The air inside the apartment was stifling. All day it had been raining and as was typical of Midwestern Spring weather, the sun had come out last minute to boil the remaining water in the air into a soup that made it feel as if Darius was being forced to breathe through a wet towel. Even with all of the windows open, he felt no relief. Brianne had been in the bathroom for two hours, and he wondered how she hadn’t melted yet.

He stood on one side of the door. With his forehead resting against the cool wood, he could feel that she stood on the other. “Brianne.” No answer. He rested his fist against it next, doing all that he could to keep his voice level. “Brianne. Come on now, come out. Let’s talk about this like adults. I can’t talk to you through a door, I need to see your face. I said I was sorry.”

His other hand rested on the handle. The lock was one of those that could be undone with a bit of wrist work and a butterknife. Even if it wasn’t, he was sure that with enough force, he could put a shoulder through the flimsy wood if he needed to. That wasn’t the point.

“Brianne. You and I both know I can get in if I want to. Please baby girl, just come out.” His tongue burned like acid in his mouth.

When the door finally opened, he pursed his lips and took stock of what he’d done. A knot was forming above her right eye, a reddish purple tulip blooming just beneath the skin. In truth, he hadn’t meant to hit her; it had been reflexive, a backswing that he’d learned from his father. He wiped away the tears collecting on her lips before kissing her. She still tasted salty, and he resisted the urge to scold her for crying in the first place. As he tilted her face this and that way in his hands, he tried to trace exactly where he knew that expression from.

Darius remembered a time when his mother was beautiful.

She was - had been - the variety of woman that no matter how fast life got, pace was always kept. In the early days of his childhood, he could remember her bouncing him on her leg as he screamed his displeasure with whatever injustice had been inflicted upon him, a textbook resting on the then new couch beside her. She always had a book with her, though he couldn’t remember any of the covers or titles even if he strained himself. She laughed and smiled a lot, so much so that as he grew older and began to make friends, he worried that they might think her strange because more often than not, he couldn’t find what it was that she was laughing at.

He wished he’d treasured the sound when he had the opportunity.

His mother didn’t talk about his father much. If ever he asked her about him, she found some way to change the subject, offering him ice cream or acting as if he hadn’t spoken to begin with. When all two-hundred and forty-seven pounds of the man showed up on their doorstep when he was ten years old, Darius hadn’t known who he was.

He hadn’t said a thing as he placed a huge hand on the crown of Darius’s head, shoving him aside so roughly that he was nearly sent to the floor.

“Peaches?” He barked. He disappeared into the kitchen just as Darius got his bearings. His mother yelled from within. The noise she made almost didn’t sound human, strangled and high pitched, like a dog’s chew toy that was on it’s last legs. “Didn’t I tell you to come get me today? So why I have to catch a cab here? Give me some damn money; the meter running. Don’t move yo’ ass from that spot, we ain’t done talking.”

He barreled out of the kitchen into Darius. The boy fell backwards, landing hard on his behind. Looking into the man’s face was like looking into that of an angry bull. 

Darius scrambled to get his footing. A white sneaker came down on his hand, forcing it to lay flat on the ground. The foot grew heavier and heavier, and Darius swore he could feel the bones in his hand powdering. Heat exploded in his fingertips, electric pain shooting up his arm. 

Someone was screaming. 

His mother was there suddenly, shoving at the man’s arm. He stumbled a bit and Darius snatched his hand back, cradling his pulsing hand to his chest. The man’s arm moved reflexively, almost like a whip as his hand cracked across his mother’s face so hard her head snapped to the side.

“You must be out yo’ damn mind, bitch. I been gone too long. As soon as I pay this fare Imma show yo’ ass something, just wait. And put this fuckin’ kid to bed, I ain’t tryna deal with none of that shit right now.”

Only when he was safely outside of the door did Darius spring up, running to his mother. She wasn’t crying, and so he forced the ones in his eyes back as well.

“Mama, who is that?” Was all that he could ask. He didn’t know how to ask anything else. The questions, they were all too big to fit in his mouth.

She wouldn’t look at him.“That’s yo’ daddy, boy. He was… he just got out of jail. Come on now, let’s get you ready for bed.”

That was it; he was surprised he’d forgotten. Though he hadn’t been sure exactly what he was seeing, he knew it was important. It was almost like watching hastily applied wallpaper peel in real time, revealing something old and ugly beneath.

This was different. As he cradled Brianne’s face in his hands, he knew that it was. His mother hadn’t done a thing to deserve his father’s treatment; Brianne had. His grip strengthened and she winced, the bloodshot whites of her eyes becoming more pronounced. Just as easy, he lessened the pressure but never completely let go.

“You know I just hate not knowing where you are. I always let you know where I am, don’t I? I didn’t mean it, I promise.“You need to try to text me back faster, baby. I just get worried. I hate being angry at you.”

She drew in a shuddering breath, tucking her head beneath his chin. “I was at work. What do you want me to do, be on my phone in front of my manager?”

He searched her face. His stomach tightened. “Yes. I’m more important, aren’t I? And besides, even if you get fired, I can take care of you. Stop all that crying. You know I hate to see my baby cry. I didn’t even hit you that hard, don’t overreact. You trying to make me seem like the bad guy. I told you I been cheated on before - I just need to make sure you won’t do the same.”

Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, was it? Why did she look like that? There was another woman who’d worn that expression and pointed it at him. Patience probably thought he hadn’t noticed. Whenever she thought he wasn’t looking, he often caught her staring at him. It was later into their relationship and she’d be chewing her already raw lip, wringing her hands in her lap. If ever he made the move to meet her gaze, she’d quickly look away and deny it if he asked. It only occurred more and more as he grew into a younger version of his father.

It was something that used to make his chest tight when he woke up in the morning and looked in the mirror, poking at his lips, attempting to squish his nose into a different shape. The sick feeling returned to him then and he quickly, almost frantically, pressed a kiss to Brianne’s forehead.

“I’m sorry,” He repeated over and over. He was almost sure that he meant it.

The first time it happened, or at least the first time he knew of, he acted as if it was the end of all things good and holy. Patience knew he had his suspicions. But it was an easy thing to drape her arms around his neck, kiss his cheek and tell him that whatever Darius thought he knew, he didn’t. He’d sop up the affection, but that wouldn’t be the end of it. They would argue. They would snap at each other like dogs, pulling punches and cheap shots until the two of them were blue in the face and out of breath, but it would always end with him in her bed or her in his; it was as routine as breathing.

The one that got her caught was an upperclassman from her school. His name was Keenan. That was the extent of her knowledge of him when they were caught together in the science wing early one morning, Patience bent over one of the lab tables and Keenan standing close by, his zipper down. The two of them were suspended for a week and in the end, she knew that it was inevitable that Darius would find out. It took him two days to come for her, longer than she expected.

“Why?” He repeated over and over. He’d come to her house and her mother had let him in. He hadn’t said a word until the door was shut behind him. The brown of his irises were covered in a layer of permafrost as he stared at her, standing so straight that it looked uncomfortable.

“Why what?” She flipped through the pages of Native Son. She couldn’t decide what they smelled like, but it was verging from neutral into the unpleasant. It had come from the public library, and she couldn’t think about how many hands had touched the dog eared pages before her.

He made a sound of frustration, something between a growl and a yell. “Don’t act stupid. Why did I have to hear from other kids that you got caught fucking around with someone else and that’s why you haven’t been at school?”

She looked up at him, drawing inwards. She wasn’t sure what she saw in his face. It was almost like desperation, but it was too angry for that. Maybe he wanted her to deny it, but she wasn’t that good of a liar. Owl had learned that her infidelity was a subject that was best left alone. He’d once asked her that same question: Why? She’d been afraid that he was going to cry as his face split open with emotion, colored different shades of sadness. It would have crushed the image she had of him, and even if she did have the answer, she wouldn’t have given it to him.

She shook his name out of her mind just in time for Darius to slap the book out of her hand. She hadn’t even seen him approach. It landed spine up on the floor, and after he left, Patience would shakily try to press the folds out of the pages as her heart hammered in her chest.

He gripped her wrist tightly. His hands were just big enough that they could wrap around the circumference, his fingers bony and cold. He all but yanked her off of her bed and she barely stopped herself from crashing into him.

“Answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. What happened happened.” She hated her voice for the way it shook, the words almost indecipherable as she stammered them out. Her gaze floated down to her wrist, pressed between them.

His gaze followed her before his face relaxed. He dropped it, stepping back. “Sorry. I forgive you if you forgive me.” It was gone as quickly as it arrived, and it felt as if oxygen was returning to the room.

She remained stiff, nodding robotically. She didn’t fall back onto the bed but instead picked up the book, the protective layer of plastic crinkling as she did so. She kept her eyes on him the entire time. He looked around her room. Took in the posters of Sister Rosetta Tharp and Rihanna that were peeling off the walls and the pile of textbooks that were strewn about the floor. He nodded. “I’m sorry.” He repeated, lowering himself to the floor.

Patience hated him for making her want to leave her own room.

They didn’t talk about it anymore. They didn’t talk about anything. He allowed her to return to her reading, but she couldn’t sink into it as she typically did. She was too aware of him, her shoulders sagging from the weight of his eyes on her while she read. It was James that eventually came to kick him out when the sky turned orange, bursting through her door like he expected it to be locked. When she didn’t follow him out, Shanice badgered Patience until she reluctantly walked Darius out onto the porch.

The front door banged shut behind them and then they were alone again, this time without the protective warmth that her home afforded her, however false it was. She didn’t stop him as his hands rose to her face, his thumbs digging into the underneath of her jaw painfully. He kissed her, forcefully transferring his displeasure into her.

“I meant it, I’m sorry.” He said when he pulled back, keeping his hands on her face. “I just really like you and you don’t know how it felt to hear from Bradley earlier that you cheated on me. I thought everything was good between us.”

She stared at the spot between his eyebrows. She didn’t know who Bradley was. Darius hung around a myriad of white folks at school, and although they’d been dating for some time by that point, she hadn’t cared to get to know any of them outside of the polite small talk they shared when their worlds eclipsed one another’s. No, she may not have known him, but she knew she didn’t like him.

His thumbs were pressing in again. “Are we?”

She winced, pulling her head back. He held tight as if he weren’t afraid to pull it straight off her neck. “Are we what?”

He made a sound of annoyance. “Pay attention when I’m talking. I asked you if everything is good between us. Are we okay?”

What could she say except yes? It didn’t matter that her voice faltered whilst she said it. All he did was nod and then he was gone, the truck he’d driven over thundering down the street. She didn’t know how she hadn’t heard it coming.

It was a long time before she finally went in, cradling her wrist to her chest.

There were others of course. Ones whose names she knew and ones she didn’t care to learn. Men that sidled up to her at gas stations who only had to tell her that she was pretty. Faceless guys who approached her when her mother’s back was turned at the grocery store while she hung off of the cart and ones who could have been her father’s friends. Something was eating away at her. It took large, greedy bites with each encounter and Patience bled out of every new wound. She knew what guilt was; she felt it every time she thought of Owl. This wasn’t that, although she wasn’t sure that she could firmly say that it wasn’t exasperating the injuries.

It was abstract. Something tangible that needed to be understood. It was like a specter, floating at the edges of her consciousness just enough so that she could see it but not enough to bring it into focus. She desperately chased it’s origins; her fingers brushed against it when she slept with men who needed to take off their wedding rings to kiss her. She felt as if she could almost grasp it when their breath fanned her overheating skin, but when it was over and all that was left behind was the disappointment, she did her best to scrub away their remains until her skin was raw and red.

Next Chapter: 16