Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 2
Page 23
That night, Pyro stuffed his face with spare ribs, macaroni and cheese, cornbread, and string beans. It felt like he was about to gain fifty pounds. Chanel had made his bachelor pad into a home with her home cooked meals and laughter between them. But behind the smiles, the cooking, and the joyous conversation, he was worried about her.
Pyro looked at Chanel and genuinely asked, “You ever thought about going to see a therapist?”
“A therapist? Why?”
“You know, to talk and let shit out. You’ve been through a lot, Chanel, and I want you to be okay. I don’t want you to stress yourself.”
“I’m fine, Pyro.”
“It’s good to see that you’re going out in public and doing you, but I want you to get active in something. You need to keep yourself busy. You ever thought about applying to college?”
“Honestly, I’m not ready for college. I just wanna take care of Mateo right now.”
“That’s cool. But Mateo would want you to function at your highest level. I know you care about him, but you still gotta live your life, Chanel.”
He wanted her to succeed, not just let days go by waiting on Mateo to make a full recovery.
“You care too much. You know that, Pyro?”
“I’m supposed to care. You’re family, and it’s what Mateo would want me to do.”
“I know, and I will do that—live my life when the time comes. But my main priority is Mateo. He’s been there for me and now I need to be there for him.”
“No doubt. And if you don’t want to see a therapist, then you know you can talk to me about anything. I can be your ear, and I won’t charge you a hundred dollars an hour,” he joked.
She laughed. “Oh, you would be that expensive?”
“Shit, for listening to peoples’ problems on a regular and then having to deal with your own shit afterwards, a nigga better charge a hefty fee.”
“Well, black people don’t go to therapy; they go to church,” she teased.
“Shit, with some of the churches and pastors they got out here today, there’s more shit going on in there than in the streets.”
Chanel laughed. “I know, right?”
Pyro patted his stomach.
“You want some more?” she asked him.
“Yo, you trying to fatten me up or something? You gonna have me wobbling instead of walking.”
“Maybe you need to gain some weight.”
“Okay, I see your plan—feed me and feed me and make me unattractive so that you can have me all to yourself.” He laughed.
She swatted him away. “You wish.”
Their joking and merry conversation continued into the living room. They played cards and Pyro’s favorite, backgammon, and grubbed on some munchies.
In the middle of a game of rummy, Chanel said, “You’re right, Pyro.”
“About what?”
“About me getting out there more and maybe applying to some colleges.”
He smiled. “Now that’s what I like to hear. Mateo would be proud.”
“Yeah. He would.”