Suds - Season 1 FINALE

[Did you miss getting all soapy with Suds?? SORRY I left you hanging for so long, but I'm pleased to announce that I finally wrapped up Season 1 with this uber long post. You might need a snack for this one...

Season Recap:
Leilah and Darien are beau and geau which makes Shantel a little nuts-o-crazo. Shantel's ex-beau Terrance has been duped by his ex-best friend Darien before, and now he's out for vengeance. Leilah's best friend Mira (and Shantel's soror) may or may not have contracted HIV from a 'personal friend.' And Leilah is the eldest of a struggling family including: 18 yr old sis in Chicago - Lalique, 16 yr old sis - Xeniyah (Zen), 15 yr old bro - Jack D. who has been in with the wrong crowd - 6 yr old twin bros, Ty and Tyler, and 2 yr old baby sis - Tutu. And to wrap the large package, mom is a heroin addict. Can we see why Leilah would rather not be bothered with Shantel's college games?

So, here's your soap fix, jump in :o) ]

~~

Jack D. stomped into the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

“What the heck is wrong with you,” Lalique spat. Her fingers twirled between Tutu’s soft hair, twisting and braiding her thick strands into two pig tails.

He stormed past her and into his room.
“Get out,” he screamed at the twins.
Ty and Tyler started; barely looking into Jack’s piercing eyes. They dropped their remote controls, and ran out of the room.

Jack locked the door behind them, and headed for the closet. The stomping sound from his Timberland boots was muffled by clothes littered across the aged hardwood floor as the music from the paused video game tinkered. Jack yanked open the sliding door forcing it off the hinge. He reached up to the back of the top shelf. His fingers grazed the edge of a box. He grabbed the edge, slowly pulling the unmarked box from the shelf.

Cradling the box in his hand, he backed down onto his twin sized bed. He glanced around the small room, making sure no one was on the twins’ bunk bed before he opened the lid. The bundled old t-shirt was wound into a lump. He carefully lifted it out and pushed the box aside. Jack glanced up at the door again to make sure it was locked, and then slowly unwound the material.

He swallowed hard when he saw the gun… his gun.
~~

Darien pushed open the student center door and stepped into the sunny afternoon. He shielded his eyes with a hand.

“Hey Darien.”He recognized the voice. “What’s up, Shantel?” His eyes squinted from the glare of the sun.

She smiled, sweetly, “That’s all I get? I don’t get a hug?”
“Uh…” He quickly tried to run through what she might be thinking.
“Darien,” she playfully scolded him. “I already know about you and Leilah, and I’m happy for you.”

Darien stared at her, confused by her sudden change of heart.
“Really, I am,” she grinned, “So, is everything going alright?”
“Uh yeah,” he answered. “Everything good with you?”
“Yes,” her eyes sparkled with delight. “I have so much to tell you, but I got to get to class. Maybe we can catch up later?” Shantel stepped forward and embraced him, tightly. “It’s so good to see you.”
He patted her back awkwardly and pulled away, glancing around for Leilah.

He noticed Shantel was still smiling, but the sweetness had turned sour and conniving.

~~

Jack folded his fingers around the handle, feeling the weight. Somehow it felt heavier with the bullets carefully lodged into place. The music from the video game grew louder. Jack glanced up at the frozen screen, and around the empty room. His fingers traced the gun, etching across the smooth and roughness.

He stood and aimed at the window, holding the gun sideways, his face rough and smooth like the gun. He rotated sideways, then vertically, held it with one hand, and then two. His hands felt heavy. Jack lowered the gun, staring at his reflection in the mirror. I ain’t nobody punk, he sneered, clenching his fist and fingering the trigger.

Jack stared at the reflection of his steely, hate-filled eyes in the window. Then, he saw his braids, the way they zig zagged, and draped down his neck. And he remembered what Darien said to him after church. “If you ever need anything, Lil D, no matter what it is, just hit me up.”

Jack D. pulled his phone from his pocket, and sat on the bed. He scrolled through the numbers until he found Darien’s number, and pressed the call button.
~~

Darien’s cell phone rang at the same time he was shoved into Shantel. The phone fell to the ground. Shantel braced him from falling.

“Terrance,” she yelled. “You don’t have any right. We are over.”
Darien regained his balance and turned to see Terrance charging toward him again.
“You messing with my girl again, chump?” Terrance snapped.
“Man, T, it ain’t even like that,” Darien corrected.
“Ain’t that what you said the last time when I caught you with Trina?” Terrance pushed Darien back again.
“I’m not about to do this with you T. I’m sorry about Trina, but I’m not on that. I swear I’m not messing with your girl.”

“That’s right,” Shantel screamed, rushing to Darien’s side. “I’m not your girl, and what we do is none of your business.”

Terrance’s anger flared and he charged at Darien, pushing Shantel out of the way.
Terrance swung.
Darien dodged and doubled back with jabs to Terrance’s ribs before weaving and connecting with his jaw.
The two traded blows, wrestling each other the ground.

Shantel smirked with satisfaction.

~~
No answer.

Jack flipped his phone shut and dropped it back into his pocket, leaning back on the bed. He wasn’t as angry as he was when he first heard the news. Jack rubbed his eyes, hoping to gouge out the image of his boy, Trayvon, getting jumped by twelve dudes.

Go visit him at the hospital.

Jack sat up and looked around the room. The door was locked. The TV was muted. But he heard the words playing in his mind. They weren’t his thoughts.

His cell phone rang, and he answered it before the second ring.

“Yo Darien ,” Jack answered, eagerly.
“Naw, it’s Mike. You ready?”
Jack winced, “Yeah.”
“Meet me at the spot and let’s go do this.”
“Alright.”

Jack closed his phone and looked at the gun. An image of Trayvon’s blackened eyes and swollen face flickered. He stood, and carefully slid the gun into the back of his pants, hiding it behind his shirt. He unlocked the bedroom door and walked out. He walked through the living, passing by his siblings with a scowl etched on his face.

Xeniyah rolled her eyes at him and said to the twins, “Ya’ll might as well go back in your room cause I’m not changing the channel.”
The boys hesitantly glanced up at Jack as he exited.

“Jacky,” Lalique called out before he closed the front door. His dark eyes settled on hers. “Please, don’t do anything stupid.”

His face hardened and he slammed the door.

Lalique smoothed Tutu’s hair into place.

~~
The loud, popping sound echoed through the house.
“Get down,” Lalique screamed covering Tutu’s body with her own. The twins huddled behind the love seat with Xeniyah.

More shots fired.
Tires squealed across the pavement.
And then it was silent.

Tutu cried.
Lalique clutched the toddler to her chest as she crawled across the room.
“Take her,” she said to Xeniyah.
“No, don’t leave me,” Tutu screamed.
“Baby, it’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

Tutu sobbed. Her shivering body huddled against Xeniyah’s hardening belly. The boys sat close, frozen, as they stared at the back of the chair.

Lalique crept across the floor to the window. The shots sounded close. She peered out of the blinds and saw that a crowd was already gathering. The late afternoon sun gleamed down on the shiny black hair of women who covered their mouths, screaming in shock. Guys rubbed their low cut fades, mumbling with wide eyes. They all kept glancing back and pointing at her house.

“No,” Lalique gasped as she jumped to her feet and ran out the front door.
Sirens blared in the distance.
Voices mumbled.
Wet eyes.
Blurry faces.
They all parted, clearing a path for her to see what she already knew.

Her eyes watered, raining down her cheeks as the final step confirmed what she feared the most. The shrill scream caught in her throat. She fell to her knees, and collapsed in a pool of her brother’s blood.

“Wake up, Jacky! Wake up!” She cradled his limp body, slapping his face.

Frantically, she listened for breathing, pressing her ear against his lips. “Jacky wake up! Somebody call an ambulance!” she yelled, oblivious to the cell phones already glued to ears in the crowd. “Jacky, NO!”

~~

Leilah gently smoothed through Mira’s silky hair. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“I’ll be fine,” Mira whispered. “Either way, I’ll be fine. Worse things could happen, right.”

Leilah’s cell phone rang. “It’s Lique,” she announced before answering.
“Hey Lique, can I call you back…”

Lalique yelled frantically into the phone. “What,” she gasped with disbelief, afraid of Lalique’s answer.

~~

“He got shot,” Lalique screamed through the phone at Leilah, “like a million times. There’s blood everywhere.”
“No cell phones,” the guy in white said to Lalique.
“Is he gonna make it?” Leilah asked.
“He’s not breathing.” Lalique rubbed her forehead.

“Miss,” the man in white said.
Lalique snapped. “Stop talking to me and make him breathe! Stop him from bleeding! Why you all up over here? I’m conscious, he not! Do your job!”
The man held her jittery eyes with calmness in his own. “Your cell phone makes it harder for me to help him.”

Lalique took a deep breath, and nodded. “I’ll call you when we get to the hospital.”
The calm, sad eyes thanked her, and returned their attention to her brother. Maybe, she thought. Maybe everything will be fine.

~~

Darien slid into his car, flexing his pulsating hand. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding. "I can't stand that girl," he yelled, wincing in pain and cupping his swollen jaw.

Calm down, he thought and took a deep breath.

The voice message reminder on his cell phone buzzed. He opened the phone and saw the missed call was from Jack.

~~

I wonder if this is what heaven looks like, Lalique thought as she stared down the long, white hallway.

His cell phone rang. She looked at it blankly, still covered in his blood.

“This is Darien. Can I talk to Jack?”
“Dead on arrival,” Lalique responded in a lifeless tone.
“What?”
“Dead. Shot. Gone. Never coming back.” She closed the phone and sat, staring at the long, white hallway.

[Suds is officially on break. Sadness makes me sad :o( I need time to recuperate. In the meantime, you can read Suds from the very beginning. I'll be editing previous posts during the break.]

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On her wall #3

~
She’s always crying, the bigger fly buzzed. All she does is sit in the house and cry.
Pathetic, if you ask me, the second fly twitched.

Sheba rolled over on the sofa, snuggling deeper into her fleece blanket.

You remember when she poured that whole bottle of vodka down the drain.
Yeah, the small fly snickered. You almost got sucked down the sink when trying to get a sip.
That was some good stuff, the big one remembered. She should have taken a swig instead of groveling on the floor and calling out to God.

Sheba whimpered from under the covers as she tightened her body into a ball, “Please God, please take the pain away.”

There she goes again, talking to God, the small fly said.
Come on, the big fly jumped off the wall and whizzed away shouting, let’s find something better to watch.
The smaller fly glanced over Sheba. Pathetic, it said again, and flit away.
~

Entry #2

~
Sheba rolled over in bed quickly, answering the phone on the first ring. Her eyes popped open in time to see a number she didn’t recognize.
“Hello,” she groaned.
“I’m sorry, She-b.” Her friend’s voice cracked between sobs.
“Crystal? What’s wrong?”
“I – just can’t – take this – no more,” Crystal gasped, bursting into another round of tears.
“Crystal, where are you?”
“I – don’t – know,” she heaved. “I just – left – and kept – walking.”
“Tell me what’s wrong, Crys?”
A heavy heart-wrenching cry screeched through the phone tearing Sheba from her bed. Stuffing her legs into her jeans, she demanded, “Tell me where you are, Crys. I’m coming to get you.”
~

Something New

~
Sheba stared at herself in the mirror. Tears crystallized on her lashes and poured down her cheeks. She bent over into the rushing water, splashing the tears away. Then titled her heavy head upward and looked into the narrow, red eyes. Why wasn’t she over this yet? Reaching over, she grabbed the towel hanging on the doorknob and buried her swollen eyes into the cotton comfort. Before she could lift her head, the pain etched on her heart forced out another round of the disgusting liquid. “Please make it stop, God,” she begged.
~

This is a story about Love. The real kind.

Me: God, I don't know what to write, or where to start.
Just write.

Mid 2002, weeks before my graduation from college, I was suicidal. I sat on my bed with two kitchen knives and eyes full of tears. I remember hearing my mom's pained voice crack through the phone urging me to just graduate and come home to her. That's when I knew I needed God.

I followed Mom's guidance and met God shortly after graduation at Mars Hill (the best church on the west side of Chicago -- personal opinion). That's where God started working on me, where he began to loosen my dependence on anything that was not Him. I see now that God separated me from many for the sole purpose of teaching me and watching me grow spiritually.

Me: There is so much to write, but I only wish to script what you wish.
Keep writing

My favorite thing about Mars Hill was digging into God's word. I have pages upon pages of notes in super cute notebooks :o) filled with spiritual insights. I would read my bible independently and actually understand. And for the first time, the voices of negativity in my mind were hushed. I'll never be good enough, smart enough, black (or Hispanic) enough, professional enough, sexy enough... The list went on and on. But God saw more than enough in me. God took his time teaching me, molding me, and making it clear to me that He accepted me.

Just write

One of my teenagers (been teaching teens about God since late 2005) mentioned to me innocently -- and I don't even think she realizes the significance of what she said to me. She said, "Your guy is like your Rico... the guy in the skit." See Lifehouse Everything Skit on the left. In the skit, the guy was pulling the girl away from God. I couldn't understand how my guy could be like that guy. This was the same guy I had been in love with since high school. The same guy who has "loved" and adored me forever.

There are two kinds of love (that I've learned so far). That which belongs to the world and that which comes from God. God is love. Real love is taught by God. God spent the last eight or so years of my life revealing facets of His love to me.
John 15:9 "...Now, remain in my love."

My guy spent that same amount of time "loving" me the way only the world can. The world's love is not for me because God has chosen me out of the world.
John 15:18-19

I've been trapped between these two kinds of love in an intense battle for at least the last year. Mostly because I thought the guy's love was connected to God's love. It wasn't. While I was trapped, I cried, I screamed at the guy, screamed at God. I prayed for the truth, but could never find it. Opened my bible and could not understand. Doubted God. Doubted Life. Doubted Love. Changed my definition of love to the world's. I've spent the past year chained in depression (being blessed all the while), but chained nonetheless.

Then suddenly, after months of being afraid to trust anyone, including God, I allowed my Father (heavenly) to move forward with His will for my life.

I closed my eyes and sought God with my heart.
Remember everything I have taught you, and lean on that.

I see clearly now. My heart hurts, but my God is bigger. God is love and love is described in 1 Corinthians 13.

Love 1 Cor. 13,
makeda
"All I am is a nobody telling somebody about Him." ~ Kierra 'Kiki' Sheard