part III, The black petunia

In nature things change. They also die. A flower is simple, yet complicated. If you look closely, a flower can show you all of life’s beauty and complexities. Water nourishes the roots so the plant can grow. The sun provides light so the plant can thrive. Flowers, like many other things, are indeed alive. Have you heard the one about the concrete rose who turned into a black petunia?

the water: growing together or apart?

Previously on “Ready To Die”, we left off on a cliffhanger I guess. The girl, who we can refer to as Janae (or Nae), has moved to Georgia after revealing her step dad was sexually assaulting her. She also confirmed that she had an abortion and her step dad was the baby’s father. Read “The Girl Who Went to Church” before this. The next part of the story goes as follows:

As y’all can imagine I’m reading this email like “what the fuck”. They say curiosity killed the cat and my 9 lives had expired. I was a dead J-cat. Sometimes we rush into shit not knowing the baggage people carry. Not knowing the energy they harbor. I’m not blaming anything on Nae. She was a victim. I just ain’t expect shit to get so somber, so serious. My young mind could not process the severity of this situation. I was stuck in a continuous loop of confusion. Confusion that left me uneasy. Confusion that made me angry. Anxious. Dehydrated. I couldn’t eat, only water. Water kept me alive. I was knee deep in a Tyler Perry plot. Luckily in the midst of this bullshit the most unserious person calls me. My pops.

*Hello, this is a collect call from Parchman Prison for inmate [“Big Shawny”] to accept call please press 1.

Big Shawny: Junior what is it nigga?

Junior: Nothin much, just chillin

Big Shawny: Just chillin? You ain’t on no hoes? I know you ain’t dry like that on a Friday. Where yo mama at? Tell her to give you some money for the movies and I’ll send it to her.

Junior: It’s cool, I really ain’t even tryna go to the movies tonight.

Big Shawny: I know you ain’t trippin off ol girl that skipped town on you. Yeah yo mama told me. You gotta let shit go sometimes son.

Junior: That’s y’all problem, y’all don’t even know what happened… just gossiping. I thought a grown man wasn’t supposed to gossip?

Big Shawny: See you been hangin around yo mama nem too much, you sensitive. You my son, so yo mama concerned about why you walkin around lookin depressed with yo tail tucked between yo legs. Learn how to communicate or you gon suffer in silence. Yo mama give me anything I want. Why? Because I open my mouth and communicate.

Junior: Well shit….Nae was pregnant and had an abortion. It was Pastor Johnson baby. I guess he been messin with her since she was younger. I went over there and he was trippin on me. Now what?

Big Shawny: Trippin on you how!? And don’t call that nigga pastor nothin. His name Jared. Hoe ass Jared. I always knew brah was weird. R. Kelly ass nigga man.

Junior: He just told me don’t come by they house no more.

Big Shawny: You sure? Cause a cage can’t stop nobody from bein touched…

*You have (1) minute remaining.

Junior: I’m sure, they still gon transfer you back out here?

Big Shawny: Yeah most likely cause I got a case out there too. But I love you junior, tell yo moms to handle that for me. She gon know what you talkin bout. And if you ever get hungry, I can send you somewhere to grab a ham sandwich. Just let me know.

Junior: I love you too pops, and yeah I’ll let you know.

A bittersweet conversation fasho. On one end I respect the protector mentality, but also nigga look where yo decision making led you. I don’t know what’s worse, having no father or having a bad example for a father. Nonetheless, I wish my pops was out so he could beat Jared ass. My pops was a nigga on the streets. Some real pimpin, if you will. Real stomp downs from the deep-c to Tennessee. So much so, that his dumb ass went to jail in the south. I think my mama was some game too. Never confirmed cause obviously it’s a touchy subject, but all signs point to it. I’m not ashamed though, I guess it’s better than being a trick baby.

My pops was a rolling stone fasho. Nigga got kids in Richmond, Oakland, Vallejo, and even Sac. He always told me never trust a City bitch though. Thieves and set-up artists, he called em. Anyway, I don’t know any of my siblings on my pops side and I think he wanted it that way. It never bothered me cause before he went to jail 2 years ago I rarely seen him. I feel like he showed favoritism to his square baby mamas for whatever reason. You know niggas always striving to portray that “good man” image. Who knows though, maybe the square bm’s was doing more for him. I say all that to say, I think this was something I had to handle on my own. I ain’t need that nigga advice. I knew I had to kill the pastor.

And just like that, the cycle continues. What type of bird don’t fly?

I immersed myself with the thought of killing the pastor. How would I do it? Stab him? Shoot him? I ain’t never done no shit like this. Am I ready? Could I get away with it? I don’t wanna end up in jail like my pops. Washed up. But I can’t let this pedophile pastor continue to preach false words while terrorizing his people in private. So for that alone, I am hungry. So of course I took my pops up on that ham sandwich offer. Nigga sent me to a crackhead. A .38 special is what I got. I felt like Will Smith off of “Wild, Wild, West”. It wasn’t no turning back now, I ain’t wanna be one of those niggas who went down with a gun they never used. What a waste. I had to kill this nigga.

I’m spiraling on some nerd shit at this point. Watching every hood movie we got on DVD. Maybe I could walk up on him at Frosty King like they did the niggas who killed Harold on Menace II Society. Or if he try to wrestle with me, I could shoot him like Bishop did Raheem. What if I miss every shot? Six bullets go fast and I never shot a gun before. What if this nigga kill me? That’s gon fuck the streets up fasho. I had to get my tactics up. That was my only option. Otherwise, I was gon be a dead nigga. Or a jailbird, you know, the one that don’t fly.

the sun: Thriving or Dying

Everyday that summer, I woke up at 5:55am. 15 minutes before the sun came up. I don’t know if the sun was closer to the Earth that summer, but it looked bigger. It looked larger than life. I was absorbing it. It energized me. Gave me motivation to get my ass up and go stalk this pedophile. I was consumed with it. My life would not be complete until it’s done.

I followed him for a week straight. His dumb ass ain’t know a thing. Slippin. A predator with no street prowess. I learned his whole routine. It wasn’t nothing much, he was at the church Monday-Friday from 9 to 5. Bullshittin. Saturdays and Sundays, he stayed until 9 or 10 at night. Every Friday night he got chili cheese fries from Frosty King. Monday-Thursday was a no go because it had to be nighttime. Saturday and Sunday his family never left his sight, so that was out too. Damn I really gotta kill this nigga in front of Frosty King.

So Friday comes around, of course. Shit that you dread never waste time to arrive. I’m up at 5:55am, per usual. The sun is rising at 6:10am, per usual. My confidence ain’t as high today though. I’m not as prepared as I should be. Them movies ain’t help shit. Ima get my ass killed thinking I’m Tupac. I ain’t care though, I was crashing out either way. The day goes by and it’s like a hour before the sun goes down. I started to get ready. I knew he would be going to Frosty King straight from church, so I had to put a move on it.

I’m so boosie though. I’m in the bathroom mirror posing with the gun. Looking like America’s Next Top Glock Model. Ain’t even have a Glock, I had a rusty ass .38, that held 6 shots. I’m finna spank this nigga with somethin so bunk. It was cold that day. The sun was out, but cold nonetheless. So I threw on a black trench coat with a black hoodie under. Black sweats, black forces, and a black beanie. I had to get dusty for the occasion.

Mama: YOU THINK YOU A MAN WITH THAT GUN IN YO HAND!?

I dropped the gun in the sink when she said that. Water still running and hella shit. I hurried up and put it in my hoodie and opened the bathroom door.

Me: What you say mama? I couldn’t hear you.

Mama: What movie that’s from? “You think you a man with that gun in yo hand, don’t you?”

Me: “Ima man without it”

She started laughing. I joined her.

Me: Friday, who don’t know that?

Mama: I’m just making sure I raised you right. It’s black people who never seen a black movie.

Me: That’s crazy, I’m finna go though.

Mama: Where you goin dressed like that?

Me: Hilltop with my potnas.

Mama: Oh where you get some money from?

Me: Pops had Uncle Charlie give me some money.

Mama: I wish Uncle Charlie woulda gave me some too. Ain’t that somethin. Mmhmmm.

Me: Aight, I’m outta here mama. I’m gettin on the 76, the next one come in 5 minutes.

Mama: Ok, I love you be safe.

Me: I love you too, and pops said can you handle that for him? He said you know what he talkin bout.

Mama: Nigga you late, did that last week. You need to get on it, you ain’t been focused.

Me: Aight mama, I’ll see you later.

She was right. I wasn’t focused at all. I got on the 76 in the direction of Frosty King. The 76 passed the church too. His car was still there like I thought it would be. I knew he’d probably be on his way there in the next 20 minutes. My palms is sweaty, moms spaghetti. I’m feeling like B Rabbit. Hopefully I don’t Cheddar Bob myself. It was cold as fuck outside, but I’m on the bus sweating. I know them people probably thought I was off a jigga. I ring the bell, next stop Frosty King.

So I made it chat. I’m here. Frosty King aka Murder Burger. The shadiest place to get food in the Rich. But I wasn’t there to do a food review, I was there to push this nigga shit back. I had already put my O.J gloves on when I was on the bus. When I got off I put on my ski mask. Not the sleek, fashion forward ass ski masks you see today. This was the black beanie on my head that I had to cut holes into. So I already had it on, just had to pull it down. The sun sets and I take a seat on the red part of the curb. Head down, ready to crash out.

It was pretty dry for a Friday night, but then again this ain’t the safest place to dine so it made sense. I watched traffic go by, just waiting. Waiting for that big ass white Hummer to pull in. What type of preacher drive a Hummer anyway? Still sitting there. Still waiting. Hand on my strap like a stud. Impatient. Anxious. Then boom. He pulls in. Nigga was slappin Donnie McClurkin “We Fall Down” like the bitch ass nigga he is. Perpetrating.

He sits in the car for a few minutes. I’m shaking, finna have a panic attack. He turns the music down and answers the phone. I hear a lady say something about Nae but I couldn’t make out what. His face stays the same and he hangs up shortly after. I’m over it at this point. Should I just walk up to the car and drop his windows? Should I wait until he get out and order his food? I should have thought about this shit before I got here. What a dumbass. Another car pulls into the parking lot. Black jeep. Older nigga. He bounce right out and start walking towards the window. The pastor see him and bounce out too. He was tryna race him to order.

I stand up. And my stomach drops to my ass. You know that feeling when you so scared it feel like diarrhea finna shoot out? That was me, stuck. Plus I botched the hole cutting portion, so I couldn’t see shit. At this point, these niggas had already made it to the window. The pastor beat him there, of course. Conniver. That moment alone sparked my anger back up because he always had to have it his way. Oh yeah, I’m following through. I reach in my hoodie to grab my bulky tool. And before I could pull it out…

“You hungry?”

The random OG nigga intervened. I must of looked like a fucking bum the way he was concerned with feeding me.

OG: What you want? It’s on me young blood.

I froze up. How ima shoot em with OG in my way? I couldn’t. I didn’t. My nerd ass watched the pastor get back in his Hummer and drive off.

OG: If you don’t want no food, at least take a pamphlet.

I grabbed the pamphlet, didn’t say nothing, and walked away. Mission failed. I look at the pamphlet and it’s fucking ONS. Go look it up if you’re not familiar. Oh, the irony. In my head, I ain’t do it because there was a witness. Truth be told, I was just scared. Even if the OG wasn’t there, I would have still froze up. This gotta be how Shawn felt when he couldn’t kill Ghost. A disappointment.

petunia, the black one

I got back home feeling worse than when I had left. I went straight to my room. Didn’t even acknowledge my mama. She ain’t care she was drinking her wine watching “The Parkers”. I felt like isolation was needed. I had to reset. I had to lock in. Sitting alone in my four-cornered room, staring at candles. I even thought about praying at one point. I couldn’t though. I wasn’t down bad enough to get on bending knee and pray to white Jesus. That was out.

I stayed in my room all Friday night and all of Saturday too. I wasn’t doing nothing but looking at the wall. Wall looking back at me. Dry. Sunday comes and like a phoenix, I rise from the ashes. I hop up, shower, and get dressed. I told my mama I’m coming to church with her today. Pastor Jared Johnson’s church. She was shocked. I haven’t went with her since elementary. I had no plan, something just told me to go.

I was bringing my gun too, no doubt about it. This Richmond, niggas get shot in churches too. So my mama turnt up off that Mary Mary “Shackles” while she finish her blunt. Talking bout “I just wanna blaze you”, bogus as hell. To make matters worse, she sprayed a gallon of White Diamond perfume to mask the weed smell. I don’t know, it made my head hurt though. But she was ready and so was I.

We ain’t really talk on the ride over and it’s not a long drive. She high, in her zone. And I’m thinking about killing this nigga while he give his sermon. She pull up to the church parking lot and everybody just getting there too. Her high ass drove over a curb, drawing hella attention to us. I’m buzzed out, ready to get inside.

Pastor: Young man, I ain’t seen you in here in a minute. Good to see you again, how was your Frosty King the other night?

I coulda popped his ass right there. Right at the entrance. He was taunting me. Old pervert bitch. But before I could say something..

Mama: When you get some Frosty King and ain’t bring me none?

Pastor: Hey sister Jackson, don’t get me to startin problems.

He hugs her and looks me dead in my eye behind her back on some movie villain shit. I’m blowed. I’m doing it after his sermon. He know what time it is. He begging me to make a move. The pastor walks to the back to get ready. We go to our seats. Not gon lie, it was a packed house. You woulda thought Kirk Franklin was finna perform. The pastor had good jerry. Had all them folks in there brainwashed.

He in there pressing them broke ass people for tithes and offerings, but riding around in a Hummer. All these folks live in low income housing, but y’all got the biggest joint on the block. You the leader of the church, but you out here raping little girls. This nigga wasn’t no leader. He wasn’t no pastor. He was the devil himself.

Pastor: Good morning church.

Church: Good morning, pastor.

Pastor: God is good…

Church: All the time!

Pastor: & all the time…

Church: God is good!

They in there turnt like he really said something. Everybody though, even my mama. I’m disgusted.

Pastor: Today we are here to talk about the steps of a righteous man.

The audacity. I’m ready to do it now. I’m ready to crash out in front of the whole church. Fuck it, ima just go to jail and politic with my pops when they transfer him. This nigga playing in people face. Ima just do it. So I stand up. Look around. Walk to the aisle and BOOM!

“RPD! We have a warrant for Jared Johnson”

Whole church go into pandemonium. All you hear is lord and Jesus throughout the building. People speaking in tongues and catching the Holy Ghost. I heard a few “that ain’t nothin but the devil” comments. It was getting real religious in there. Them people ain’t know what to do. They started to malfunction. Glitching in real life. This old lady just kept saying “no no no, no no no”. Shit was like the twilight zone for a good 2 minutes. Then somebody said..

“What’s the charges officer”

Officer: Sexual assault and human trafficking.

They cuff him and walk him out. The church is in shambles. Richmond PD start searching the building and questioning people. His wife, Janae’s mom, hands me a piece of paper and walks off to talk to the police. My mama grabs me and starts heading towards the door. She was paranoid cause she was high smelling like weed. We leave out and it’s news cameras, police cars, regular cars… hella shit going on.

We barely make it out. It’s serious. We make it home and my mama instantly roll up and get on the phone with my auntie being messy. Talking bout her nerves bad. Yeah mine too. I don’t wish jail on nobody. I much rather that nigga got popped or something. But beggars can’t be choosers. I looked at the paper Nae mom gave me. It was a number.

So I called..

Nae: Hello.

I paused for a second. Shit ain’t feel real after all the shit that happened since I last talked to her. She sounded sleepy though, or high.

Me: Wassup it’s me.

Nae: Um hello, who is me?

Me: Stop playin bro its Junior.

Nae: [faintly] oh junior, love of my li…

She started slurring her words and coming in and out of the conversation.

Me: Hello?? What’s goin on? Why you sound like that?

Nae: Why you care so much? Ima make my money regardless..

Me: What the fuck are you talkin bout? Is you good?

Nae: I’m great baby daddy, I’m great..

She bust out laughing. I’m talking bout, I heard the spit come out her mouth through the phone. One of those crazy people laughs. Jean George type shit. This was funny to her. She had lost her fucking marbles. Sound like she was laced.

Me: Man what’s goin on with the facility, you still there?

Nae: Nigga I was never there. He sold me to a pimp. You the only dummy out here livin life like its a fairytale. I fuck tricks every day and get my ass beat. What a life.

Me: Hold on, slow down. That shit finna be over, Pastor Johnson went to jail.

Nae: How? How it’s gon be over Junior? That don’t mean shit. Once you in this life, that’s all its gon ever be. I ain’t gon never be nothin. I make it out this, then what? I go back to livin a regular life? I get married? Have kids? Fuck that and fuck you. You don’t know shit but what you know.

Me:………

I had nothing to say.

Nae: Like I thought. How you think you finna save me? Save yoself.

And hangs up. And just like that all I could hear was “Fine Time” by SWV. You picked a fine time to tell me you don’t love me. You picked a fine time to tell me you don’t care. What a life.

Mixed up in my emotions, I realized along the way that I lost the plot. It became more about me than anybody else. In my pursuit to find togetherness, the situation caused us to grow apart. Nothing grows unless you water it. The seeds you plant need nurturing. Ego and nature don’t mix. Ego is unnatural. Ego thinks he’s the sun. But the sun gives. The sun gives life. The sun brings about a new day. A new beginning. A new chance to make it right.

The concrete rose is beautiful and special. Tells a story of realized potential. Gives hope. But what happens when life forces you to be dark? Devoid of light. Will you embrace the emptiness or slip away into the abyss? The Black Petunia. Rare.

fin