“Bitch, you don’t fuckin’ control me,” he retorted.
“Call me a bitch again, and I swear it won’t be the alcohol that’ll fuckin’ kill you,” she shouted.
Normally, Butch would have laid hands on his wife, but a beatdown wasn’t on the menu today. Butch wanted a drink. He frowned heavily and muttered incoherently. He was a like a drug addict with the monkey on his back, craving the taste of liquor to appease his pain—to quench his thirst.
The whole family knew they needed to keep him sober or else he was going to die, but it wasn’t going to be an easy task. Things were tense inside the apartment. Every day with a sober Butch was more unbearable than the last.
While Butch became everyone’s concern, no one picked up on Claire’s sudden depression. Her abrupt dismissal from Harvard had more of an effect on her than everyone thought. Chanel would walk into the bedroom to find her sister lying in her bed in silence in the dark. Claire refused to interact with the family. She sulked alone. She even refused to abuse and bully Chanel.
When Chanel asked, “You okay?” Claire wouldn’t respond.
The first week back had been bumpy with Claire and Chanel, and although they weren’t close, Chanel couldn’t help but to worry about her sister. She knew something was wrong, but her family didn’t pay any attention to the signs. While the rest of the family was trying to keep Butch from killing himself by drinking, Claire had sunken into a deep depression. She had fallen into Chanel’s world of being an outcast, and somewhat being ignored. She would spend hours and hours inside the bedroom.
It was a depressing sight for Chanel. She had her own problems and the last thing she wanted to see was her depressed sister. Why should I care? Claire brought the trouble upon herself by cheating and lying her way through high school. She got caught, and now she wanted people to feel sorry for her. No, it wasn’t happening.
Chanel was still heartbroken. She couldn’t stop thinking about Mateo and his sweet kisses every day. She felt like a drug fiend that needed her fix. It was hard for her to grasp the thought that maybe Mateo would never come back—that maybe she was just a fling and he’d lied to her about love and wanting to get married.
***
With the scenery transitioning from warm and green to chilly days and falling leaves, for the Brown family, the worst was yet to come. They had their own changes coming.
Chanel got off the city bus and started her walk home. It was a breezy afternoon and she was on the phone with Mecca. Almost everything out of her mouth was questions about Mateo.
“You haven’t seen him around lately, Mecca? He still hasn’t called me,” Chanel said.
“Girl, he got you that sprung? I’m saying, maybe it’s time for you to move on from him, Chanel. You haven’t talked to him in almost two months, and he doesn’t call you. That’s a hint. He forgot about you, so you need to forget about him,” said Mecca. “And I told you, he’s a player and he has more than one bitch in his life.”
Chanel didn’t want to believe it. Why couldn’t she move on from Mateo? What was so special about him? Mecca was right. He had forgotten about her and he wasn’t calling for a reason.
Chanel had to admit, life at home hadn’t been so bad lately. Butch was making things miserable for Bacardi and Charlie, and Claire was in her own world of depression. That kept Chanel out of everyone’s crosshairs for the moment.
Chanel walked into the building lobby and got inside the elevator.
“Chanel, you’re a pretty girl and I know you can find some other nigga to treat you special. Shit, girl, you better be glad that you didn’t fuck that nigga and give him your virginity. You know how mad you would be?” Mecca said.
Chanel sighed. “Yeah . . . I know.”
“So, you cool at home? What’s been going on?”
“My father is still trying to fight sobriety, but that’s Bacardi and Charlie’s problem. He curses and yells at them more than they ever do me. So, I stay out the way. And Claire, she’s like not there most times. She just lays there looking fuckin’ pathetic and sad.”
“You know what that is, right?” said Mecca.
“What?”
“Girl, that’s karma coming after their trifling asses.”
“You think?”
“How they be treating you? Yes.”
“I guess.”
“All you need to do is just focus on you, get yours, and find you another man,” Mecca said.
“I’m trying, girl. I’m trying. I spend most of my time either at the library or just in the bedroom reading.”
Chanel stepped off the elevator and moved down the hallway. Conversing with Mecca was always uplifting. She smiled as she entered the apartment. It was quiet. She didn’t see Butch or Bacardi. God was locked up, and she was thankful for that. She figured Charlie was somewhere out in the streets trying to help her man make bail. Chanel hoped he would rot in jail. She knew God was bad news. She felt it in her entire body. Jail was the perfect place for him, she believed.