RASIM
It was a gray day and the sun was hiding behind chunky clouds. God was threatening the young hustlers with rain. Rasim, Donald, Brooklyn and Chance were standing against a fence in front of a building within the projects, waiting to serve customers.
Although the sky would most likely open up and spill water, the day was actually heavy with possibilities. Earlier Donald received a call from Phantom, their boss, and it sounded promising. If shit worked out, he could earn more money, which meant an increase for them all.
Rasim was ecstatic for Donald because over the six years after the rape charge, he couldn’t seem to catch a break. He was in prison for a year and came out lost and confused. It wasn’t until Sheila was mysteriously found with her neck slit open that Donald was blessed with a bout of good luck.
For starters, he married a girl who reached out to him on a pen pal site and wrote him frequently while he was locked down. When he came home they had twin girls and everyone said he seemed more relaxed since he was a dad. He didn’t pop off the handle much anymore and all he could talk about was his kids every free second he got. He wanted to be the parent he never had and he did an outstanding job. Everyone surmised that even a wild bear could show love to its cubs.
If he received the raise from pawn to lieutenant, he would be able to help his wife, who held a government job, with the expenses. He would save his paper, buy his family a nicer home and move them from DC to Maryland.
“Who fucked you up?” Chanced joked looking at Rasim’s mouth. Snow had thrashed him something fierce and it showed.
His homies looked at him and awaited an answer.
“Your mama’s fat ass,” he winked.
Everyone chuckled.
“Man, I can’t stay still,” Donald said as he continued to look up the block for Phantom’s car. “Where this nigga at?” He looked at the watch on his arm. He stuffed his hands in his jacket.
“I don’t know why you worried,” Brooklyn responded as he leaned against the fence, making it squeak. Over the years, he lost a few pounds, which he converted into muscle, and during the summer months he would fake spill some shit on himself to gain a reason to take off his shirt and flex his muscles. The bitches loved it but his homies hated the show. “You got that. You already know.” He slipped his hood over his head.
“Right, who else gonna get it?” Chance asked as he served a chick he fucked once in high school who was so skinny he almost didn’t recognize her. “Me?” He pointed to himself. “Or that fake ass exhibitionist to your right?”
“Fuck you,” Brooklyn said.
“What about me?” Rasim joked as he popped a few sunflower seeds into his mouth.
“Ain’t nobody hiring your Afghan ass to do nothing but find Saddam Hussein,” Chance responded with a corny joke he was known for. “I know you got his number, don’t you? Tell the truth.”
Rasim wore a smile but he was sure getting tired of people bringing up Hussein whenever he was around. He did all he could to look like his friends, including stuffing his Kufi in his pocket, wearing baseball caps and hiding most of his face. Most of the time, he looked Indian or black. But at the end of the day they always reminded him about who he really was…Pakistani. And he didn’t know who to hate more because of it. Himself for neglecting his religion and people, or his friends.
“I’m not trying to hear that shit,” Rasim said as he pretended to busy himself with the phone in his pocket. “How ‘bout you check under your mama’s gut for the nigga.” He paused knowing his parents owned a bakery and Chance’s mother was overweight. “That bitch eat more product than she sell.”
The young men spent another ten minutes laughing and disrespecting each other’s mothers until Donald said, “Rasim, go get me some Hennessy from up the street. My nerves gonna be bad unless I get a drink.”
“Aight,” he said as he zipped his jacket.
“I’m going with him,” Brooklyn said.
“I don’t give a fuck, nigga,” Donald responded.
He gave Rasim the money and he and Brooklyn bopped up the street to the liquor store. Neighborhood rock stars since day one, they waved at the locals on the way to their destination. They talked about their girlfriends and how Rasim got caught with Selena again and how he was really done with her this time. Brooklyn heard all the shit before but he was reminded of something when he heard Selena’s name.
“Hey, you ever see her kid?”
Rasim frowned. “Naw, why you ask that?”
“Because I swear he looks slam like you, slim.”
Rasim chuckled as they dipped into the liquor store and grabbed the Hennessey. “Yeah, aight. How he gonna look like me when she married that nigga? How you know it ain’t his kid?”
“Because lil youngin’ ‘bout five or six. And if I recall, that’s the same amount of years it’s been since you first fucked Selena.” He pointed a stiff finger into the center of Rasim’s chest. “Do the math, homie.” He stepped off and proceeded to the Funyuns aisle.
Rasim brushed him off because he knew it wasn’t his kid. Selena said she had a child with her husband. He didn’t want one but if he was a father, he would deal with it as best he could.
After buying the liquor, a large cup and a soda they were a block away from where they perched but before reaching Donald and Chance, Rasim said, “Hold this for a second.” He gave him the bag.
Always the jokester, Rasim poured all of the Hennessey into the cup and then poured the soda into the Hennessey bottle. Since his gag required three-part harmony, he poured all of the Hennessey from the cup into the soda bottle.
“I can’t believe you fucking up that nigga’s bottle,” Brooklyn said witnessing the ignorance.
“I ain’t fucking it up,” Rasim glowered. “It’s in here.” He raised the soda bottle.
“Yeah, but you got soda remnants mixed with his sauce and shit. You fucking up the flavor.”
Rasim waved him off and tossed the cup away.
“Alright, but when Donald cave your chest cavity in, don’t come crying to me.”
The friends headed back to the pumping area and Rasim handed Donald the soda dressed in a Hennessey bottle just as Phantom’s black Mercedes caressed the block.
Whenever he arrived, everybody, if they were fucking around, stopped. Everyone fell in line, along with Donald, Phantom was Rasim’s other idol. When he parked he rolled down the window and looked at Donald. His five o’clock shadow sparkled like black diamonds. And the gold chain he donned fell against his black sweater.
He motioned with his head for Donald to come and Donald moved without hesitation.
Donald slipped inside of the Benz and melted into the black leather seat. And from the half rolled down window, Rasim and the fellas could see it all. It was as if they were watching an episode of The Sopranos.
As Donald got comfortable, Phantom observed the young hustler before saying a word. Although he was certain that Donald had enough gall, confidence and spirit necessary to run the block, he wanted to steal a few more moments to make sure he hadn’t missed a thing. After he swept over him with prying eyes and was certain his decision to promote him was solid, he leaned back in his seat and the leather moaned. “What’s in the bag?”
Donald pointed at it and said, “Oh this? The brown.”
“You not gonna offer me a cup?”
Donald grinned and said, “Phantom, you can have anything you want. That’s on my life.”
Luckily for Donald, Phantom wasn’t into niggas because he’d likely be on all fours with an ass full of dick after that declaration.
As Rasim stole peeks into the Benz in lieu of straight gawking he noticed how giddy Donald appeared. Around the crew, he was always serious and dark. What was different now? He guessed in the presence of a God he was fumbling. Rasim wanted the type of power that Phantom possessed for himself.
Prepared for everything, Phantom dipped into his oversize armrest and released two plastic cups.
That’s when Rasim wanted to shit himself, knowing full well that he had the real Hennessey in the soda bottle in his hand.
“I’ve been observing you and decided to elevate your status,” Phantom announced. “You’re a hard worker and you’re always on the block and I like that about you.”
Neither had taken a sip of the soda yet and Rasim was grateful.
“But I’m gonna be watching how you operate too. It’s one thing to lead your flock when you’re on the same level. It’s an entirely different thing to rule on high.”
“I’m up for it,” Donald said looking directly into his eyes. His right leg shook rapidly because he wanted this so badly his dick was beginning to stiffen. “You can count on me, Phantom. I’m as hard as they come.”
Donald appreciated his vigor. “To prosperity,” Phantom said as he raised his cup in the air in preparation for a toast.
“To prosperity,” Donald responded in kind.
Their cups knocked together and the moment Phantom took a gulp he winced and spit into the cup. Then he rolled the window down further and tossed the cup out. “You gotta start drinking better shit, man.”
Donald took a sip too and tasted the drink. He tasted the sweetness of the soda. He immediately peered over at Rasim who was covered in guilt. “Yeah, you’re right,” Donald said under his breath.
“Aight, well let me collect this money. You do what you do. I’ll have Paul hit you up later with that pack.” Phantom dapped him up and Donald slipped out of the car.
As Phantom’s car vanished into thin air, Rasim was already preparing to cop a plea. “I’m sorry, man,” Rasim said shaking his head as Donald approached. “I didn’t know you were gonna share your shit with the boss.”
“I told you this nigga play too much,” Chance responded stuffing his hands in his jacket and shaking his head.
Instead of breaking his jaw like the old Donald would’ve, he embraced him and grabbed his other boys too. The four of them acted like excited football players who won the Super Bowl as opposed to the drug mongers they really were. They slapped each other on the backs and Donald even took to smooching Chance and Brooklyn’s heads. Donald didn’t have time to be mad. It was a celebration because he was essentially a made man.
After he separated from the herd, Donald looked at Rasim and jokingly said, “Now give me my drink before I really do break your jaw.”
Rasim handed him the drink and tried to hide his excitement. He wondered how Donald felt now that he was in charge and he wanted nothing more than to be in his shoes.
The fellas were just coming down off of their high when trouble stepped on the block in the form of Levi, Terry and Wayne. They were knuckleheads from a rival project up the block and Donald hated them niggas. The most ironic part was that they were on foot when they could’ve been killed on the spot. Their fearless act was to display their bravery, not their foolishness.
Levi’s story was straightforward. He used to own the very blocks Donald and his crew were pumping on but when he got locked up for a week, Donald swooped in and planted his flag and Levi had been salty ever since. That’s one of the reasons Phantom fucked with him. He admired how he roughed his real estate.
When Donald saw them getting closer, he knew what time it was. “Brooklyn, give me the dragon,” he said referring to his .45 tucked in the large bush a few feet over from where his crew rocked out.
Brooklyn quickly obeyed and Donald cocked it. Brooklyn grabbed his 9mm and handed Chance a revolver.
Now that the men were strapped, Donald looked back and saw Rasim who was hanging around frightened and unarmed. “Get out of here, Rasim! We’ll get up with you later.”
“You sure?” Rasim asked trying to sound noble.
“Bounce, nigga,” Donald roared. “This shit ain’t for you!”
Rasim was the funny man and neither Donald nor his other friends looked at him as anything different. Still, he felt bad leaving his boys but he also knew they were right. He was not a gangster so he left his soldiers on the battlefield and drove home.
****
Rasim was standing in the middle of the floor pacing in circles. After he spoke to Donald and found out that the niggas who came on the block didn’t want the heat and left without drama, he thought he would rest easy, go home and fuck Snow.
He was wrong.
His hand trembled as he held the phone to his ear. “Please help me,” he said in a robust voice. “My life is on the line!”
“But I don’t know where she is, Rasim,” Maureen said truthfully. “The only thing she told me was that she had to get away.”
“Did she leave a new number at least?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Because she’s not answering the phone.”
“We are her parents, Rasim. Of course she gave us a way to contact her but I’m not at liberty to give it to you.”
“Please, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he begged with his voice hitting soprano notes. Before he came home, he had to piss but now his body had forgotten all about it. “I made a mistake but I don’t deserve to have my girl taken over this shit. Please, I’m on my knees!”
“Son, I hear you and I know you love my daughter,” she said with more compassion than she originally felt when he first called, “but Snow is a fragile angel. She’s not meant for this world. She’s meant for a man who can protect her and keep her heart safe and you failed. Which is sad because she always referred to you as Superman. I guess it was all a lie. Goodbye, Rasim. Be well.”
Stupid old bitch!
Rasim threw his phone against the wall and it crashed and scattered to the floor. He dropped down, squatted and placed his hands over his face. His gut rolled and he felt like he was on the verge of throwing up.
There’s nothing worse than losing somebody you thought would always be there and now Rasim understood true pain.
When he was fucking around with them bitches, he honestly thought that Snow would never depart. If he believed that she would, he would have never overplayed his hand.
When he arrived home fully expecting to see her beautiful face, what he found was the empty side of her closet instead. After he kissed her kitty for hours straight the night before, he was certain that he’d done enough to reel her back in. Besides, she loved that shit. But Snow came to the conclusion that he wasn’t a good guardian of her heart, so she took the key back and bounced.
The first day turned into a week. The weeks turned into a month and Rasim was still hopeful that Snow would return. He even visited her school only to learn that she withdrew.
He decided to pay Mute Candy a visit and of course it didn’t end well. In her usual manner, she cursed him out but felt bad hours later when she remembered how hysterical he was. To repent, she went to his house and prepared enough food for Rasim to last a week and left. But her loyalty lay with Snow so that would be the extent of her help. She would not have done that but Snow took care of that man for over six years and she felt he needed a fair start.
Rasim couldn’t accept how much time had passed without holding Snow and making love to her. He always said she was his heart but now he understood it physically.
Before long, two months turned into seven and Rasim lost so much weight he was almost unrecognizable. Since he was already slim, Rod from uptown accused Rasim of hitting the pipe. The trouble was word got back to Donald and he repaid Rod for the slight with two shiny black eyes.
Although broken, Rasim would appear on the block every day but do nothing but bring his homies down. It’s a good thing Donald was in charge because he made certain that the crew picked up his slack. Nobody minded much. They all loved Rasim like a brother and they hated the pain he was in…again.
To make matters worse, he hadn’t spoken to his father, who also refused to let him see his mother. He was really alone. So he wrote him a letter apologizing for not being the son he wanted him to be and begged him once more to not involve himself with Al-Qaeda. He also begged him to reach out to him. Kamran never responded.
It was seven o’clock a.m. on a Tuesday morning when his cell phone rang. His home phone was turned off so he didn’t receive calls there. He reached for this phone, which was on the table next to the bed. “Hello,” he said in a low voice.
“Hey, sexy. It’s me. Selena.”
Rasim frowned. “Choke on a bag of dicks, bitch,” he said so calmly Selena wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.
She wouldn’t get a chance to ask either because he ended the call and tossed the bitch to the bed. Selena had single handedly caused him to lose Snow and he couldn’t stand the sound of her name or her voice any longer.
As he lay in bed, he focused on the ceiling. One hand rested on his thin chest and the other behind his head. After so much time, he finally came to the realization that Snow was gone.
Possibly forever.
He had to pull himself together and move on with his life or else he would fall deeper into despair. Although he would never forget Snow, his heart told him that if they were meant to be, she would come back but only if the time was right.
Rasim eased out of bed, stepped over his clothes and the dirty dishes that littered the floor. He made plans to come back later that night and clean up his room and life.
When he was done he showered, slipped on his clothes and hopped in his car. As he drove down the road, he was amazed at the sapphire colored sky. Not a cloud was present and in a way it matched his mood…peaceful, relaxed and calm.
When he parked on the block, Rasim sidled out of his car and dapped Donald, Brooklyn and Chance before sitting on the step.
“This for you, man.” Chance handed Rasim a cup of hot coffee.
Brooklyn tossed a white bag in Rasim’s lap. “That’s a glazed donut. We bought extras in case you wanted one and shit.”
Rasim nodded in appreciation of his amigos and they noticed something different. His features were softer and not as distressed and it was obvious that he had gone through the worst stage of the storm.
Donald placed a firm hand on his shoulder and said, “Welcome back, homie.”
With the sentiments of the heart out of the way, Donald decided to take the attention off his friend. “So Kelly was mad at me again today,” he said referring to his wife.
“What you do this time?” Rasim asked, contributing to the conversation. It was the first time he uttered a word outside of I need Snow in months.
“You know how women are. I wasn’t feeling good so she wanted to stay home from work to take care of me. I told her to go ‘head because sick or not, I was hitting the block.”
Brooklyn crossed his arms over his chest and jammed his hands under his armpits. “Hold up, you sick and you just shared a blunt with me a minute ago in the car?” he questioned, pointing at him.
“You ain’t gonna die, nigga. You can’t catch what I got anyway.”
“You said that shit the last time and I had the flu for a month,” Brooklyn continued. “It’s real foul that I eat right but I still get sick fucking with you nasty ass niggas.”
Rasim shook his head and peered up at Donald. He did seem ill but in his lovesick haze he never noticed before. “Do you know what’s wrong, slim?”
Donald kicked at nothing on the ground. “The doctor trying to say it’s cancer and shit but he can suck my dick.”
Rasim, Chance and Brooklyn surveyed him with wide eyes. Donald acted as if he had a cold and now they discovered it was something fatal.
Concerned, Rasim sat his coffee and bag on the ground and approached him. “When were you gonna tell us that shit?”
Donald waved it off. “I’m telling ya’ll now,” he responded as he looked over their heads at more of nothing. He was trying to stall and get off of the subject. “And please don’t start with me. I heard enough from my wife.” Donald wiped his hand from his forehead to the back of his scalp. His hands dropped down and he decided to keep shit genuine. “I just keep thinking about my girls, you know?” He looked at Rasim and then the fellas. “If I die, what’s gonna happen to them?”
“On my dick, your kids gonna be straight,” Brooklyn said shooting from the heart. He could’ve worded it a bit differently but they were hood niggas who loved deep.
“I feel the same,” Chance responded. “You’ll never have to worry about shit in the way of them girls. Believe that.”
Rasim stared directly into Donald’s eyes. “You already know my heart. As long as I got breath in my body, your girls gonna be raised like they mine.”
“Oh my God,” Trina from across the street yelled, crashing the somber mood. “We under attack!”
Now, Trina was known to be a little over the top at times but something told Rasim that this situation was different. So he jogged across the street and put his hands softly on her shoulders as he gaped at her. “What’s wrong with you?”
Trina’s red face was sweaty and she appeared to be hyperventilating as she looked up at the icy blue sky. “Bombs just hit the World Trade Center in New York! We under attack!”
Suddenly a few older busybodies rushed outside of the building too. This was odd because they never emptied their apartments until it was time to unload a cheap bottle of vodka and discuss the latest scandal on the front step.
Yet there they were, embracing each other as they muttered what Trina had just said. That the United States was under attack.
When Rasim looked behind him he saw Donald, Chance and Brooklyn trot toward the elderly ladies. Rasim felt as if things were moving in slow motion and he couldn’t hear a sound until Trina wiggled out of his grasp. He forgot that he was even holding her.
Rasim watched as the women said something to Donald to cause his face to distort. Whatever was communicated forced him backwards as he crashed to the ground like he missed his chair. Never down for long, he hopped up and sprinted toward his silver Infiniti, slid over the hood and jumped into the driver’s seat.
Rasim rushed over to Brooklyn and Chance to get the word but both of them were holding their heads while their mouths hung open.
“What’s wrong with Donald?” Rasim yelled.
Chance’s eyes flapped a few times as if he were trying to wake up from a horrible dream. When Rasim rocked him roughly, Chance finally said, “The World Trade Center towers were hit by two planes. And the Pentagon too.”
“So what’s wrong with Donald?” Rasim asked, unable to follow how Donald was directly related. If they were at war, everyone was in trouble not just him.
“His wife works at the Pentagon, man,” Brooklyn whispered.
Now it was clear.
Rasim whipped his head in the direction Donald moved. There was no way he was letting him drive alone in the frantic condition he was in. So he bolted across the street just as a DC Cab was speeding his way. Angry, Rasim slapped the hood once when it stopped, before he dipped toward the passenger seat of Donald’s car.
Rasim slipped inside and at first Donald’s eyes rolled around and he glared at him but Rasim didn’t care. He was going with him whether he wanted to or not. “I’m riding, man,” Rasim said as he watched tears roll down Donald’s face. “I can’t let you be out here by yourself.”
Donald, who was always the big bad bear, broke down in tears as he jerked his car into traffic. He recited repeatedly that he couldn’t lose his wife. That he would die without his family and be on some serial killer shit. Although Rasim was not married to Snow, he knew the pain of losing the one you loved.
When Rasim’s keys fell to the floor and he bent down to retrieve them, Donald stopped suddenly and held Rasim’s head down with a firm grip to the back of his neck. Rasim saw his life flash before his eyes.
Donald was about to kill him.
Seconds later, gunfire blasted into the car in all directions, moving the car with small thuds. Shards of glass bounced off the back of Rasim’s neck as Donald’s grip lessened.
Tires screeched and an engine revved up and Rasim knew what happened. His best friend was just murdered.
Slowly Rasim raised his head and Donald’s hand slid off of him. Broken glass clinked as it poured off of his body and bounced against the floor. He looked out ahead of him, through the shattered windshield, afraid of facing Donald just yet.
Donald had pushed Rasim down to save his life and because of it, he still breathed. He was a real nigga to the end.
His neck muscles tensed as he forced himself to rotate his head in Donald’s direction. It was more catastrophic than he thought. Rasim’s hands shook as he saw the condition they left the homie in. His skull was blasted open, which exposed the frontal lobe of his brain. His face was shredded and not one of his features remained.
If he hadn’t jumped inside of his car, he would’ve sworn the corpse to his left was not his man.
Heartbroken yet again, Rasim dragged his fingers down the sides of his face and howled.
****
Rasim spent an hour at the hospital saying the same thing repeatedly to the officers. That he had no clue who killed Donald Guzman. Of course it was bullshit and the detectives knew it too. But it was a street matter and was not in their department.
Eventually the interrogation ceased.
During that time, Rasim learned that Donald’s wife perished in the Pentagon attack. A large piece of debris struck her over the head, stealing her from her family in the process.
It was at that time that Rasim remembered that Donald’s twin daughters would probably be alone. So he picked them up from school.
As he drove down the road, he glanced at them in the backseat. He was amazed that with all of the calamity happening around them, they were totally unaware. Their pink book bags sat in their laps and he asked himself, where would he take the children?
He went to Donald’s parents’ house and told them about their son and daughter-in-law’s death. They were upset at the loss of their only child and shed two tears apiece. But they refused to accept their grandchildren. So with nothing left to do, he took them to his house.
After he made them hot dogs with no bread and French fries, he watched them play with their dolls on the sofa. He was delaying the inevitable. He had to tell the children that their parents were gone forever.
Rasim stuffed his hands into his pocket and looked down at Amber and Cassie with pity. He reduced his height and stood on his knees. At first they felt Uncle Rasim was being strange because he was silent and real close to them. They hoped he wouldn’t try to touch their private parts that their father told them to protect. But after awhile, he told them how their lives would be changed.
They cried long and hard and wrapped their little arms around his neck. Rasim held them tightly, one in each bicep and kissed their wet cheeks. When he was done, he called the cousin of the one person he knew could help.
Mute Candy got there in thirty minutes flat. The moment she laid eyes on the girls, who were as sweet as sugar cane, she knew she would do whatever she could to help them. Mute Candy had a place of her own and no children inside so she didn’t mind keeping them until they had a more suitable home. This made Rasim adore her even more.
He didn’t bother asking about Snow because it was the wrong place and time. Instead, he jumped in his car and drove to his parents’ house next.
Despite the terrorist attack, he wasn’t concerned that his father was involved because he called his mother earlier in the day and, although clearly upset, she said Kamran didn’t go and was at home. Apparently Kamran felt as if he betrayed his nation and Rasim felt worse when he discovered that it was due to the letter he had written.
Devastated, Rasim pulled up to the house and took a moment to slap the Kufi on his head. It seemed a bit ridiculous, all things considered, but it was a habit he couldn’t break.
When he tried to enter his parents’ house with the key, he was surprised to find it wasn’t working. Kamran changed the locks shortly after he forbade Rasim to come over and it was the first time he tried.
He approached the window in the back of the house. Hoping to enter from the basement, he was shocked to see Umar on her knees next to her husband who was hunched over. She was weeping and Rasim was trying to figure out what was happening. So he pressed his face against the window and Rasim saw his father’s head covered in blood.
What the fuck was going on?
His eyes widened and he banged on the window forcefully when he saw Umar pick up the gun that rested next to Kamran’s head. She looked at the window, smiled and said I love you before placing the barrel to her temple and tugging the trigger.
There was no way she was living in this world without her dear husband. So she bid the universe a goodbye.
It seemed like everything was in slow motion as he banged on the window so hard it fractured against his blows and his hand bled. Everything he loved about life died in that moment.
And he could never be the same if he tried.
****
The Next Day
Rasim stood in front of the mirror without a shirt. His body was scrawnier than it was before. You could clearly see his skeleton beneath his skin. With the death of his father and mother yesterday, he was starting to hate the people of his country even more. He blamed them for his father’s suicide and he hadn’t gotten a moment’s sleep.
As he reviewed his reflection in the mirror, he raised the large gray rock in his hand. Gripping it tightly, he slammed it against his right eye. The pain rippled from the front of his head and rushed to the back but he wasn’t done.
Blood sprayed from his upper and lower eyelid and splashed against the mirror. He slammed the rock into his head so many times his face was crimson.
Trying to dissociate himself from his own people, he was hoping to alter his appearance.
Before long, he felt lightheaded due to losing so much blood and he plummeted to the floor.