One thing the hoods ever taught me was, never mess with marines. And here I was, in this hell of a club waiting for Elvis. I knew what he would tell me. Words that Luke also used to tell me, or better yet, words that I would tell any man daring to have eyes on my sister. But I felt this was not just a random chit-chat of brotherhood; it was Aaliyah in the picture. Although he still had not in placed me with what the convo was about, I guess I will just act as our normal day bro out.
Truth was, the girl was beautiful. She had nice hair, lengthy nails, and fingers, a nice shape... that of my liking. She was my type, or rather, what most men in my position would well state, or rather spend hours staring at.
I was drinking Red Bull, yes, Red Bull.
I could not bring myself to have any alcoholic drink, not with Elvis desiring a talk. I needed to be sober, overly sober. And I mean overly sober.
And here he came, all casual, with some leggings, his normal style, as if he were from the gym or something like that. I barely had time to hit the gym. I had a really tight schedule. If I took another piece of my rest time to enter the gym, I would die of lack of rest. But one thing I knew, I really did like my rest time not taken for granted.
"Dude," Elvis stated as he sat right across me and called the waiter for some whiskey. He insisted on putting in a lot of ice, not sure why.
"Waited for long?" he asked, and I just shrugged. Now it seemed as if he was the older one, and I, the younger. He just seemed really ready for a talk; he was barely playing around, he truly wasn't. "No shift today?" he added.
"I gave my colleague my shift. From tomorrow, I'll have busy weeks ahead," I stated. I had not been quite serious in consideration to my job as before. Before, I was the one who actually asked the older guys to give me their shifts. But now I was the one giving out, since my previous mental breakdown. This previous one has not been one I would be proud of. I have been really feeling it in my nerves, as it knocks all the way.
But Aaliyah has somehow dissolved everything. However, sometimes you have to feel it. But she has been constantly available everywhere I go, and this means, I have barely had time to be alone with my thoughts.
"What's your ideal type of girls?" he asked, after the waiter poured us the drinks. This was a question, of course, men spoke about, but being that Elvis was asking me this, I knew he had an intention. He knew everything about me. The past years, I had been with girls of different textures. As long as you were a girl and I felt lonely, I would just have my time with you, and the next morning wake up as if nothing happened.
But the truth is, I do not condone that act to be done by anyone else. I have been saved.
As I stated, I have not done that for the past few weeks or maybe some months, like two or three. Because things have been really tight on my edge. I have some unfinished business that I started.., that has started creeping around, and I know for sure, till death is when this business will be finished. And thinking about it just drains me.
However, Luke has been the best friend, the best friend everyone deserves. He has been taking care of the business ever since I lost contact with it. I needed nothing to do with it, nothing for sure, because what is the use of a business that gives you nothing but a big letter L and literally drains everything—your mental health, your wishful liking for life, and additionally, your happiness.
"Hayzen," Elvis called out, and I realized I had zoned out. I was just shaking the glass, the glass of whiskey, the thing I did when I was thinking of things of my past, the things I really did.
"I like... I don't have a type," I stated. Truth was, of course, I knew my type. Any man, if given the opportunity to mold their ideal type of woman, they would literally just mold that type. Some would place in the largest of busts, others the slimmest of waists, others the largest and curviest of bodies, others the slimmest of beings, others the most distinct textured faces. They would just literally mold them. So yes, I knew my type. Of course, I knew.
"Have you ever been hurt before?" Elvis asked. Men do not talk about heartbreak directly this way. I barely even called Luke to tell him about my previous girl leaving. I barely did. I faced it. Hell, that past... Hell, that.
"Where are we heading with this conversation, what is your concern?" I questioned as I drank the first gulp of whiskey. Cold, I found myself thinking. The plan was not to drink anything, nothing. I wanted to carry this conversation as sober as I would ever get because I knew, I knew from the time that guy, whom I sat next to whispered to me the words, 'not her, marine's...' I knew what I was up against. I knew. But that was never really... I never thought about it as much. Furthermore, I did not do anything to Aaliyah, except the kissing. Hell, I had forgotten that kiss. I barely even remember some important details. I barely do.
"My concern is, I don't like your involvement with Aaliyah," he started, paused, drank in one gulp the whiskey, added himself another, and then continued, "I don't like…., Hayzen…, I know, you know, I know a lot, a lot about you, and what you are. If the odds were off, I would have a point of you. So I am going to ask you bluntly and straightly, man to man... Do you like her?" he finished, and leaned forward, staring at me. I was sure, of course, of my answer. My answer would be yes, I like her. But I just... I am, I do not know if I am capable of being what she wants. I can give her everything—my money, my bank account, my payslip, my phone, my wealth, myself... I mean my physicality. But I do not know if I can give her my emotional side. My heart seems to be far away on this earth, as if tossed into the deepest and coldest of mountains and icy nations. These were the words I would say, but truth is, I could not tell Elvis that the girl will have the bare minimum of my emotion. Of course, I could not. Even Luke warned me against this. He sure did, he really did.
"Aaliyah, she is a good girl. My involvement with her is nothing more than her being your sister, and I being her brother's friend and protector to her," I stated, drank in the whiskey, feeling it drain the lump in my throat, and finished, "there is nothing in consideration. No feelings." I watched the empty glass in front of me and poured myself another. I drank all of it as if I was being forced. "The whiskey is good," I added, and poured another, as the bottle became almost half empty.
Elvis asked for more, like five more bottles, inside the most full of ice. Elvis liked cold beer, he really did. For me, I barely minded, I just drank, I just took it in.
"Good, let it be as that," Elvis stated, and we continued drinking, as my head shifted. My head hated being told what to do with my emotions, but this time, Elvis was more than correct. I would not, I would totally not give Aaliyah the kind of love she needs. She was too young to succumb her emotions and invest her heart in a man like me. I knew I would take care of her in all possible ways, but I would still be empty the minute she would leave the door, and I would not succumb to my emotions of wanting to text or call her. I would barely remember even what color she loved, or what cake she enjoyed eating. I would barely even notice what kind of hotel she loved more. The moment she would leave, I would forget. I would forget, until maybe she calls me and asks how I was doing. That is when I would come up with something, like a lie of why I never called, telling her I was working, or asleep, or my phone switched off. So, Elvis was right. She was too young to succumb and invest her feelings in me. I would literally break her when I break, or better off, die when I realize I killed her even before she found her roots of what kind of love she likes and deserves.
"Aaliyah," I thought, as I finished the whiskey in the glass.