Finding Forever (14 page)

Sheek surveyed his surroundings, and then chirped the alarm. Even though he was in front of his homeboy’s house he could never be too sure. Koran suppressed a laugh. Sheek was always overly cautious. Koran couldn’t hate, though. Sheek’s cautiousness was one of the characteristics he liked most about him. Slightly perturbed by what was so important, Sheek made his way up the steps.

“What up?” Koran raised his hand for five and a handshake.

“You, nigga.” Sheek gave him a pound. “What the fuck was so important that you had to drag me out my house? My chick was just about to give me some ass.”

“Watch yo’ fuckin’ mouth. I don’t wanna hear that shit.”

“Well, what the fuck is it then?”

“You know you my man, right?”

“Yeah.” Sheek looked at him funny. “You ain’t about to come out the closet or no shit like that, is you?”

“Sheek, don’t make me slap the shit outta you.”

“I’m just sayin’, you actin’ all serious and shit.”

“Whateva. Look some shit about to change.”

“Shit like what?”

“I’ma about to bow on out and hand everything to you. I already talked to Tony, my connect, and let him know that you gon’ be handling things from now on.”

“Where all this coming from? We doing good out here in the streets. You at the height of your run. Why the fuck you wanna give this shit up now?”

“’Cause man . . . I got a lotta shit I need to take care of.” Koran turned his head and shuffled his feet.

“What’s the deal? Holla at me. What the fuck could be more important than gettin’ this money? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m honored that you wanna turn shit over to ya’ boy, but I’m just a little confused right now. We supposed to be in this shit together. Since we was lil’ shorties on the block, we dreamed of gettin’ where we are right now. So what the fuck has changed? I know you got yo’ seed coming and all, but what that got to do with anything?”

“I feel you, but sellin’ dope ain’t all I wanna do with my life. And on top of that me and Whitney going through some deep shit right now.”

“Talk to me.”

“She sick,” Koran responded with a solemn look on his face.

“Quit overexaggerating shit, Koran. Of course she gon’ be sick, she’s pregnant.”

“Nah, man, she sick, sick. She got leukemia.”

“You bullshittin’?” Sheek threw his head back in disbelief.

“Nah.”

“Damn, that’s fucked up.” Sheek spoke slowly rubbing his chin. “You a’ight?”

“I’m good. She the one in pain and what fuck me up is that I can’t do shit about it.”

“Where she at now?”

“Upstairs sleep. She just started chemo about a month ago. We hoping she gon’ be a’ight, but shit been hard man. I thought watching my mama gettin’ high was something, but this shit right here ain’t no joke. Almost every other day she sick, throwing up or having diarrhea.”

“Damn,” Sheek whispered in a daze.

“That’s why I’m callin’ it quits. And besides that, I’d rather get out now before I fall off or end up locked up. You can’t stay on top forever, my nigga, remember that. I’m tryin’ to get my shit in order. I gotta get this GED situation wrapped up and then after that I’ma enroll in school. Plus, since she’s so sick I gotta get all the baby stuff and fix the room up.”

“You know if you need my help I got you.”

“Oh, I ain’t even worried about that. I know you do,” Koran confirmed with another handshake.

Inside the house, Whitney lay on her back in bed. Her once peaceful sleep had quickly turned into a dramatic struggle to wake up. She felt as if she was sinking into a bottomless pit and if she didn’t wake up soon she never would. Fear overtook her body as her head tossed and turned. Whitney’s mouth longed to scream for help, but the words wouldn’t escape her lips. Her body was so tense that breathing became a chore.

There had to be a way out. If she fought harder she’d be released from the torturous cell her mind had put her in. There was no way she was gonna let her illness or bad dreams win. Forcing herself to wake up, Whitney jumped out of sleep in a hot sweat. Her eyes did a quick assessment of the room to ensure that she was still alive and not in heaven. London started licking her arm, confirming her whereabouts.

After ruffling his fur, she called out for Koran, who, before she fell asleep, had been by her side. He was no longer there. Whitney held her stomach and carefully got out of bed. The cold hardwood floor felt like icicles prickling her feet as she made her way to the master bathroom. Using her index finger, she flicked on the light.

The reflection gazing back at her in the mirror alarmed Whitney. She looked like a sick person. There was no color in her skin, dark circles surrounded her eyes, and her lips were chapped and dry. She was no longer the stunning beauty she once was. Whitney often wondered if Koran even found her attractive anymore. If she was him she wouldn’t.

He had to be overwhelmed and tired of cleaning up behind her and feeding her. There was only so much a person his age could take. Whitney expected him to walk out and leave her any day now. Disgruntled by her appearance, she hurriedly washed her face.

“Baby,” Koran called out as he entered the bedroom. “Where you at?”

“In the bathroom,” she yelled back, drying her face with a cotton towel.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, why you ask me that?” she lied, flicking off the bathroom light.

“’Cause.” Koran looked at her and then at the bed.

Whitney’s eyes followed his to the bed, where a clump of black hair sat on her pillow.

“Well, I didn’t think that would be happening so soon.”

“You a’ight?” Koran asked, concerned.

“I’m fine.” Whitney twisted up her face as if she didn’t care. “As a matter of fact, let me show you how fine I am.” She turned around and went back into the bathroom.

Uncertain of what she was about to do, Koran followed her. Whitney opened the cabinet underneath the sink and pulled out a pair of clippers Koran stored there.

“What you about to do with that?”

“What does it look like I’m about to do? I’m about to take care of this shit right now.” She plugged the cord into the socket.

Once the clippers were plugged up, Whitney turned them on and proceeded to shave the right side of her head. Fuck, if she was going to be a victim she was gonna face her illness head on. She’d been here before so there was nothing to fear. It was just hair. If she lived long enough it would grow back someday. Koran was once again astounded by her courage. So much so that before Whitney could shave the other side of her head, he took the clippers from her hand.

“C’mon, Koran, stop. Give them back. I know what I’m doing.” She reached for them.

“I know that, but I want to do it, too.”

Whitney’s heart melted. “Koran, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. I want to.” He looked deep into her eyes to assure her.

No doubt entered his mind as he too shaved the right side of his head, eliminating his locs. It didn’t matter that it had taken four years for his hair to grow to the length it was. Cutting his locs was the least he could do to show Whitney how much he loved her and stood by her side. He was in this for the long haul.

Whitney’s not having any hair wasn’t going to drive him away. If anything, the two of them shaving their heads together brought them closer together. Almost an hour later, Koran and Whitney stood peering into the mirror admiring their new reflections. Whitney was still a knock out. Her dimples seemed to glow even brighter now that she didn’t have any hair to hide behind.

“I kinda like you wit no hair, ma.” He kissed the back of her head.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” She smiled. “How long you plan on keeping this look?”

“As long as you keep yours.”

“So me, you and the baby gon’ be walking around here lookin’ like triplets?” Whitney joked.

“Looks like it.”

Koran paused briefly before looking in the mirror and speaking again. He and Whitney were a perfect match. No other woman would look better by his side. Koran massaged her belly, then closed his eyes and kissed her neck.

“Marry me?” he asked with his head resting on her shoulder.

“What?” Whitney stared into the mirror at him, taken aback.

“You heard me. Let’s get married.”

“When?”

“Before the baby is born.”

“Are you sure?” She turned around to face him.

“Yeah.” He held her in a warm embrace. “So what you say?”

“Yes.”

It’d been a while since Koran pulled into the driveway in front of the house he used to call home. The last time he’d set foot on the property was when he and Trina got into it and he’d pulled out his gun. After that night Koran made a vow to himself never to let Trina take him to that level of being pissed off again. It wasn’t good for anybody, especially Malik. He didn’t have the energy to fight, anyway. For the past month and a half his life had been emotionally draining enough.

Watching the person he loved most in life deteriorate right before his very own brown eyes ate away at him day in and day out. With each passing day, the fact that Whitney might die became more evident. Death loomed over her like a black plague. It was almost as if he could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t her usual perky self. Her energy level was at an all-time low. She couldn’t even take a step without him being there to hold her hand. Koran couldn’t fathom the mental anguish Whitney had to be going through day after day.

Knowing that at any moment the breath you took could be your last was a muthafucka. Koran hated to leave her side. It scared him for her to be out of his sight. Every time he had to leave thoughts filled his mind that today might be the day they had to go their separate ways. But then he’d think back on all the things they had yet to do.

Whitney still had to approve the shade of pink she wanted the baby’s nursery to be painted and neither of them had decided on a name. Whitney liked Kimora and Koran liked Harlow. The crib had to be assembled and on top of that, Koran still had to study for his online GED course. Things would be better in due time, he continued to tell himself.

Koran reluctantly opened the driver’s side door and got out. Raindrops fell at a slow pace from the sky, landing on his brown leather bomber jacket. He tilted his brown Yankees cap to the left and made his way to the door. He loathed the fact that he had to deal with Trina in order to see Malik. She was gonna do everything in her power to start a fight. Koran wasn’t in the mood for it, so his visit with Malik would most definitely end up being a short one.

Everything in him wanted to bust Trina in her mouth for lying to Whitney, but hitting her wouldn’t even be worth it. Trina was still gonna be sad and miserable at the end of the day. Instead of using his key, Koran rang the doorbell and three rings later, Trina finally came to the door. Koran knew she was on some ignorant shit, but he decided to let it go for Malik’s sake.

“What you want?” she shot at him with an attitude.

“Malik upstairs?” Koran looked the other way and ignored her.

“No.”

“What you mean, no?”

“Like I said, he ain’t here, and frankly I don’t even understand why yo’ ass is here. I told you to step a while ago. What, you ain’t got the hint?”

“You know what, Trina?” A light bulb went off in his head. “You right. What the fuck am I stressing for? Malik ain’t even my son, so I’ma do like you said and step. Tell Malik to holla at me when he turns eighteen.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m done.” Koran turned his back to her and walked to his car.

He’d missed his son terribly, but dealing with Trina and her nasty attitude was too much for him. All the back and forth, arguing and fighting, wasn’t necessary. He could show her better than he could tell her.

Trina held the door open with a surprised expression on her face. This time she’d gone too far. She had never meant for Koran to get so upset that he’d throw in the towel. Once again she’d let her own selfish needs get in the way of the happiness of her son. How would she explain to Malik that she’d driven the only father figure he’d known away? She couldn’t and there was no way on God’s green earth she would.

Finding Forever

The day Whitney had dreamed of for the past eight years was finally here. September 6, 2008 was the day she would become Koran McKnight’s wife. Things couldn’t be better. For the first time in weeks she didn’t feel sick. Her skin wasn’t as golden as it once was, but that was nothing a little makeup and body bronzer couldn’t fix. Her parents, Joan and Oscar, were in town and in their own separate room getting dressed. Koran was at the wedding site. The last time they’d spoken; the wedding planner, decorators, caterers and reverend had arrived.