#and I’m going through sunflower seeds like a FIEND
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Galaxy Girl
Fox Mulder x Reader
Words: 2980
Summary: The Mulder family celebrates the eighth birthday of their daughter, Grace.
Notes: Not much of a summary, but I hope you guys really enjoy this one. I wanted to write some fluff for Fox, but I also had to throw in some sad moments concerning the other kids at their daughter's school. Again, hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! (P.S., I named their daughter after Grace from Return to Me.)
-
You woke up to feel the emptiness in your arms and panic sent through you.
“Fox.” You whispered, nudging your husband’s arm to wake him up. When he didn’t stir, you spoke louder. “Fox.”
“Hmmm,” He groaned, his eyes slowly opening. When he saw the fear in your eyes, he was wide awake.
“Where is she?” You asked, searching every corner of the tent. A snapping twig outside caught both of your attention. Fox cautiously moved the flap of the tent to the side, stepping out when it seemed safe. The rising sun cast his shadow onto the tent, along with the small mass creeping out of the bushes.
“No… please!” He exclaimed as the shape leaped onto him. Hearing him scream, you bolted out of the tent. Fox was lying in the grass, attempting to defend himself as the little creature tickled him. You sighed with relief and couldn’t help but laugh. “Save me! Save me!” Fox begged through his uncontrollable laughter, the masked fiend on top of him pinching and poking his sides. You lifted the beast off of him, removing the ugly monster mask to reveal your giggling daughter beneath.
“Rawr!” Grace growled, pretending that her fingers were claws. You set her down and leaned so that only she would hear you.
“Tag team?” You suggested, bringing a giant grin to her face. You both slowly turned back to Fox, who had just gotten up.
“What?” He asked innocently. You and Grace exchanged a mischievous smile.
“Attack!”
You both charged him, tackling him back into the grass in a whirlwind of tickling and pinching.
“This isn’t fair!” Fox shouted through a chorus of laughter. Powering through your very brutal attack, Fox grabbed you and rolled over, turning the battle on you. Seeing that her team was losing, Grace quickly joined her father’s side.
“Traitor!” You exclaimed, hardly able to breathe from laughing so hard. After a few minutes of tickling torment, the three of you lay in the grass out of breath but all with grins on your faces. Grace was in between the two of you, holding hands with each of you. You turned to her and smiled. “Happy birthday Gracie.”
You went inside and made breakfast- blueberry pancakes and bacon, Grace’s favorite. Fox and Grace sat at the table, drawing pictures of the tent outside. Grace’s had a small flying saucer hovering over it.
It was her idea to camp out in the backyard, using a low hanging branch to hang the tent and bringing out the couch cushions to sleep on. Since it was her day, you let her decide everything- within reasonable limits. No trips to the moon would be arranged, but you would try to make it as special as possible.
“So who did you invite to the party?” Fox asked, putting Grace’s drawing up on the fridge. Grace shook her head.
“I didn’t invite anybody. I want to spend the day with you guys.” She was smiling, but her finger tapped her side. She did that every time you asked who had taken your best shoes and she told you it was the little green men. “That’s my perfect birthday.” You could just see Fox’s heart melt, kneeling down to envelope her in a hug.
“That’s my Galaxy Girl.” He beamed. You felt a twinge in your heart, knowing the true reason why there wouldn’t be any party.
Grace wasn’t the most popular girl in her third-grade class. You had spoken to the teacher a few times and she told you that Grace was being teased by the other kids. They called her names like Alien Girl and Space Geek. You didn’t remember eight-year-olds being so mean.
“I hope there’s room for one more at this party.” A voice said from around the corner.
“Auntie Dana!” Grace squealed, practically tackling Dana and her bags of presents.
“Hey Scully.” Fox greeted happily. Clearing the table and putting in the sink- without rinsing them off, as usual.
"Can I open them now?" Grace begged. Dana shrugged.
"Ask your mom." Grace looked up at you and pouted her lips, her green-blue eyes wide and pleading. Those same eyes gave you a wink, but now it was Fox trying to persuade you. You sighed.
"You can open one." Dana handed her the smaller of the two bags and Grace tossed the tissue paper aside. Inside was a box of those little plastic stars that stuck to the ceiling and glowed in the dark.
"I love them!" Gracie exclaimed, capturing Dana in another hug. Fox reached for something on the counter, but whatever he wanted wasn't there.
"Where are my sunflower seeds?" He asked. Grace shrugged and a cascade of shells fell out of her jacket pockets. A guilty grin spread across her face and shook took off up the stairs. "Gracie Samantha Mulder get back here!" Fox chased after her and you and Dana laughed.
"She's just like him" She chuckled. You leaned against the counter.
"Sometimes I worry she's too much like him."
"What do you mean?"
"I love Fox." You sighed. "But he isn't exactly the most popular agent in the bureau."
"The other kids don't like her," Dana concluded grimly. To her, Grace was one of the sweetest little girls she'd ever met, but she could see why her interest in extraterrestrials and UFOs might not be well accepted amongst the other children.
“According to her teacher, she doesn’t have any friends, the other kids pick on her, and all she does at recess is sit alone reading tabloid magazines.” You opened one of the drawers and took out a pile of invitations. “Her teacher found these in her desk.”
Scrawled across almost all of them were crudely drawn flying saucers with the words “Space Freak” and “Alien Girl” in big letters. Dana shook her head, her heart breaking for that little girl.
“She told Fox that she didn’t invite anyone. She doesn’t want us to know that this is all happening.” You ran your fingers through your hair. “I don’t know, maybe she thinks that she can just handle it on her own.” Dana gave you a small smirk.
“She gets that from you.” You laughed, knowing she was right. “Have you talked to Mulder about it?” You shook your head.
“I can’t…” You looked at the picture on the fridge and smiled. It was taken when Grace was born. The night you brought her home, you found Fox fast asleep on the couch with Grace sleeping on his chest. “You know how he is. He would feel like this is his fault. Grace is his world. Besides, those 8-year-olds wouldn’t know what hit them.”
“I’m about to call some parents myself,” Dana added, only slightly kidding.
You put the vandalized invitations back in the drawer and the two of you went out to the back porch. Unbeknownst to you, after reclaiming his sunflower seeds from his thieving daughter, Fox had come back to the kitchen to ask you about the plans for the day. He came out from the doorway, having heard the exchange between you and Scully. He opened the drawer where you had hidden the invitations and felt his heart drop. One had the image of a figure he presumed was supposed to be Grace, but the bully had added antenna and pointed teeth under the words “E.T… Go Home!”
He couldn’t believe it. Gracie told him everything. Why hadn’t she told him about being bullied by the other kids? Not only was Grace keeping secrets, but you knew about the whole situation and kept it from him. He put the papers back in the drawer, running a hand down his face.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” He muttered to himself. The last time you hid something from him was when you were being threatened by a secret society to stay away from him. But that was years ago before you were married.
“Daddy, can we go to the park now?” Gracie asked from behind him, making him jump. He pushed back all of his confusion and hurt and just smiled.
“Of course,” He leaned over to be at her level. “We can do whatever you want. It’s your birthday, sweetie.” Her smile broadened and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was really feeling.
“You’re the swamp monster!” She shrieked, sprinting out the door towards the nearby park. He tried to push everything he’d heard to the back of his mind and chased after her, making monster sounds that would probably concern the neighbors.
-
The table was oddly tense while Grace blew out her candles. Fox was glancing at you while he crunched his sunflower seeds. While Gracie had a big grin on her face, you could tell there was another emotion hiding underneath. Dana, wanting to defuse the situation before anything happened, suggested for Grace to open her presents.
You gathered in the living room and sat next to your husband, putting your hand on his knee.
“Everything okay?” You asked, feeling a twinge of guilt. Once you figured everything out, you would tell him. He shrugged and put on a smile that you could tell was fake.
“Yeah, of course.” The first present Grace picked was the second one Dana had brought. This one was in a rather big box that Grace tore open quickly. Her excited squeal told you exactly what was inside.
“It’s a microscope!” Grace bear-hugged Dana and your jaw dropped.
“Dana, when you said you had a big surprise, I wasn’t expecting this.” Microscopes were expensive, even ones made for kids.
“So you knew about this too?” Fox muttered angrily.
“Too?” You turned to him with a confused expression.
“Are you okay, dad?” Grace asked.
“Nothing honey. Why doesn’t Aunt Dana show you how to use your new gift?” He explained, motioning for you to follow him into the kitchen. You and Dana exchanged a look before you followed him.
“Fox, what’s going on?” You asked. He leaned against the fridge, crossing his arms.
“Why didn’t you tell me that Grace is being bullied?” You stepped back, about to ask what he was talking about. "I heard you talking to Scully." He pulled the invitations out of the drawer.
"I didn't…" You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. "I didn't want you to worry. I knew how much her keeping this from you would hurt and I wanted to try and figure out how to handle it before I told you- which I promise I was going to."
"Jesus, Y/N, they're calling her 'Alien Girl'." He lowered his voice to keep from shouting. "That's my fault."
"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" You could see where his frustration with you was coming from. He wasn't angry. It was guilt.
“If I hadn’t always been so… me with her maybe she would be like the other kids. Maybe she’d be popular and liked, like you.”
“You think I’m a freak.” A small voice whimpered. You both turned around, a horrified look spreading across your husband’s face.
“Gracie, no, of course not.” He stammered. Everything was just spinning out of his control.
“You both think that.” She said accusingly, turning her glare on you. “Just like the kids at school.” Her big blue-green eyes welled up with tears and she ran off, disappearing up the stairs to her room.
“Grace!” Fox shouted after her, taking a step to follow. You grabbed his arm.
“Give her a while… she’ll be okay.” You said sadly. He looked like he desperately wanted to say something, but instead, he stormed off to his office to think in the dark. You groaned, laying your head against the cool countertop. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Dana walk into the doorway.
“I’ll get the wine.”
-
You lightly tapped on the door and opened it slowly. Dana had gone home and wished you luck. There was a single lamp on, besides the chair that faced the window. You made your way around the desk and knelt down.
“Fox?” You began quietly. He had a pile of drawings on his lap that he’d been looking through for the past hour. Each depicted some alien or monster being fought off by a caped hero known only as ‘Galaxy Girl.’
“I never wanted her to change…” He said, turning to another picture. In this one, Galaxy Girl was accompanied by two others with the words Mommy and Daddy underneath each. “I just didn’t realize how much my obsessions were rubbing off on her.”
“Our obsessions.” You corrected, putting your hands on top of his. “I’m just as much a part of this as you are.” You took the drawings and set them on his desk. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He put a hand on your cheek.
“I’m sorry I stormed off.” He moved off his chair so he was sitting on the floor beside you. “Do you remember what I said to you the night we brought her home?” You paused, thinking back eight years. “I said that you were my moon and stars.”
“And that I’d given you a galaxy.” You smiled and laid your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. “She’s going to be okay.” He took a deep breath.
“I know.” He shifted, a devious grin spreading on his lips. “You know… I’m sure that if I went to her school and told all those kids they were under investigation for grand larceny, they would leave Gracie alone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” You looked up at him with a mischievous look of your own. “Say they’re parents are committing tax fraud.” You both laughed and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You didn’t get very many intimate moments with your husband, but this one was perfect.
You and Fox went upstairs and made your way to Grace’s room. More drawings were scattered across her floor, along with different toys and art projects.
“Gracie?” Fox called out. There was a dim glow coming from under her closet door, so you knocked gently.
“Leave me alone.”
Fox sighed and turned the knob. Grace was curled up in the corner of her closet, hiding under a blanket.
“Permission to enter?” He asked. She threw the blanket down, revealing a scowl and a tear-streaked face.
“Permission denied.”
“Come on, Gracie.” He begged. She shook her head and threw the blanket over herself again.
You blew out a long, dramatic breath. “I guess we’ll just have to open your present all by ourselves out here.” You shook the box lightly. Grace slowly peaked out again. “We’ll be out here… opening your present.” You closed the door and Fox gave you a look.
“What are you doing?”
“Just wait.” You whispered sitting down on her bed. After a few seconds, the closet door creaked open. This time, she covered her face using a piece of tape and a sheet of paper. “Grace, why do you keep hiding your face?”
“Because I’m a freak.”
“Grace, you know that’s not true.” Fox scolded. “Now can I please see my beautiful daughter’s face?” She nodded and he lifted the paper off, lightly taking off the tape. “Grace, what I was saying before, I just meant I wished the other kids didn’t make fun of you.”
“Everybody has bullies, Grace.” You put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she sat between you. “Even me and your dad.”
“Really?”
Fox nodded. “Oh yeah. You know what everyone at work used to call me?” She shook her head. “Spooky Mulder. They thought I was weird because I’m interested in the unexplained. Because I want to find the truth.”
“And when I was in high school, there was a group of girls who would spread rumors about me.” You figured telling her that those rumors falsely accused you of sleeping with the whole soccer team was probably for a different time. “We just had to learn how to face them.”
“But you’ll have us supporting you the whole time,” Fox added. Grace sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve. “We love you more than anything in the world, Gracie.” A smile spread across her face, making your heart leap.
“Can I open my present now?”
You and Fox chuckled as you handed her the box. She ripped the wrapping paper, looking down at the image on the box. Without hesitating, she tore open the box and pulled out the telescope.
“Happy birthday sweetie.” You beamed. She pulled you and Fox into a big hug.
“This was the best birthday ever.” The hug tightened. “I love you guys.”
-
Grace had just fallen asleep in the tent after you spent the rest of the night using her new telescope to look at the stars. You and Fox were sitting on the lawn, eating leftover pieces of cake.
“So what did you mean about those girls in high school?” Fox asked suddenly. “I thought you were always Miss-Loved-And-Adored-By-All.” You scoffed.
“Yes well, according to those girls I was ‘adored’ by basically every male athlete in school.” Fox whistled.
“Damn.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You shrugged. “Besides, I never really liked jocks.” He moved closer to you.
“Oh really?”
You nodded, leaning in. “I’m more into the nerdy type. You know, the ones with offices in the basement surrounded by file cabinets full of conspiracies and unexplained phenomena.”
“Are you making fun of me?” He wondered in mock offense.
“Not at all.” He draped an arm around your waist and pulled you into a kiss.
And that’s how the day ended. Grace was a year older and the three of you were closer than ever. You knew that it wouldn’t last forever. But for this night, all there was, was your perfect family, lying under the moon
#fox mulder x reader#david duchovny#fox mulder daughter#dana scully is the best#x files imagines#fox mulder fluff
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1-92 ??
honestly it’s been a boring night. thanks for keeping me busy!
1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?Nope2. You talked to an ex today, correct?Nope!!3. Have you taken someones virginity?Nuh uh4. Is trust a big issue for you?Nah. If I bother hanging out with someone, I usually trust them.5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently?Nope6. What are you excited for?My Hindi class!! I like the people there.7. What happened tonight?I’ve been watching anime and blogging.8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?Nah.9. Is confidence cute?Yes!! Know you’re good and own it!10. What is the last beverage you had?Water, the source of all life.11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?A lot! I have primarily guy friends. I also trust my brother.12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?Those are like the only pants I own.13. What are you gonna do Saturday night?Here I am living my ideal.14. What are you going to spend money on next?Bedding, I think. Mine has a stain and I found a cute replacement!15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed?I r r e l e v a n t16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?Boy i hope so17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?My sister Lee and wr3h and towneater and well!!!! Many people, I guess. Friends.18. The last time you felt broken?:/ Today19. Have you had sex today?Nope!20. Are you starting to realize anything?Life is a continuum of realization. If you don’t realize it’s not real life.I realize. I comprehend. I process. Analysis: I want beans.21. Are you in a good mood?Lukewarm. Cruise mode.22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?Sure why not.23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s?I???? Avoid looking my dad in the eyes and I just realized this????24. What do you want right this second?To be with people that want to be around me!! I want that so much.25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?Nothing. It’s okay.26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color?Yep. Caramely.27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?Hell no. That’s nasty.28. What was the last thing that made you laugh?Myself. I was panicking while driving trying to squeeze into another lane and singing a song about it to hear the sound of my own voice, then caught myself and realized how stupid I sound. There’s that Realize.29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now?At this point I miss my retail boss that yelled at me all the time. at least I was getting attention. I shit you not I had a dream I went back to that godawful job last night. That’s what we’re at; I would take anybody.30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?I think for some actions, one of the consequences is ostracization. Severe crimes fall under that. It makes sense that your victims wouldn’t be able to trust you.31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to?Nah.32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?One does, one doesn’t.33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda?Yep! Not worth how it makes me feel.34. Listening to? Cherry Coke - Don’t Kill My Vibe. Okay did you know I always lie to this question because I just have a random playlist on shuffle but I go through it and find one that fits my current mood??? A trickster.35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore? Yeah, but it’s not preferable.36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?No. They were from a past life or another dimension and I have no memory of it.37. Do you believe in love at first sight?Yeah I’ve experienced it!! 38. Who did you last call?My mom.39. Who was the last person you danced with?Wow, fuck. Probably some stranger, years ago??40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?I didn’t.41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake?Over a year D:42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?Nope43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?How dare you ever think I do otherwise.44. Do you tan in the nude?No lad I have other skin concerns I’d rather battle.45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss?D....efinitely......46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?Nope! I don’t usually leave em hanging and say good night.47. Who was the last person to call you?My....mom.....48. Do you sing in the shower?Nah I have roommates.49. Do you dance in the car?YEAH BUDDY!!!!50. Ever used a bow and arrow?Yeah and my dad offered to buy me one and stuff but I only want an elvish recurve. I don’t want this useful nonesense.51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?A couple weeks ago! They’re super cute; I am one hot tamale.52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?Well yeah, but I can enjoy some cheese.53. Is Christmas stressful?It’s the most peaceful time of the year I think!!! Wait shit I just had flashbacks to all my former Christmases no it’s not.54. Ever eat a pierogi?Don’t ask me that if you aren’t gonna feed it to me.55. Favorite type of fruit pie?Boysenberry56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?Master thief! Thanks, Sly Cooper, for the terribly unrealistic dream. 57. Do you believe in ghosts?Ya they watch me take a piss58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?Really commonly lately.59. Take a vitamin daily?No I bathe in my nutrients.60. Wear slippers?Never ever im a barefoot beast61. Wear a bath robe?I wear a sleep robe and it’s SPICY62. What do you wear to bed?That robe or a night shirt. Never pants. Too hot.63. First concert?Never been64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?Wal-Mart. I don’t have any airs about me. No dignity to save.65. Nike or Adidas?Fuck em I won’t fall for their feet prison complex.66. Cheetos Or Fritos?Cheetos67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?Peanuts68. Favorite Taylor Swift song?Tumblr said she isn’t good and I must obey.69. Ever take dance lessons?Life is the greatest teacher.70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?Pussy eater.71. Can you curl your tongue?Nah72. Ever won a spelling bee?My biggest accomplishment actually. I’m unduly proud of that fact.73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?All the time.74. What is your favorite book?The MIsts of Avalon75. Do you study better with or without music?Without music but I won’t do it unless I have music.76. Regularly burn incense?Nope77. Ever been in love?Always!78. Who would you like to see in concert?Marianas Trench79. What was the last concert you saw?Calm down abt the concerts maybe.80. Hot tea or cold tea?Hot tea u sick fiend.81. Tea or coffee?Tea82. Favorite type of cookie?No bakes. Those ones that are THICC83. Can you swim well?I can stay afloat.84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?There are people that can’t? v:85. Are you patient?Externally yes. Internally no.86. DJ or band, at a wedding?This is a real problem real people face and debate about? Tell everybody to put headphones in and play their own music and don’t talk to each other.87. Ever won a contest?One time I sewed a pillow and it won a ribbon at the county fair.88. Ever have plastic surgery?No babe it’s natural89. Which are better black or green olives?Neither.90. Opinions on sex before marriage?I don’t know what that is I’m sorry91. Best room for a fireplace?The throne room.92. Do you want to get married?Sure.
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All Tarik Cohen ever needed was a chance
CHICAGO — Before Tarik Cohen became the Human Joystick — before the Chicago Bears‘ do-everything back was bamboozling All-Pro safeties, landing back-flip catches, rewriting record books, or arousing Soldier Field – he was sitting at a computer in his fourth-period class at Bunn High School, dangerously close to his teacher’s desk, composing emails. Clandestine emails.
“What’s up!” he’d begin after slapping his name in the subject line, operating with caution for fear of the teacher’s watchful eye. He’d conclude with a link to a highlight reel that would hypnotize the uninitiated. In between, a plea, to any college coach that would listen: Give me a chance.
There was an unspoken desperation about the exercise. But this, by the winter of senior year, is what Cohen’s recruitment had come to. He had played his last down of high school football. He’d captivated a rural North Carolina town of 344, and compiled his exploits into a motion picture to dangle in front of college talent evaluators. All he needed was one bite.
Yet recruiters came and went. They saw the breakaway speed and absurd production. They looked right past it, right over Cohen’s head. And they’d invariably leave Bunn coach Chris Miller with an all too familiar parting message: “Coach,” they’d say of the 5-foot-6 Cohen, “he’s too small.”
In other words, before the Human Joystick programmed himself with the power to put Pro Bowl linebackers on the seats of their pants, hundreds of collegiate coaches across America were threatening to unplug him. Possibly forever. So contingency plans began to crystalize.
“I had took the ASVAB,” Cohen says, referring to the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery test. “I had scored real high. … I was going to go to the Navy.”
Six years later, he sits inside Bears headquarters Halas Hall, speaking just like he moves on Sundays: expressive yet succinct; jumpy and dizzyingly quick; and, most of all, liable to burst with exuberance at any instant. But as he sinks into a sofa, a camouflage-colored jacket preparing him for the early-November cold, the topic of conversation isn’t touchdowns or spin moves or schematic versatility. It isn’t stats or speed or size.
It’s the disadvantages and difficulties that could have preempted all that. It is, in ‘Rik’s words, “perseverance.” It’s the poverty endured; the setbacks withstood; the available excuses shunned.
It isn’t the NFL life Tarik Cohen always dreamed of. It’s the obstacles he leapt over and around to live it.
A retelling of Cohen’s journey can begin in many places; after all, he rarely stays still in one for very long. This one begins with sunflower seeds spilling onto a Raleigh, North Carolina, floor. Cohen’s cousin, Cornelius Newell, had bought them. Newell, 11 years Cohen’s elder, has been many things to the now-23-year-old: guardian, role model and trainer among them. On this summer evening, he served as NBA 2K adversary. Against all odds – “He doesn’t even play 2K,” Cohen says – Newell had beaten Tarik. And anger simmered inside Cohen’s teenage body.
After the loss, Cohen eyed the seeds. Because, as he animatedly argues all these years later, “he bought ‘em for me.” Even in defeat, he defiantly thought, “I’m still boutta eat these sunflower seeds.” But Newell had other ideas. Two hands reached for the bag. Pretty soon, neither was chowing down. Instead, they were swinging at each other. The cousins had thrown on boxing gloves to settle arguments before. But this was a legitimate fistfight.
“Our whole family,” Newell later explains, “is sore losers. We hate to lose. But he’s the worst.”
So many elite athletes do. The hatred becomes a work ethic’s catalyst. Cohen, in many ways, is no different. As a child, the rage supplied a temper. After a devastating Madden loss, he hurled his controller at the TV. A separate fit broke his PlayStation. (Cohen, as you’ve probably gathered, was and still is a gaming fiend.)
As the hatred of losing aged, though, it began to stoke an obsession. An obsession with self-improvement. After one set of back-to-back Madden losses to Newell, Cohen begged for a Game 3. Newell refused – and takes the story from here: “He stayed up aaaaaall night practicing, and woke me up in the morning to play again.” The result? “Oh, he beat the hell out of me. He beat me bad.”
Eventually, the competitiveness fused with a love of football and drove ridiculous summer workouts. Newell would devise them: Miles on the treadmill, laps in the pool, pushups, situps, squats. Cohen, more often than not, would complete them. Newell would occasionally float a pair of Jordans or another object of Cohen’s desire as incentive.
But in high school, a new genre of defeat had become incentive enough. Coaches began telling Cohen he wasn’t good enough. Not good enough for varsity as a freshman or sophomore. Not good enough or big enough to succeed at the next level. Cohen interpreted the lack of opportunity as: “I think you’re going to lose.”
And as he says now, “It immediately became fuel” – fuel transcribed in a Twitter bio that begins: “OVERlooked…..UNDERrated.”
Skeptical football minds, though, weren’t the only sources inflaming Cohen’s hunger.
The hardship
Another retelling of Cohen’s journey might unravel chronologically, beginning with a childhood on the move, in search of stability. With uncertainty, stopgaps, and constant upheaval. “We moved so many times when I was in elementary school,” he remembers.
But Cohen isn’t especially fond of talking about all that. Never has been. Never lets it cloud his life. So when I first hint at the family’s struggles, in search of the perseverance that propelled him from backwoods obscurity to this sunlit room lined with Hall of Fame artifacts, he doesn’t take me all the way back. Instead, his mind wanders to eighth grade.
Football, by then, had become a passion. But this particular autumn, several inhibitive factors conspired to make it a void. Cohen didn’t have a ride to and from practice. His mother didn’t have a vehicle. Re-zoned districts left him too far away from school. So rather than strap on an oversized helmet and shoulder pads after his final class of the day, he’d flow right into homework. Or PlayStation. Occasionally tackle football with friends at the park. But mainly “Madden and school,” he says. Football, for the time being, had been stripped away.
The four-letter Q word, though, never infiltrated his mind. Perhaps because adversity, throughout his youth, had been par for the course. Cohen’s father was never a presence in his life. His mother, Tilwanda Newell, toiled tirelessly to support Tarik and his three brothers; to pay for football equipment; to maintain basic necessities.
Sometimes that meant entire weekends away at work, leaving the boys to fix Hamburger Helper, hot dogs and cereal for themselves. Sometimes it meant co-opting the stove as a heater for the whole home. In sixth grade, for Tarik, it meant one pair of jeans. From Walmart. He’d wear them to school three out of five days per week.
But the everyday tribulations, whenever they arose, never seeped onto gridirons. The eighth-grade emptiness merely ramped up ninth-grade anticipation. With coaches and upperclassmen pitching in with rides, Cohen returned to football. By 11th grade, he was a varsity star. In 12th, when Tilwanda moved to Raleigh, Tarik stayed with an aunt, and at Bunn. A scholarship had thus far been elusive. But with one more standout season, Cohen reasoned, he could sustain his dream.
Tarik Cohen took to emailing college programs, asking anyone to give him a look. (Tarik Cohen/Twitter)
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The offer
“Can I tell his family?”
That was Chris Miller’s first question for a college assistant when he heard the news. Midway through Cohen’s senior season, the diminutive playmaker was still without an offer. And without an offer, college would have to wait. The Navy beckoned. But Miller, Cohen’s high school coach, caught wind that a then-FCS school was readying one. He knew, he says, because the recruiter had told him so: Absolutely he could tell the family.
So he did. Excitement built. The following week, a coordinator arrived for the follow-up visit. And the happy ending to Cohen’s scholarship-less ordeal was minutes away.
Or so Cohen thought. He doesn’t quite recall a concrete promise. But he was “under the impression … Yeah, they ‘bout to offer me.”
When the meeting commenced, though, the vibe was “funky,” according to Miller. It concluded with a, “Thanks a lot, we’ll be in touch.” Miller sniffed trouble, and asked for a private word. Minutes later, he was seething. “They kind of rescinded the offer,” he says now. “I went off.”
“Then I had to tell [Tarik],” he continues. “And that’s a crusher, man. Because you have the dream. You didn’t think it was necessarily going to happen. Then it’s there. And then it’s snatched. He could have easily just folded up.”
Tarik Cohen received one offer to play college football — from North Carolina A&T. (Getty)
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The opportunity
The two-hour drive through the heart of North Carolina, from Greensboro to Bunn, isn’t the most eventful of excursions. The odd southern fast-food staple interrupts otherwise unremitting greenery. But Rod Broadway, at the time North Carolina A&T’s head football coach, is grateful he made it.
Trei Oliver, a then-A&T assistant, had fallen in love with an undersized running back from the tiny town, and had been imploring Broadway to trek east to see for himself. Broadway’s initial response had echoed dozens of others: Tarik Cohen was too short.
Nobody ever told him so to his face. And size hadn’t prevented him from gashing a defense for 262 yards in a state playoff game. But he was aware. Aware that he just needed one believer. But aware he might not have any.
Until Broadway hopped on the road and saw past the physical traits. Rather than being turned off by Cohen’s size, he was turned on by his “bubbly” personality. Less than a year later, Cohen was slipping in between engaged offensive and defensive linemen at Aggie practice, as if ducking underneath a human arch, forcing coaches to rewind film dozens of times in astonishment. Four years later, he’d toppled the MEAC’s all-time rushing record, and scored more touchdowns than any other player in school history.
These days, he remains fiercely loyal. To the family that supported him, of course. And to his new brothers, his Bears teammates – “watch how you talkin bout my QB boy,” he tweets at Mitchell Trubisky doubters. But his attachment to his school is undying. He rocks A&T sweats; gives back to Greensboro kids; and gloats about rivalry-game victories. And on a Sunday night in November, gives Minnesota Viking defenders the sauce in prime time. But he knows he wouldn’t be here without the one institution that gave him a chance.
The moral
Nowadays, no retelling of Cohen’s journey remains complete for very long. Because nowadays, the Tarik Cohen story adds chapters weekly. It’s the boundless energy. The mazy scampers. The video game-like shiftiness that earned him his nickname.
It’s the type of play that became a regular occurrence back at Bunn, when hundreds bore witness rather than millions. The attention-snaring one-handed grabs. The soul-stealing jukes. The scoop-and-scuttles that rendered squib kicks futile.
Cohen poses a similar all-purpose threat today. He lines up in the backfield and the slot; darts in motion or stays split out wide. He is, to Bears offensive coordinator Mark Helfrich, a “fun toy.” And “there’s more there,” says Helfrich, who smiles dreamily at the thought.
But the 70-yard catch-and-runs, the impossible cuts that infuse frigid Chicago nights with Carolina heat … they’re merely a sliver of who Cohen is. Head coach Matt Nagy hails his “infectious” enthusiasm. Others claim Cohen “never has a bad day.” The energy, according to locker room neighbor Prince Amukamara, isn’t quite bottomless. That is, “unless there’s music playing,” Amukamara says. Then Cohen comes alive.
But would Tarik Cohen be Tarik Cohen without all the obstacles? Without the parentless weekends, or the eighth-grade football deprivation? Without his mother’s brief homelessness while he was in college, for which his best antidote was to “hurry up and get to the NFL?”
As if to answer, he heads across town on an in-season off day, to 103rd and South Elizabeth Street, down to Julian High School on Chicago’s South Side. He scans a room full of students, and sees at-risk kids, some from single-parent households, wrestling with hardships. He looks around, and in one sense, sees himself.
He’s reticent to talk about his challenging upbringing publicly, in part because he knows millions of Americans face worse. But here, he’s “equal.” He has come to listen to the teens, to “give them somebody in my position to hear them out.” Somebody who can relate. Somebody who is walking, flourishing proof that perseverance paves a path to rewards.
He now relegates most of his athletic perseverance to back pages. Though he still retweets dismissive scouting reports, and brandishes ignored emails as receipts, most non-believers have become afterthoughts.
But he wants to ensure that kids like 13-year-old Tarik never are. “That’s why I like to share my story and give hope,” he says. Perhaps not hope that others can one day whiz around a football field like the Human Joystick. But hope that endurance pays off.
– – – – – – –
Henry Bushnell is a features writer for Yahoo Sports. Have a tip? Question? Comment? Email him at [email protected], or follow him on Twitter @HenryBushnell, and on Facebook.
Source: https://sports.yahoo.com/tarik-cohen-ever-needed-chance-010751303.html?src=rss
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Story One - The Yellow House
“It’s been too-oo hard living! But I’m afra-aid to di-i-ie, cause I don’t know what’s up the-re-re-re, beyo-ond the sky-y.” Jerrica’s coarse but soulful singing carried the lyrics to Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come” over the harsh winds of early March. The white flowers on the dogwood that stood in her front yard shivered in the thirty-six-degree weather, but not Jerrica. She didn’t mind the cold when she felt like she did. All she needed was her bag of sunflower seeds and a cell phone, literally. She was butt ass naked. Her clothes, an oversized gray t-shirt with bleach stains and a green pair of jeans, made a pile in the dirt with her black thong as the cherry. While holding the phone’s speaker to her ear with one hand, and dumping sunflower seeds in her mouth between melodies with the other, she howled to the heavens with her knees in the dirt.
The sun always illuminated her one-story, two-bedroom home right before sunset. Its pale-yellow shingles glowed bright, allowing it to blossom among the brick houses that neighbored each side. The door, battered and abused, splintered through its dark-brown coat of paint. Security bars covered each of the five windows. There was a purple 1992 Ford Taurus L sitting in the driveway, where the concrete was cracked. The property was a perfect square, outlined by a chain-linked fence. Honeysuckles overtook the left side, spreading their sweet smell across the yard.
Suddenly, the front door flung open and Darnell stood in its place. “Jerrica!” he hollered over the roar of the wind.
“Then I go-o-o to my-y-y brother, and I say brother, help me plea-ea-ease.” She was focused on the music; she didn’t notice Darnell stampeding toward her.
“The hell you doing!?” He clutched Jerrica’s tiny arm so tight that it felt like her bone was ready to snap. He snatched the phone out of her hand and yanked her up, until her eyes were level with his chest.
“Dammit, Darnell! You’re hurting me!” She cried.
“Why the fuck you out here naked!?”
She let out a delusional laugh as she squirmed her way out of his grasp. “This breeze is everything!” She pranced around happily while her matted black hair shifted stiffly in the wind.
Darnell shuttered as the wind cut through his basketball shorts and white Hanes tank-top. In that second, he thought about how fucked up it was that he was doomed to playing care taker to a thirty-two-year-old drug fiend. He was only twenty-one, so he really didn’t even know shit about taking care of himself. But, in that very next second, he remembered how fucked up his life actually was, and it suddenly didn’t seem all that unbelievable. “Bring your junkie ass in the house, J-Jerrica,” he commanded with his teeth chattering.
She didn’t. Instead she stopped, dropped her bag of sunflower seeds, and inhaled deeply through her nose. “You smell that?”
“Jerrica!”
She looked over at Darnell and a grin flashed across her face, exposing her crooked smile. “Honeysuckles!” She galloped over to the bush and picked a few of the small yellow flowers. “We gotta get the honey out of ‘em, like when I was little!” Bringing them to her nose, she inhaled deeply again, then stuffed them all in her mouth. She coughed as she spat them out.
Darnell noticed that a few of the neighbors were outside, all of them holding their phones, recording.
“Woorrldstarr!” A sixteen-year-old boy, wielding an iPhone, antagonized them from across the street.
Darnell sucked his teeth. “I can’t stand this muhfucka,” he muttered to himself. “Aye, lil nigga! Tell yo’ freak ass momma Darnell said come through so I can get that sloppy ass top again!” he yelled back with a flick of his middle finger.
“Yeah, aight. Tell yo’ crackhead ass sister to stop fucking niggas in high school for they lunch money and I got you, big homie!” the sixteen-year-old responded with satirical sincerity.
Darnell clenched his fists, his face grew hot.
“Had that bitch like, ‘Oohh, DeMonte, you fuck me like a grown ass man!’” DeMonte, the sixteen-year-old, mimicked Jerrica’s voice almost perfectly. “She was about to throw the neck but her trifling ass had sunflower seed shells all in her teeth!”
In her own little world, Jerrica tried to stuff honeysuckles into Darnell’s mouth.
Darnell grabbed Jerrica and threw her to the ground. He stared down at her with his jaw clenched, breathing heavily through his nose, nostrils flared.
“Stop it, Darnell!” she pleaded.
DeMonte’s obnoxious laugh could be heard from across the street. “Go easy on her, Little Brother!”
Without a word, Darnell grabbed her by the arm, even tighter than before, and dragged her into the house.
The living room was junky. Envelopes with red stamps covered the coffee table, unopened. A surgical needle, a spoon, and a piece of plastic, ripped from a Ziploc bag, laid among them. An off-white residue was smeared into the wood. The air was thick with the smell of burnt grease. Smoke fumed from the pan on the stove.
Darnell shoved Jerrica to the side and bolted into the tiny kitchen.
Jerrica stumbled and fell to the floor.
“Look at this bull-shit!” Darnell grabbed the pan. With the grease still popping, he stood over Jerrica and waved the charred pork chop in her face. “Look what you made me do! The fuck we gonna eat tonight!?”
She was sitting on the creaky hardwood floor with her back leaning against the door, still naked. She was completely out of it, covered in dirt, staring off into an imaginary reality.
Darnell stepped back, looked at her, and his expression softened. He dumped the charred chop in the trash, put the pan in the sink, and helped his sister to her feet.
***
The next morning, Jerrica woke up to the smell of a Black & Mild, wine flavored, with the wood tip. The hum of voices vibrated through the thin walls. When she opened her eyes, a figurine of White Jesus was hanging on the wall beside the bed, smiling down on her.
“Thank you for waking me up this morning, Lord,” she prayed as she climbed from under the covers. Darnell had dressed her in gray sweatpants and a black “Virginia DARE” t-shirt before he helped her into bed the night before. She squinted as she pulled open her thick curtains, sunlight flooded in through the window. The breeze was calm and the birds were chirping. Three red cardinals fluttered back and forth on the branches of the dogwood that stood in her front yard.
Her room was disgusting. Sunflower seed shells were spat all over the floor. There were dirty plates piled on the dresser, a fork and a steak knife laid on top of them. Her dirty clothes were everywhere, besides inside the laundry basket that was full of random shit, tucked in the corner. There was a weird odor lingering in the air.
The only thing that was in order was her bookshelf. It was a children’s bookshelf that was as old as she was. It had been painted pink, her favorite color, but the brown wood showed where the paint had chipped away. All the books were lined up in perfect alphabetical order, besides the Bible that sat alone on the top shelf. She had books about addiction, several on self-help, a couple that examined religion, and about a dozen that explored love. She’d read every single one of them, more than once.
She grabbed her Bible and opened it to expose its hollowed-out pages. Inside was a small bag of heroin and a pink lighter. She rolled her eyes when she realized that her spoon and needle were on the coffee table. Pulling out a wedgie, from the front, she stumbled into the living room.
With an exhale of rolling white clouds of tobacco, Darnell passed the Black back to the guy who was sitting on the couch across from him. Next to him was an Asian guy, Japanese, who scrolled through Twitter while he sank down into the sofa.
“Who the hell is this you got in my house at eight in the damn morning?” Jerrica interrogated, looking crazy in the face.
“Don’t come out here bugging n’shit, Jerrica.” Darnell waved his hand, shooing her.
“Nigga, and what if I do?! This my house now, Dar-nell,” she snapped back.
Darnell sucked his teeth and pointed to the Asian kid, who still didn’t look up from his phone. “This is Ethan, I work with him at that pizza place over on CVU’s campus.” Coastal Virginia University was just a few blocks away. The yellow house was located right where the neighborhood full of college kids collided with the hood. Darnell looked over at the other guy and hesitated slightly before he spoke, “and this is Julius.” Both Ethan and Julius were around Darnell’s age.
With a condescending smile, Julius nodded his head before he exhaled his last hit. “Hey, how you doing?” he asked, nonchalantly.
Ethan kept scrolling.
“Hello, Julius.” Jerrica’s tone matched Julius’s smile. “Why y’all two lil niggas in my house, at eight in the damn morning?”
“Ma’am, we’re-” Julius started.
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, lil boy. I’m Jerrica.”
“Oh okay, sorry Jerrica.” Julius corrected himself, with a hint of sarcasm.
Ethan snickered, but still didn’t look away from his phone.
Then there was a silence.
“Don’t get quiet now! Y’all was being all talkative n’shit when I was in there tryna sleep.” Jerrica reminded, standing there with her arms folded.
“Aye, we was talking business. Some shit about to change around here.” Darnell stated, annoyed.
Julius immediately shot him a look that said, shut the fuck up.
“Yeah, what ‘business’ y’all talking? You deliver pizza, Darnell. You deliver pizza in that raggedy ass purple car,” Jerrica mocked. As she spoke, she noticed that there was a bookbag at Julius’s feet. She thought she put two and two together. “Y’all sell drugs?” She pointed to the bookbag then turned her full attention to Darnell, “Oh, so you gonna go off and be a drug dealer?” she accused. Her concern for her brother over powered the urge to find out what kind of drugs were in the bookbag, but it was definitely an uphill battle.
Darnell hesitated to speak and glanced over at Julius.
“Me and Ethan both go to CVU,” Julius stated confidently. “We’re tryna promote change by bridging a gap between the local and college communities after the recent shootings.” He reached in the bookbag, pulled out a binder, and handed it to Jerrica.
She opened it and saw things like “Community Outreach” and “Volunteer Work” which made her lose interest, immediately, so she passed the binder back to Julius.
“I’d have you come out to an event but junkies usually scare the kids.” Julius remarked unapologetically as he tucked the binder back into the bookbag.
Jerrica’s heart skipped a beat. She became flustered as she thought about how far away kids would always stay from her, it’s the one thing that bothered her the most during her addiction. “Oh nah, your lil friends gotta go,” she choked out.
“Aye bruh, you can’t be disrespecting my sister.” Darnell spoke up, timidly.
Holding the Black between his fingers, Julius lifted his open palms and bowed his head as he exhaled smoke. “It’s all love, fam. Ain’t no disrespect,” he apologized. He took another hit, stared Jerrica in the eyes, and blew a billowing cloud of nicotine in her direction.
Jerrica had been eyeballing the Black the whole time.
“Wanna tap this?” Julius asked, offering it to her with an insincere innocence.
She almost tried not to, but she grabbed it anyway. The room was quiet, besides the popping of burning tobacco in the tiny flame that fueled the end of the Black. With her eyes closed, she sucked in the smoke like it was the first fresh breath she’d taken in a long time.
Julius watched her with a menacing grin.
Darnell watched her with an awkward shame.
“Woorrldstarr!” DeMonte’s voice could be heard coming from Ethan’s phone, breaking the silence. He squinted as he brought the phone closer to his face. “Oh no-o-o,” he sat upright and laughed as his eyes lit up with amusement. “Julius, look at this shit bro.” He handed Julius the phone.
“Yeah, aight. Tell your crackhead ass sister to stop fucking niggas in high scho-”
“Aight, c’mon fam. Turn that shit off.” Darnell spoke up again. He was starting to get angry but tried his best not to show it.
Julius passed the phone back to Ethan, holding back what he wanted to say with a muffled chuckle. He covered his mouth with his hand and turned his face into the couch, his shoulders bounced while he laughed, silently.
“Five-thousand retweets since last night?” Ethan finally looked up, stupefied. His eyes were low and red, he’d been high as fuck the whole time. “Wow, you’re famous! Congratulations!” Ethan exclaimed to Jerrica.
Jerrica tried her best to appear unbothered, but tears had begun to run down her cheeks. She wiped them away as she went into her room, slamming the door behind her, with the Black still in hand. The thin walls trembled from the impact.
“Y’all should probably bounce,” Darnell suggested, staring at the door to Jerrica’s room uneasily.
Julius reached back into the bookbag, pulled out a brown paper bag that was stuffed with a pound of tree, and tossed it over to Darnell. “Flip that,” Julius commanded, “I’ll be back in like a week or two. Have the money ready and we can talk about putting you on for real.” He fumbled around in the bookbag as he spoke.
“A week or two?” Darnell asked.
Julius shrugged, “Yeah, whenever I get a chance.” He leaned forward and looked up at Darnell, a fake sense of concern in his eyes. “But look, my nigga. Whenever I come you gotta have my money ready. I really don’t like wasting my fucking time. You feel me?”
Darnell was slightly shook, “Yeah, I feel you. I got you, bro.”
Julius relaxed again, sitting back on the couch. “And it’s not a good idea to let your junkie-ass relatives know you push. That’s how all my shit is gonna end up disappearing,” he explained as he zipped up the bookbag.
“Yeah, or they end up ‘Ice’ing’ your ass,” Ethan added. “You don’t have a little brother, do you?”
Julius laughed, “Face ass! You watched Paid in Full one time and-”
Then there was a loud boom, Jerrica had burst out of her room. Tears covered her cheeks and snot was smeared on her top lip. She was holding a steak knife, pointing it at Julius and Ethan. She was taking slow, controlled, deep breaths. “Y’all are not gonna sit in my house and disrespect me,” she said with a calmed anger.
Both Julius and Ethan stood to their feet, slowly.
Julius slid the bookbag onto his back, “Aight, we’re lea-”
“GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT!” Jerrica finally snapped, rushing towards them.
Darnell hopped up and grabbed her.
Julius and Ethan scurried their way out the front door.
“Jerrica, they’re gone! It’s okay.” Darnell spoke reassuringly to his sister.
Sobbing, she let go of the knife, almost dropping it on Darnell’s bare foot before he yanked it out the way. Her sadness crippled her and she collapsed into Darnell’s arms.
“It’s okay.” Darnell rubbed her back as he held her.
Jerrica wept.
***
Later that day, right before sunset, Jerrica sat in a rusty metal chair that she dragged from the kitchen table out into the shade of the dogwood. It was a cool seventy-one degrees, and somebody down the street was washing a car in their driveway. “Killing Me Softly,” by The Fugees, blared from the radio. Jerrica was smoking the Black that she’d finessed from Julius. Behind her she heard the front door creak open.
“Bye Darnell, baby.” A woman with a sweet and seductive voice spoke behind Jerrica.
Jerrica, in deep thought, didn’t even bother to turn and see who it was.
“Aight now, Porsha. You know where to find me,” Darnell said as he tapped her on the ass, which poked prominently through her jeans before she walked through the gate and back across the street.
“Don’t forget to give DeMonte that money!” Darnell yelled to remind her as he sat on the ground next to his sister.
“I won’t!” Porsha hollered back, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk.
“Why you giving out money like we not about to get evicted?” Jerrica asked without looking at him.
“I wanted to show that lil nigga that you don’t need his lunch money,” Darnell said before a smug smile crept across his face, “and he’s gonna be mad as fuck when he realize where his momma been for the past two hours.”
Jerrica took another hit and exhaled. “You needa leave that alone, Darnell.”
“Leave what alone?” He asked.
“That whole situation. You argue back and forth with that boy like y’all the same damn age. And she a grown ass woman humping a twenty-one-year-old. Something ain’t right with that shit.” She explained.
Darnell looked at her like, you got some fucking nerve. “I know the hell you not talking, Jerrica.” Darnell dismissed her as he reached out his hand.
Without a word, she passed him the Black and they sat in silence as he took the last couple of hits before tossing the wood tip out into the street.
“That Julius ain’t no good.” Jerrica said as she continued to stare off.
“Don’t worry about me.” Darnell argued.
She finally looked over at him. “Trust me, those little college kids don’t know what the fuck they doing. They gonna get you hemmed up out here,” she elaborated.
Darnell noticed the glow of the house, it was sunset. “Aye, whassup with you? I ain’t seen you sober at sunset since I’ve been back.”
“I quit.”
“You quit?” Darnell got excited, then remembered that he knew better. “Shut your lying ass up.”
Jerrica looked down at the ground and shifted through the dirt with her foot, “I wanted to be a teacher. You ain’t know that, did you?”
“Hell nah.” Darnell was caught off guard. “For real?”
“Yupp, wanted to teach elementary school kids, just like mommy.” She let out a sigh of self-pity, “After yesterday that shit’s never gonna happen.”
“I’m sure that ship sailed way before yesterday.” Darnell added insensitively.
Rage started to swell in Jerrica’s throat but she held it back with a scoff. “You’ll never understand why I ended up like this. You don’t know the kind of person I used to be…” she trailed off.
Darnell sucked his teeth. “See, you always say that shit, but you forget we grew up in the same damn house. Shit, Pops used to do me worse than he did you for real, for real. He used to whoop my ass. He’d just yell at you and you’d start crying cause your ‘feelings were hurt.’ Soft ass.” He’d had enough of his sister constantly playing the victim. “That man was an abusive alcoholic and there ain’t shit either of us could have done to change it.”
Jerrica was quiet for a moment before she spoke, holding back what she really wanted to say. “Mommy was so beautiful,” she reminisced instead.
Instantly, a sadness swept over Darnell’s face. He didn’t speak.
“She had a beautiful garden too,” said Jerrica, “right on the left side of the house where the honeysuckles are. I always loved going out there with her and helping pull the weeds.” Jerrica looked down at her hands. They were scrawny, ashy, and calloused, but she saw them as small and untouched as they were when she was only eleven. “The way the dirt would run between my fingers was therapeutic.”
“I really wish I could have met her.” Darnell mustered up his words through the cries that had been lodged in his chest long before that moment.
Jerrica cut him a look, but still she held her tongue from speaking what was on her mind. “One day we was out there and I was helping mommy pick the sunflower seeds, the same way we did every year. She always glazed them perfectly in honey before she put them in the oven.”
Darnell glanced over at the half-empty bag of sunflower seeds that still lay in the yard from yesterday.
“Then daddy came home from work,” she continued, “he walked over to the garden and gave mommy that same passionate kiss that I’d seen him give her over and over for eleven years, every single day. I never had to question what true love looked like. What happiness felt like.”
Darnell had never heard about this side of his father, the cries in his chest grew louder.
“Then we went inside,” Jerrica smirked, “and I remember begging for a piece of candy, so daddy reached on top of the refrigerator and grabbed the candy jar. He let me have a whole big handful,” the smirk slid from her lips and was replaced by a solemn scowl. “They had to keep it up there because, ‘once you get started with that candy your lil butt don’t know how to stop.’”
Darnell assumed she was mimicking their parents.
“So, while I’m sitting there, stuffing my face with Fun Dip and Pop Rocks, they stood over me, but I ain’t pay them no mind. All the sudden I heard mommy say, ‘It’s a boy.’”
The cries in Darnell’s chest screamed so loud that they pushed their way up to his throat. “Stop it,” he hissed.
Jerrica looked over at him, with a look as cold as ice. “You took both of my parents away from me, Darnell. Everything is your fault.” Jerrica felt a giant weight lift off her shoulders.
Darnell stood to his feet and raised his hand as if he were about to smack the dog shit out of her, but he stopped himself. Tears collected in the corners of his eyes.
“Go ahead and hit me. HIT ME!” Jerrica stood up, leaning in with her cheek, tempting him. “You a pussy, Darnell! Always so quick to beat on your drugged-out sister but let these niggas in the street run all over you! And you wanna sell drugs?” She laughed in his face.
Darnell clenched his fists and ran into the house, Jerrica was right behind him.
“Leave me the fuck alone, Jerrica!” he yelled.
“Oh nah, hell nah! I’ve been waiting twenty-one years to let this shit out!” She yelled back, flailing her arms. She walked up on Darnell and stared up into his eyes. “You said you dropped out of school to help me after daddy died. That was two years ago, now look at this fucking place. Look at me!” She stepped back with her arms outstretched. “The pain never stops around this gahdamn yellow house!”
“You think I killed her on purpose, Jerrica!? It’s not my fault I got stuck! It’s not my fault she couldn’t push anymore!” Darnell defended himself through his tears.
Jerrica rolled her eyes, “All I know is, if you was never born, mommy would still be here and daddy woulda never drank himself to death.”
“Shut the FUCK up!” he screamed.
“Come make me, pussy boy!” Jerrica instigated.
That was it. Something inside of Darnell snapped. His inner demons were playing an aggressive game of ping pong with his mind. There was yelling, and crashing, some glass broke, then there was a gruesome thud and everything stopped.
When Darnell snapped out of his fit, he was standing over Jerrica. Her head had cracked against the sharp corner of the wooden coffee table. Blood seeped from the wound.
“Fuck. No… no, no, no.” Darnell dropped to his knees and cradled her head in his lap. Blood smeared into his clothes and across his skin. All he saw was red.
Jerrica looked up at him, unable to speak. Her eyes were wide, wild with fear. Her heart was racing. Then it slowed. Then it stopped.
Darnell wept.
***
Late that night, Darnell climbed into the passenger seat of a black 2017 Dodge Charger. He’d changed his clothes and carried a small duffle bag with him. “I really appreciate this, I ain’t know who else to turn to,” he admitted to the driver.
Julius turned to him with a slight grin before he grabbed Darnell’s shoulder, reassuringly, “It’s all good. I got you, bro.”
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