to out do the other’s singing amidst Kevin's persuasion, and with Kevin and Melody’s voices jumping on the lyrics, you finally broke and joined in on the madness. You smiled, then began to shimmy your shoulders to the beat. Repeating the lyrics as the joint passed to Leon. 

This night you won’t forget. Gonna make this a night to remember….

“Aight, see there ya’ go. Y'all can’t sing worth a damn but that's how we spose ta’ have fun.” Kevin shouted over the car full of voices. 

By the time the song ended you'd arrived. A line had already begun to form outside with crowds of people eager to see the new releases. Kevin parked, and one by one You, Franklin, and Leon took exit from the backseat.

“Whelp let’s do this y'all.” Leon said, smoothing down his brown shirt. 

“Wait wait hold on,” Kevin interjected as he leaned to dig around in his glove compartment. “Let's do a picture real quick since we got all us here.” 

He searched around until he caught hold of an unsuspected victim to be the designated picture taker. Some girl who had been walking with her friend. One who’d given Kevin her number right before she walked away. Leon had taken the friend's. 

When the image made itself visible you offered the smiling faces a grin of acknowledgement with the hopes of a good night. 

…

“Mind if I sit with you while we wait for them?”

Your mind had latched to two different spaces. One in the present and the other of countless possibilities. All things new. You only heard Melody because she was standing so close. All the other conversations, you had gone deaf to. 

“Uh huh.” 

You look down at the space beside you. You had taken off your hoodie and sat it down. A tactic done on purpose so that no one would think it was okay to sit by you randomly. The theater was packed with people. A normal turn out for a friday night, but with a new Eddie Murphy movie, it seemed to be double the amount. You grabbed the article of clothing and placed it on your lap, motioning your hand toward the empty space you’d made. 

“Please. Help yourself.” 

Your eyes tracked the places where Franklin, Kevin and Leon had gone. They were closer to getting the tickets as the line continued to move. You looked at all of them, but your eyes settled over Franklin a little longer. 

“I uh, just wanted to tell you personally, how sorry I am about Ronnie.” 

You blinked, breaking your gaze on Franklin. You’d begun to run a thumb over your knuckles. Everytime someone brought Ronnie up it sent this relentless wave of tension through your body. Your shoulders slumped automatically whenever anyone said his name. You didn’t look at her, even though you could feel her stare.    

“I didn't get the chance to tell you that,” Melody continued. “You were sleeping when we got there. All I could really do was leave the flowers.”

“Thank you. They were nice.” 

When you got out of the hospital you’d taken the bouquet with you. The old vase they’d come in had been changed, along with potting and arrangement. They looked good sitting as a centerpiece on the coffee table in your living room. 

“Yeah. No problem.” 

That would have been the end of it. You could feel her weight shift on the cushion as if she were about to get up. Abandon whatever mission she’d willed for herself that mustered up enough courage to speak, and say those words you hadn't expected. You pulled in the scent of popcorn through your nostrils and exhaled through your mouth, then closed your eyes briefly before you sighed to stop her departure. 

“Listen Melody. I had some time to think. Think about, a lot. And, I don't want things to be awkward between us. Okay.”

Melody settled back down and you looked over at the moving line of happy moviegoers.

“I know all that stuff happened with Franklin, and honestly even though I still feel you totally disregarded the relationship by crossing that boundary. How I reacted wasn't called for.” 

You paused. You had to take a breath. You were still angry and somewhat annoyed, but you had your part in the aftermath. Owning up was the only way to call a truce to the unspoken tug of war. 

“All the cursing and blaming. That wasn't me. Or it shouldn't have been, even in the moment.” You brought your hands together in a fold. “Although I was dealing with all that stuff going on with my brother, I had the choice to react in a better way, and I didn't.” You pulled your legs up and crossed them. 

“You're right.”

Your head at Melody’s words.

“I absolutely did cross a boundary. I went on like things hadn’t changed. The worst part was that I didn’t take your feelings into consideration. You being his girl. I didn’t respect it. So, I’m sorry.”

With a short nod you looked at her. 

“Thank you.”

Melody sat back, resting her head on the wall. “I just. I really want things to go back like they were between us.” she smiled. “I’m telling you girl, no one can do that hot comb like you. You see it’s looking a lil’ rough right now.”

You let go of a light laugh that hit the air among the rest of the conversation and bustle that was going on in the lobby. “As much as I speak against hot combs, That would be the thing I'm really good at.” You shook your head. The irony always had a funny way of creeping in. You threw a glance at Melody’s hair. A simple blow dry, but you could tell no hot comb touched it. “I told you you wouldn’t even have that problem if you’d just join the afro gang. We're always looking for new members.” You and Leon were steady tryna recruit folk. You’d make two very dedicated Jehovah witnesses.

“I don’t even think mine is capable of doing that,” Melody said with a soft laugh, throwing a glance at yours. 

Despite being in a high ponytail, your hair remained a nice healthy mini afro. Bound but still mighty, and powerful enough to shut shit down if you at any point decided to unleash her and go full Black Power.  

“I honestly feel you and Leon got everybody beat.” 

You took some sort of pride in that being the case. “Maybe,” you smiled to yourself. “Maybe so.” 

Melody turned and extended a hand before you. Her face held an expression much like a girl getting something she'd desperately wanted in the same way a child would in a candy story, or being invited to play tetherball on the playground with a group of girls that never noticed that innate desire for belonging. “Friends again?” She declared. 

You looked at her and then her hand before you took it and exchanged a shake by way of a calling of troths. “Friends.” You ended with a smile similar to hers, and a bit of weight lifted. The awkwardness to, had also subsided. Your entire body became much more free of the tension it held even with the ever present thought of your brother. 

“Wassup, y'all ready ta’ do this?” 

Both you and Melody looked up. Franklin, Leon, and Kevin had returned. Kevin with his hands full. To large boxes of popcorn, a thing of nachos, some bag of candy you couldn't identify, and a large box of lemon heads. 

“Damn, y'all buy up the whole concession stand?” Melody asked and stood to her feet. Franklin and Leon weren't as bad as Kevin, but they had their hands full just the same.

“Mel, you know we had to buy supplies for two movies. I don't wanna get up and miss somethin'.”

You shook your head, got to your feet and put your hoodie back on. “Could have just bought two big boxes of popcorn to split between us. We could have shared. Leon gotta box, you, Franklin. Y'all, for real?” 

Kevin sucked in his teeth.“Shhhhhit. That thang woulda been gone in five minutes. You know them nigga’s greedy.” 

Leon threw you a look before stuffing his mouth full of popcorn. “Share? Hell naw. I don’t know why y’all actin’ like Kev don’t be lickin’ his fingers n’shit.” 

Franklin chuckled. “Right. Wit’ them damn lemon heads.”

Both you and Melody directed your attention to Kevin’s arms. Sure enough two mini boxes of Lemon Head candies nuzzled between the popcorn and larger candy bag. You smiled and shook your head, folding your arms to look at Kevin. Everyone did. You, Franklin, Leon and Melody were staring at him. 

Kevin stepped back, throwing gazes back and forth. “Oh, so it’s like that? That’s why, don’t nobody ask me for none then. I was gonna be generous, but hell, nevermind since ya’ll hatin’ on a nigga.” 

…

The laughter and jokes felt like old times as the five of you entered into the theater. Lucky to have spotted seats closer to the screen but still in the middle, the order set Kevin on the end, then Melody, Leon, Franklin and you at the other end. 

The previews had already begun playing by the time you got comfortable and lifted up from your slouch to raise up and throw some popcorn in Kevin's direction when he whined about his three boxes of Leon Heads. He threw some back, more than the handful you had, and Franklin stole his mini box, passing it discreetly to both you and Leon before he’d gotten caught when he turned to offer some to Melody. 

By the time you were in a debate about the next big movie to come out, the theater space had darkened and Trading Places had begun. 

Immediately engrossed in the movie, you laughed and gasped at all the right moments earnestly digging your hands for more popcorn to pass between Franklin and Leon.

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of pure bliss and enjoyment before the headache you’d thought you’d gotten rid of had come back full force, and you felt sick. The same kind of sickness you’d experienced the night at Cho’s, and the same headache you carried with you when Cissy brought you back to your house. 

There was Eddie Murphy. His character, thrown in a holding cell. Your mind had somehow replaced the face, just like you were watching up on that screen, the details Jerome expressed to Cissy. Words they thought you hadn't heard, now very much vivid and beating. How could you be so selfish? He’d been gone all of three days and you were in a movie theater laughing. Enjoying yourself, living life. Your eyes swelled up with regret and you looked down at the hoodie you wore. Ronnie’s hoodie. 

Miraculously your hand had found Franklin’s. He’d been so taken by the movie that he only noticed once you squeezed down. His eyes found you through the low light shining from the big screen. “Huh?” You heard him say through the hordes of laughter that filled up the space. 

You tried with all your might to avoid the shake in your voice, and force one final smile. “I need to go to the bathroom. Be back.” 

You watched him nod, as you stood to your feet and put the popcorn box on the ground with no intention of returning to it. You wasted no time, moving through the seated people as fast as humanly possible.

The rise and fall of your chest led you inside a stall to let the breath free you’d had held up trying to make it to seclusion. You sobbed, a kind that had been suppressed as much as possible in order not to be discovered by those leaving and entering the restroom. You would have preferred your own bathroom, where you could hear your own labored breathing and wheezing. Maybe one of your pillows could provide you some sort of comfort rather real or imagined, or at least been there to muffle your screams down. 

That’s where you should have been. Home. The regret you harbored for laughing and enjoying yourself poured out in short, choking bursts and sniffs. If you kept it up you would need more than your inhaler to calm it, and you'd be damned if you'd return to the hospital, willingly. You covered your face with your hands but tears found their way around the barrier and ran down your chin to drip and pool along your neck. You leaned on the stall that separated the other and quietly let the tears go. 

When you found you hated the position and the way your neck began to feel at such an awkward angle you stood up and wiped your eyes with the sleeves of the hoody. 

You could barely breathe, all congested with sorrow, but you blew your nose and rushed out the bathroom. The less opportunity you had to look at the mess that was now your puffy exterior, the better you’d be. 

As you debated on going back in and telling Franklin you were leaving, a familiar face caught your view. He was there with a woman and two kids, a girl and boy. A happy family enjoying a night out together. A family going about their lives without a care or concern for a grieving mother and daughter, or the young man who had all the potential in the world, only to be cheated and forgotten due to a corrupt system. 

Anger, one emotion not unrecognizable to you had provided the motivation it took to walk and confront such atrocities head on. 

Why? Why wasn’t he feeling just as much grief and despair? “Hey,” you shouted. 

From that point your descent had begun. Your own voice echoed in your ears loud and passionate with words that would cling to the atmosphere long after you left. Curse words, hurt words, and everything in-between. You even gained the attention of those in the lobby. An audience to your own personal demise. 

He always regarded you with your last name first, like he meant to stay professional at all times. It annoyed you. It made him come off, pretentious and dismissed his attempt at keeping things calm. 

“So tell me Shelby motherfucking Fleming. Why you not at home wit’ ya head hung low. My brother is dead because you didn't know what the hell you were doing. Or maybe you just didn't give a fuck. That it? Just another black man to be disposed of. Because I told you that taking that deal was gonna fuck us!” 

All the attention seemed more of an embarrassment for him than for you. In fact you hardly even noticed anybody else other than the bastard before you. 

“I beg your pardon. I understand your frustration. It was a terrible thing that happened. But I did what I could for Ronald. He had the best legal representation for his circumstance. No matter what offer I put on the table, he was going to do time. Now, if you don't mind. My family is here.”

Your blood boiled. The way he'd said it. Like he brushed it off as nothing. 

“Fuck you. Fuck you and your woods stalk lookin’ ass family. You think I actually give a fuck about all that when you destroyed mine? Y'all all played a part. You, that stupid ass judge!” 

You hadn't even realized the size your rage had grown. Before you could stop yourself you’d smacked the medium size popcorn box from Shelby's hand. Little golden puffs went flying. When you pushed him his wife called for security, hysterical. Another random man had come to break up the tension. He pulled you back trying as he might to block your path from Shelby. In all the commotion you hadn't even noticed Franklin. He'd inserted himself to push the man away from you. You tried to rush at Shelby again but Franklin blocked your path. He struggled with you until he took hold of your shoulder to shake you still. 

“Hey hey calm down, wassup, what happened?” 

You took a step back and threw him a look before you pushed his hands away. 

“I'm going home.” You murmured through a glaze of tears. The security, not far off and moving through the crowd of onlookers had you in hindsight, but you wouldn't wait. You changed direction and ran out the closest door with Franklin's voice calling out your name and begging you to stop. 

You didn't stop. You just kept on running. 

……………………………………..

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