11:00am - Wednesday, June 13th, 2021 .
The church is warm, sun shining through the huge stained-glass windows, Pastor Bibbs standing off to the side offering his condolences, his good intentions fall on deaf ears as my little brother's just barely keeping it together beside daddy. I don't know how to feel. I've never not liked church.
It's the one day a week we get all dressed up. Sunday. Mama in her big colorful hats and dress. Daddy in his suit. Kyrie, Ke'Andre and I slicked in Vaseline looking like glazed donuts, we don't like it but mama always says "a well greased baby is a loved baby." Mama always pulls back my hair into a bun for church, never braids, always natural, says the church ladies will judge her if my hair looks "too grown."
Church day's mean big breakfast too.
Daddy making bacon, eggs, and honey glazed ham. Mama on the biscuits, cookies, and cake for after service. But today, It's not Sunday. Today, it's only Kyrie and I having to suffer through Mama's aggressive greasing. Today, there's no horrible singing from Daddy in the kitchen. Today, Mama isnt all colorful with her fancy hats and dresses. Infact, none of us are. We're all in black. Kyrie in his black suit, me in my black dress and stockings.
The weather's great, about that time when Grandaddy would start to light up the grill and everyone on the block would come out and sit on their porches, but KeAndre isn't here to enjoy it.
Mama nudges me forward, but it doesn't feel like I'm moving—not really. My feet are walking, but I'm not the one in control. Ever since that day, it's like my body's been stuck on autopilot, like I'm watching everything from outside myself, a third-person perspective I can't escape. Nothing feels real. That's not my brother. Sure, it's his body lying there, but that's all it is—just a body. His skin's a shade too light, unnatural. His nose piercing is gone, and his waves are just slightly off, like he didn't have time to lay them right. I can practically hear him complaining to Mama that I'm "tryna throw his game off" by commenting on it. But this is not my brother.
The brother I knew would've had a shit fit if he saw the pinkish makeup they put on his lips, trying to make him look lively.It's a funeral, but the thought makes me let out a quiet chuckle. I'm not sure if Mama noticed, but I think she did—her grip on my hand tightened a little as we stood there, staring down at his body."Mama, that's not Ke'Andre," I mumble, my hands clutching the edge of the casket. Mama always told us to speak clearly, to never mumble or talk under our breath. But I don't think she cares about that right now. She's too busy trying to keep herself together for all of us."Baby..." she whispers, her voice shaky as she glances at me. That's all she says.Daddy glances over but doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. He can see how none of us are okay. Without a word, he takes me and Kyrie back to our seats in the front pew. Kyrie's only ten. He gets it, but he also doesn't—just like me.
After that day I've never liked churches.
Everything was fine. Ke'Andre headed off to school, of course being a pain in my ass so I told him to go fuck himself. The kitchen was empty when I said it but daddy with his damn superhuman hearing heard me from the front hall and I got told off. In hindsight, I wish I never would've said it; Kyrie and I found him shot in the park. Cops think it was "a random act of violence" say they don't know who did it, but everyone in South Gate knows.
Daddy always tells us "Don't start messing with that gang bullshit, once you in, you in. That's why I do what I do, so you guys won't have to worry bout' that."
Ke'Andre never listened though. Daddy's a Kingpin, he's part of The Apostles, you ever see dudes with white bandanas, that's when you know what area you in. People like to joke that my daddy and his friends are like the ghetto Avengers, which I mean, they aint wrong. They're a gang, but it ain't like they're out here robbing and killing folks, nah, they more like, keeping the peace. Makin' sure the community stay's whole, keeping people who aint supposed to be here, out. Aka Hakeem and his boys. If anything goes down, it's cause they stirring shit up. Ke'Andre always wanted to prove himself to Daddy and his boys, always acting out when they were around, trying to show them that he was cut out for they lifestyle.
Yeah it resulted in him always getting in trouble but he aint never cared. If anything, it just made him want to keep going, to prove he could hold his own. This time though, he got caught up.
Rule number one.
When you're associated with gangs, don't go talking shit knowing you can't back it up.