Matthew

Matthew

Ch.1

Frost

Streams of warmth folded like rollerblades down the back of his head, by the time the pea-sized oceans met with the curve of his neck they were sickles of frost. In every passing moment, he thought of Sarah. Numb was not a matter of the stiffness he felt in his body, but rather the sadness of his existence slowly dwindling. As blood escaped through the center of his forehead his hands lay there wishing they could hold in the aperture just a little while longer. The rivers moved, they flowed excessively. Her tiny hands, her two teeth that happened to pop in at the same time, and her blanket, the one with the bunnies. You know the one she was wrapped in on her arrival, her debut, the one that made its home on his shoulder for the first 6 months of her life, excepting all of her milky messes.

“Yo ass ain't sayin nothing now mathafucka!” The deep anger-filled voice says as he towers over him. Sick with regret and overwhelmed by grief Uziah’s lips open only to say nothing, allowing just the hollow space of his empty sound way to be revealed.

“Yeah, that's right. Hawkptuh.”

“Haha, woooh, man that was a good one! Dammn!” Bobby says as he reaches in to tap his beer bottle against Arlington, the frost falls from the base of his bottle and smacks down on the dark olive-colored shades between their recliners.

Ch.2

Flow

“What you got today, chips, sour patches, bubble gum, snickers,” Deek asks as he scans each item one by one. “A Brotha gotta eat,” Matthew jokingly replies. “Apparently drink too,” Deek says as he eyeballs the green cap poking through the crease of his pit. “Oh yeah, shit, my bad I almost forgot.”

The nights are long in Demington heights, and the streets never seem to sleep, sirens scream from block to block, thug life teens walk with their pants sagged to the mid of their behinds day and night, while drug addicts beg for credit. Matthew exits the store and finds Lil Tyron exchanging rock for a locked iPhone, “Matthew what's poppin, where you goin?”

“What's up Tye, I'm headed to Ladies.”

The smell of freshly fried chicken, sour cream whipped mashed potatoes, bacon seasoned green beans, and honey glazed biscuits hit his nose. “Daddy, daddy!” His two children yell as they run up to meet him at the door, “hey loves, how's daddy babies doing?” He says while embracing them. “Wheres your mamma?”

Ch.3

Precious

It had to be white dice, colores weren't allowed, black and white only, that was Perry's rule. Forty-two matt spots shook in the palms of sweaty hands landing in the open bed of dollar bills, 5’s, 10’s, ’20s, even hundreds. “Seven, eleven, Mathafuckah,” Daniels high pitched, voice shouted from the middle of the driveway up beneath the garage door, catching the drum of Perry's ear. “Ahhh, yo ass nigga, I knew you was finna do that,” he said as he made his way from behind the door onto the drive. Henny was on the menu and his timing couldn't have been better, “Wassup Matthew,” he yelled. He quickly met Perry’s palm with a five-slap and reached for the red and white plastic he knew belonged to him. He chugged it like a champ, no gurgle, nor chaser, just a deep steady exhale. “Come say hey to Jammie, he been waiting for you.”

Matthew crept up the side of the door, he watched as he lay there unmoving. Jammies happiness was something bizarre to Matthew, his big pearly teeth, and his high-pitched electrifying tone. “You just gone smile nigga, how you been?” “I been good, wassup boy,” Jammie replied.

“Scoot yo ass over nigga, I ain't yo boy,” Matthew said as he tossed Jammie's leg over the other. The crack in his window made it easy for all the outside jabber to seep through but Matthew's attention was set on the stacks of neatly folded diapers, bed pads, and Calmo cream. Jammies shelf was stacked to the top, turquoise and white layered briefs filled one side of the open covered shelf, while bed sore creams, wipes, and body wash filled the other. Sitting on his bed was like floating on air, the buzzing sound of the mattress pad dawdled in his ear. He sat there silent, examining every detail of all the itinerary, “Crazy huh?”

“What you mean,” he said as his sorrowful eyes connected back with Jammies. “One minute I'm walking up Lang st with the homies the next I’m rolling wheels on a scale every morning making sure my balls don't turn into a water balloon.” Matthew understood what it meant for Jammie to be alive but he didn't get how someone who had been practically robbed of his freedom could be in such good spirits.”It don't ever bother you?” Jammie bald his mouth and pierced through Matthew with a glare that sent chills down the back of his spine, “what this, me laying here, and you tossing my legs and I don't feel shit?”

“Haha, hell yeah it bothers me, but I'm much more thankful that I’m here.”

The night filled the sky and did what it always did on their perfect block, at first, it began releasing them one by one. The first one road by on a 10 speed, went down to the end of the block, circled the pine tree sitting on the corner, then popped up beside Daniel, “ahh, wassup Will what you doin, just popping up on me like that, move over nigga,” he said as he jumped back still crouched in the middle of the dice game. It was air sealed and tied on the nub, as soon as Daniel grabbed it out from the inside top of his shoe its pearly white inhabitants glowed and spread its love on the face of Will’s smile. The corners of his mouth dashed to the lobes of his ears, water glistening pink tissue popped through like a ball on a slingshot being thrust through the air. “Haha, damn man get back, Perry, look at this nigga! Haha.” Daniel said, nudging the edge of Perry's shoulder. Perry laughed his way from the circle and fell butt first on the pavement, “dammmmmm, Will, you want it that bad, shit that rock ain’t got nothin' on yo nubs hahaha” “Hellllll yeah, give me my shit,” he immediately replied. The lisp between the only two teeth that sat on the sides of his mouth only prolonged the laughter. “Why yaw playing with that man, give him his shit,” Matthew said as he backed up from the craps circle. landing the dice on a stack of ten hundreds, eight twenties, and about two fifties.

Perry waved his hand toward Daniel still trying to contain himself, “just give it to him man, shit.” “I see how yaw is, yaw just gone do me like that,” Will said as he swapped his ten-dollar bill for his precious pearl. The night went on some went down the block and around the tree, while others got straight to the point calling the slingers by their game names, “aye Pookie, what you got for me?”

“Aye, wassup Theadore,” Matthew said as he slapped him five. He immediately noticed what must have been up for the barter today, Theadore lifted the blue tarp covering the stolen grocery basket, “look man, what you think about this,” he asked?

“Come on man I ain’t got nowhere to put that right now,” he said as he fallowed his eyes along with the long-length flat screen tv.

“What about this then,”

“Nigga if you don’t get yo bartering ass out of here, cash Mathafucka,” Daniel said in an annoyed tone.

“Shut up nigga, what is it, Theodore? Show me what you got.”

It hung perfect from the collar of Matthews Dmx tribute Balenciaga sweatshirt, it shinned like knew, while the diamonds blinded the boys in blue as they slowly cruised down the block. Ten was the magic number and they made it just in time for rush hour. Like the line leading out the food bank on Tuesdays, they began to swarm in, the echo of their footsteps was like hallow stone being hit with paper towel rolls, blaring and lingering. Some sat on the bricks down the street, others adjusted their inner tubes, while the mains created huddles of jabber. They called it brushing teeth but the boys knew better, they knew their slang talk was just a cover for what they were really saying, “shsh, brush yo teeth man, there go the boys,” Samuel said as he leaned in deeper. You could hear them going at it, they were like those guys on wall street about to make a big trade. Low key and stern, Willis put forth his pitch, he was more convincing than a car salesman about to bust a deal on Christmas eve. The whole point was to get as much as he could for the little he didn't have. The trixter, the logic suppressor, his voice was as familiar as the overnight sweetness seeping from the chimney at the local Bimbo, just two streets over.

Red brake lights casually presented themselves,” how yaw doin tonight,” one officer asked as he rested his arm on the base of his open window. “We doin good, don’t come over here botherin us, we don't want no trouble.” “whos that come out here, the officer said as he shined his

flashlight toward the direction of the voice. “Ahh, what’s up Phillts, hows mom and your sisters.”

“They good, everybody’s good,” Perry replied. While the flashlight blinded his eyes and Matthews new found treasure trove glistened like hot grease dripping from cast-iron fried bacon another black and white parked, rolled down his window catching the drip of the gold plated diamond engraved work of art. “Where did you get that boy”?

“Out yo Mathafuckin mammas closet!”

“What did you just say!”

“Darden that’s enough, cut it out.” The other officer said before any other words were exchanged. His face went pell, a clammy sort of rage peeked through the thick bulletproof glass that night, you could see the sweat seeping from the edge of his hairline, his eyes were like bullseye darts, able to pierce through the shell of a coconut with just one look.

“You guys have a good night,” Arlington said as he pulled his flashlight back into his vehicle. When the grooves of his fresh rubber made it to the corner of first street all that was left was eerie unsettlement and anger-induced frustration.

Ch.4

Acrimonious

The look in her eyes told many stories but it was the rhythm of her cracking tone that gave it away. Chopped fragments of soft words twined with shaded tones as she felt the touch of his masculine palm deeper than she ever had. She savored his tender caress, allowing herself the moment to indulge, to be fully present. As his hand slid from her wrist to the top of her shoulder, her eyes followed, the longer she allowed him to touch her the more captivating and alluring he became, worthy of the shivers he produced. The doorway was like the long expressed golden gate before you get to heaven, the back of her straight black hair thrusted forward as her shoulder blades rested along the peach white frame. Her eyes were like dark rubies, capable of seeing every ounce of devotion mirroring her smooth brown skin, continuously meeting back in the center. With every trace came a slow pause of release, a slight peak in their matching perception, the tremble of her petite frame made his chest quake, he enjoyed knowing he aroused her. Her fingers intertwine behind the back of his neck as he thrust her thighs over his, butterflies fill her chest as she takes him in. She pulls him in deeper, allowing him to fully feel her. “Mommy,” a voice yells from down the hall. Her palm meets the middle of his chest, with every ounce of strength she can muster, she pushes him away.

“Matthew stop.”

“Damn.”

Ch.5

Sweat

All four of them faced forward with the tips of their fingers interlaced behind their heads. Their knees sheltered by wet dirt as they dug deeper with every second, he pulled up hesitantly as flashbacks began to pour in. “Keep your fingers uncrossed,” the officer said with distinct agitation coming from his tone, he was loud with a dreadful roar. “My arms are burning man!” The officer turned, placing his attention on the young piss color boy, “what did you say?” It took one glance for Matthew to know who he was, he had the same look and the same above-the-law ego he sniffed on him days ago.

Officer Bobby Darden, who now had his bouton gripped and ready for an opportunity to strike. The gold plate of his name tag glistened with bold, black printed letters, screaming rookie of the year. As the force of his bouton began to powerhouse its way toward the mouthy yellow fifteen-year-old a rage-filled outcry stung the drums of Dardens ears, “what the fuck did he do?” Matthew walks closer, now with his phone distant from his body capturing every detail of the unlawful detainment he possibly can. Darden grits his teeth, “who, the fuck do you think you are?” He steps back, folds his shades from his hairline down to his eyes, he opens his palms, “hahaha,” his teeth resemble a brick wall, they are perfectly straight but none match the bridge above or below. He quickly places his bouton back in his holster, peers down at the boys while the sweat from his slicked back, jet hair traces his face.

He tucks his shirt, slides his fingers from the back of his belt around to the front, “yaw have a good day now.”

Ch.6

Ten-Oclock

“Nigga!” Matthew met Perry's palm on the low side, bumps fist, and makes himself comfortable. The afternoon slips away like a toddler reaching adolescence, ten o'clock hits, just in time for the routine patrol.

His face is lean, straight, and without emotion. His cruiser slides by first with his window already half down, his lips are like lines, they rest on top of each other. Piercing, you can hear the silent fuck you echoing through the tents. What was worse his grin or his fluctuating brows that teased with arrogance as they peeped up and down? He rested his glare on Matthew while directing the roll of his eyes towards 4th ave.

“Look at him, you see him?”

“Hell yeah, I see his ass.” Perry eases his gaze toward Matthew as they watch him drive by.

Moments later Jammie rolls down the porch ramp with elation in his eyes and a smile to match. He catches up with Matthew at the end of the driveway where they are still shooting craps. “Whassup boii,” he yelled as his chair settled in next to him. “Boy? Nigga, what you doin up so late, ain't you supposed to be in bed. Hahaha”

The moon gave off a different glow that night, the usual bright yellow shine was dim, it was cold even, Matthew stood gazing at its distinct change. A mixture of eerie and unsettlement made itself a home in the pit of his stomach. Something was coming, a bad feeling caught his step, as frost blew from his mouth. “Bop,bop,bop. Bop, bop.” He looked at Perry as his stiff feet were now glued to the ground, he uttered out a slight whisper that could and would only catch Perry's attention. “4th ave.” His lips trembled with fear, as the seconds of silence seemed like minutes of bewilderment.

Daniel peaks from the side fence leading to the backyard, he has his strap in his hand, finger on the trigger, with the barrel pointing down. “Come on man,” Perry taps the back of Matthew's arm waking him from his slumber of confusion. He quickly gathers himself, pulls his strap from the back of his pants, and runs to the garage, Perry follows him. Jammie pulls a 500 street sweeper from the grey backpack hanging on the back of his wheelchair. He’s ready, he ducks his head while eyeballing the street. He knows the game and he knows whassup, any minute now an enemy stowlow could be wrapping around the corner with guns firing. But that's it, no more commotion, the bullets cease, all that is left is the easy sound of burnt rubber heading in the opposite direction.

“Fuck, that bitch ass shit, mathafuckas wanna come to our hood startin some shit, I bet its those same fuckin Dosh boy fags that been talkin all that shit.” An angry Jammie rolls from behind the tree with his 500 still on his lap, his face is dark, a little stained from the vaseline he uses for his morning routine, he looks like a black version of Jack Nicholson in that 80’s film where he is running around with an ax yelling “here's Johnny”! Except Jammie has a riffle and there is no victim for him to make prey.

One thing I'll never understand is the strange phenomena that only seem to take place in the hood. They are never late for their patrols, never, every morning there is the same set and every night there is the same set, except for weekends, weekends are reserved for the overweight, donut eaters that don't even enjoy antagonizing the citizens of the ghetto, they are just there for coffee, donuts, and a paycheck. It took thirty minutes for the sirens to begin buzzing in the back of their ears. Even eerier than before, his window was down to the base of the door frame, he let his left-hand dangle outside. The cheese coming from his face was the biggest giveaway since the 10 extra hauls of food landed at Demington heights food bank last June, leaving the entire community filled with loaves of bread and cream cheese danishes for weeks. Darden was ecstatic, exhilarated really, he smiled so big you could see the glare coming from his molars.

He did the same thing, the exact eye roll, the exact forehead gesture pointing towards 4th ave, the obvious point of attack. It was like he knew what was going to happen before it happened and he was proud. “Fuck did he do it,” Perry whispered.

Ch.7

Breath

He woke suddenly to the vibration that shook the top right corner of his bed, panicked with his heart racing, he launched forward-looking to his left than his right, seeing nothing but dark patches of dark, he realized he was still in his room. the collapsing bridge disappeared and the snapping cables that sequenced like falling dominoes vanished.

“Hello,”

“Pook, did you hear”?

“Hear what”

“Lil baby got shot, and their two kids too.”

“Huh”

“Pook! They all died.”

His stomach groans with agonizing sorrow, he grabs near his navel releasing all the oxygen his lungs could possibly hold. The room spins, his cheeks, if only they could be seen, dried and peeled like white cotton, small pieces of his face drifted through open-air of disbelief. He was as limp as spaghetti noodles being rinsed in cold water. His confused heart blanched with shock. “Nicey doesn't know what to do, her mamma said she's been going crazy all night, punching holes in walls, breaking dishes, wearing baby’s shirts, and Luca and Nunus Barretts. “Pook! They said it was a drive-by.” Her words were like soft specks of snow landing on delirious silence, he could not hear them.

“I was jus”

“I was jus”

“Lady! How are my babies?”

Something happened, something changed, as if they weren't even having the same conversation,

“Pook, can you hear me?”

He asked her again, this time his voice completely vexed,

“Lady! How are My! babies?” He played the scene over and over in his head, all he could see was Darden's eyes darting towards fourth ave. Was he threatening me? Was he sending me a message?

“Lady! I'm coming over right now!” Click.

Fast asleep, dreaming of what had to be butterflies and Lucky Charms. Even in their sleep, their contented spirits shined through. Each of their lips lay sweet on top of the other, slightly simpering. He exhaled as if immediate danger was just drop kicked and ran over by a semi, but still, Darden was up to something and Matthew knew he was at the top of the list.

“What the fuck, Matthew!”

“You just what? Were you there or something?” She whispers as they walk quietly to the living room.

“No, no Lady, nothing like that I wasn't there.” Matthew anxiously replies.

She holds out her hands directing the tips of her fingers toward him, “then what is it?

A week later his breath fails him, the easy sound of his stricken air surrounds his face louder than the man standing in front of him holding the thirty-eight Smith and Wesson. If it hadn't been for minute seconds of heart-pounding peace one feels when death comes to look them square in the eyes, he might have felt every agonizing sensation of a million scorching nails hitting all at once, his right shoulder pierced back, as his stomach groaned with a bitter slice of torture. A collapsed leg replaced that slice like a knife wound being taken over by opaque stones paralyzing his body than leaving his consciousness for last, he fell with his hands still pinned to his side, while dark streams of red misery flowed like Niagra falls on a dim day.

Ch.8

Green

He sat at the edge of the open pond, caressed the base of the now larger-than-life fig tree, proud, remembering the very first day he planted it. Twenty years had passed and the once dark brown pebbles organized exactly where the end of majestic wine green grass touched fluffed soil, now brushed sturdy shaped branches of bark and grey hints of rainbow white sparkled rocks. They mirrored the clear water oasis in a way that the water had not shown itself before. Dr. J walked away from him with a big heart and a wide smile that peaked over the white polyester draping his right shoulder, “you just don't forget Matthew.”

Black pavement painted by crimson red blood sourround him, soft splatters of rain drip as if mist were the new meaning of calm. No sound, no pain, no gunmen with a vendetta, just a river of blood flowing in one direction. His eyes opened to the same dark ally that now lit with one single yellow tented street light. The tender aroma of home met his easy-going demeanor as he traced his fingers around each bullet whole his t-shirt now permanently wore. The once open gashes of tissue were now filled with muscular stitchings of dominance. They were nonexistent, pure brawns made of hidden truths. His pecks were fuller, his abs were perfectly masculine. He was more beautiful than an angelic orchestra playing heavenly melodies on one accord. Mixed textures of twined curls and straight pouff flowed from his scalp with fine-tuned grace. It glowed like silk, passed his face to the Pitts beneath boulders of solid strength. His brass skin bedazzled like an elegant bath of chocolate fondue. Eternal palpitations of spirit rays fired through his palms enhancing vitality and zeal. He felt like he’d never felt before, perhaps the change in atmosphere was more gratifying than they thought. He could breathe, and as he could recall limits were no longer a factor. He stood to his feet, allowing his arms the room to be completely free. Thirteens of supreme grace strode with sophisticated suave, he turned corners and journeyed up blocks, the night was a feast welcoming his return.