A Staten Island Love Letter- The Forgotten Borough

by Jahquel J.

  “I’m not spending this week doing this.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Arguing. What we’re doing right now. I came to work and kickback. I’m not trying to hear your mouth through the whole trip.”

  “Don’t piss me off then, Gyson.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Oh, I need some money to pay the designer. I met with the assistant and the need partial payment in order to book a in home consultation.”

  “Let me ask you something. Why are you so adamant about doing these three rooms over?”

  “You make the money and I make our house a home.”

  I decided to drop the subject because I didn’t feel like entering this circle of confusion when it came to Shakira. If doing the house kept her busy and quiet, then that was the small price I had to pay for a moment of silence.

  “I’ll make sure the money is in the home account when we get home,” I assured her. She looked at me and then turned her attention out the window.

  “Another thing.”

  “What now?”

  Her head snapped back in my direction, and she tossed her hair over her shoulders. “We need to talk about adding me onto your accounts. Don’t you think it’s time? I’m your fiancée and have two children with you. It’s time we stop having separate accounts, or using the home account. You barely keep three thousand in there.

  While she was venting on the jet, I watched her have a drink too many. That had to be the reason she was talking the bullshit she had just said. I would roll over and die before I added Shakira to any of my accounts. All the money that was in each of my accounts was there because of me. I didn’t get a loan, handout or none of that shit. I’d be damn if I allowed her to come in and spend all the money I worked so hard to accumulate.

  I worked hard as fuck to stack that money. Those accounts were the key to keeping me and my family straight. We would always be financially stable because of the investments I made. Plus, you always had to have an umbrella for a rainy day, and that’s what I had. Shakira had to be doing the crack I supplied if she thought I was going to give her access to my accounts. She couldn’t even have access to the girls’ trust funds. Even when I bought the mansion, I didn’t put her name on any of the papers. I owned that shit. I didn’t need to put it in my mama’s name either. I earned enough legal income to be able to afford a home like the one I currently resided in.

  “Why we even talking about this right now? It’s not a concern. You broke or something?”

  “No… My daddy jus—”

  Shakira was a daddy’s girl through and through. Whatever Joseph said, she took that shit to the bank. If he told her to do something, best believe she was going to make sure she did it. It was the main reason I limited her on how much I wanted her to know.

  Of course, her father wanted her to ask me to put her on my accounts. He wasn’t a fool and could sense that our business agreement was coming to an end. Ten years was a long and good run, except I didn’t share and now we needed to end this shit that we started all those years ago. My trucking company was transporting more weight than his dealership cars were. I can admit, when we first came up with this idea, it was genius and was something I needed to do – at the time. Now that I’m older, wiser and had a lot more green, I knew that Joseph was getting off like a fat cat. Soon as that nigga told me about limiting how much weight I could move per car, I knew something wasn’t right. It’s cool, he could move other dealer’s shit, but he better hope that they paid as well as I did.

  We arrived at my villa and Shakira ran through everything to be sure nothing was out of place. Two local women made sure the place was always upkept and nothing was ever wrong with it. Shakira was being extra as if we left money or jewels here or something. The driver placed our bags at the foyer of the villa, and I tipped him before he headed back out. Shakira came downstairs with a smile on her face. This woman could switch moods in a matter of seconds.

  “What’s the smile for?”

  “That view outside of our bedroom gets more beautiful each time we come,” she continued to smile. “I’m excited to sit out there and watch the sun set.”

  “Me too. That shit bring me hella peace. Ain’t no place like here.” Belize was such a beautiful country. Even in the small town that we were staying in, everything was so beautiful and untouched by the government. It was a hidden gem.

  “What are we going to do tonight?” I checked my phone and she sighed. “Business, right?”

  “See, you always think you know shit and you don’t. I need to run out, but I have a cook coming to make us dinner out on the beach.”

  “Seriously?” the smile returned to her face. “Don’t play with me, Gyson.”

  “I’m serious. Go soak in the tub and relax and get ready for tonight. I’m not going to be gone too long.”

  She nodded her head. “I will.” I watched as she switched over to me. “Be safe, baby.” She kissed me on the lips as I gripped her ass.

  “I’m always careful.” I kissed her again before heading out the door. “Oh, they have the key, so they’ll let themselves in. No need for you to get the gun out the safe and play hero,” I reminded her.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she giggled. “You know how paranoid I get when I’m in the house alone.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  I jumped in the jeep wrangler and headed to my farm a few miles down. We had been back and forth to Belize so much that I pretty much knew my way around this town. When I pulled up to the farm house that sat on acres of land, I killed the engine and hopped out. Pitzy, the farmer I trusted with making sure my crops and everything was handled came out the house. Pitzy was born and raised in Belize and spoke broken English. It wasn’t perfect English, but enough for me to know what he was talking about.

  “Boss, I didn’t know you come so soon,” he came out the house with a confused expression fixed upon his face.

  “Yeah, I didn’t know that my shipments would end up coming in late. What’s going on?” I bypassed him and walked into the house that I allowed him to live in. Not only did he get paid, but he also lived in this nice sized farm house and still couldn’t do his job correct.

  “Boss, you no understand. Storm came and mess all the crops up. I start fresh,” he motioned for me to follow him to the back door, which lead to all the land and crops we had growing.

  Usually the shit back there would look like a damn forest. Now it looked like he had just planted that shit and I was pissed. I understood a storm wasn’t something he could stop from happening, but his ass should have called me when it first happened instead of telling me after I already had popped up on his ass.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me when it first happened?”

  “I thought I could fix,” he countered.

  “Did you fix it?”

  “No, bu—”

  “Next time you think you want to play handy Mandy, do that shit on your own time.” I pointed my hand in his face. “Where the fuck is the greenhouse?”

  He motioned for me to follow him. We got on his golf cart and drove a few miles before we came to the greenhouse. It was five thousand square feet of that good poppy plant. I’m a nigga that had more than one plan. Plan A failed, so I always had plans B and C on standby. When I had this greenhouse built, it was for times like this. All my poppy plants in here were untouched.

  “I thought you say not to touch this?”

  “And I also said to call me when shit goes down. You didn’t listen to that did you?” he put his head down and I walked around and smiled. “Get this ready to be shipped to me in the next few weeks,” I demanded.

  “Yes, boss. I do that,” he started, and I could tell he was hesitating with telling me something. “I need to bring my brothers to help. I can’t do it all alone anymore,” he pointed to his chest.

  “What happened to your chest?”

  “Heart attack.”

  “Damn, man. This is why you should have been calling me an
d telling me shit. I could have had the help you needed.”

  “Me don’t like to accept help. My wife is angry with me, so I need help,” he explained.

  “Your brothers have helped out in the past and I trust them. Bring them on and make sure this gets done,” I explained to him as we rode back to the farm house.

  “Okay boss. I tell them.”

  I checked things out for a while before I headed back to my villa. When I made it back dinner was being cooked and I could hear Shakira singing to music upstairs. I made my way upstairs and found her strapping on a pair of pearl satin sandals with a heel on them. She turned around and noticed I was standing there.

  “You weren’t gone too long. Everything okay?”

  “Better than ever,” I lied. “You look beautiful. Then again, what did I expect, it’s Shakira Ricci.”

  She blushed and waved me off. “Stop. You know you make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world?”

  “I know I try. Didn’t know I actually made you feel that way. It’s hard to tell sometimes,” I replied being honest. It was hard to know if she felt beautiful. Every time I turned around, she had an appointment to get some shit done. I rarely saw her in her natural state and I honestly craved it.

  She smiled weakly. “I know at times I’m getting Botox or messing with my face, but you really do make me feel beautiful.”

  “That’s all I’m trying to do, baby,” I walked over to her and kissed her on the lips. Pulling back, I looked into her face and could tell that she was content. Me, her and this villa on the beach was all that she desired. Still, there was a piece of me that couldn’t ignore the fact that she was content with just the two of us without our children.

  Me and Shakira sat on the beach with a full spread between us. The chef spared no expense and time when he prepped and prepared all of this food. There was salt fish, beans, rice, Johnny cakes and all types of Belizean food. My mouth was watering before I could get the spoon into my mouth to taste it.

  “Why are you smacking like this is the best food ever?” Shakira questioned as she picked with her food. If Shakira had one complaint about Belize, it would be the food. She hated the food. While me and the girls fucked up our meals each time we visited, she always picked in her food and complained about the smallest shit.

  “Cause it is. You don’t taste it? All of this shit is fresh. Not raised in fish farms and shit, we eating organic and fresh food,” I continued to bust down the food that was in front of me.

  I could tell the more I ate, the more she grew irritated. What the fuck did she expect me to do? Not eat my food because she didn’t enjoy the shit? “Baby, you not even giving the food a chance.”

  “Are you kidding me? I give this nasty ass food a chance every time we come,” she spat, just as the chef came out of the villa with gravy sauce for the rice. “No offense,” she tossed over her shoulders.

  “A problem with the cuisine, madam?” he asked her.

  “It’s not my speed. No offense to you. Clearly my fiancé is enjoying it very much,” she mumbled.

  “I can fix you… uh what is that they call it… Burger and fries,” he offered.

  “That would be fine. No spices, please.”

  “No spices?” we both asked at the same time.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No madam, I’ll get right on that for you,” he smiled and headed back into the house. I was so thankful that Shakira didn’t cook. When she did, she made her specialty; bland ass pasta.

  “Now that I’ll finally go to bed without an empty stomach, let’s talk about us,” she turned her attitude she had a second ago off.

  “Ight. What about us?” I stuffed some cabbage into my mouth.

  “The wedding. I’m thinking we should do it soon.” I started choking to the point that she had to come around the table and pat my back. “I’m good,” I told her, and she returned to her seat.

  “What do you mean we should do it soon?”

  “Why wait? We’ve been together for years, why do that with an engagement?” she further explained, and I was still confused why we had to do it right now.

  “I get all that. Marriage is something you don’t jump into right away.”

  “Neither is getting on your knees and proposing to someone. When you propose to someone that means you’re ready to get married the next day. Of course, no one ever gets married the next day, but you know what I mean.”

  “I want to have my son first,” I tossed a monkey wrench into her plans. If she wanted to get married, then I wanted my son.

  “My parents will kill me if I have another baby out of wedlock. Do you know how pissed they were with Rain? Then, I had Summer right after. I can’t continue to disrespect my parents and myself like that. I wasn’t raised that way.”

  “Like I said, I want my son before I get married.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s just how I want shit done. You know I don’t give a damn about what your parents think. What goes on in my home is what goes on. Unless they splitting some bills with me, I don’t give a fuck about what they have to say.”

  “And what about your mother? She always has an opinion about everything.”

  “Speaking of my mama… stop that shit!” I demanded.

  Her eyes widened and she stared at me like I had lost my mind. “Stop what? Your mother doesn’t like me, Gyson.”

  “And she’s allowed not to like you. When it comes to respect, I give both of your parents that. Your mother hated the shit out of me, did I trip? Nah, I continued to treat her with respect. My mother is owed the same. You’re about to be my wife, you should be kissing the ground she walks on. You think you’re the only woman in America that doesn’t get along with their in laws?”

  “I’m sick of you always taking her side.” Tears fell down her cheeks. Shakira had her tears timed and would toss on the waterworks when she wasn’t getting her way.

  “Taking their side? Nah, I’m always taking your side and that shit is causing a strain in my relationship with my sister and mother. I’m not doing that shit anymore. You will give her the respect that she deserves. I should have been spoke up on this shit, but better late than never.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

  “Yo, you really dramatic as fuck. I’m telling you how it’s going to be. Another thing, the girls are going to start going to spend more tim—”

  “No, the fuck they’re not!” she hollered. “Those bitche-” she didn’t get to get the rest of her sentence out because I had my hand around her throat.

  “I ain’t never put my hands on you a day in my life, but don’t get the shit twisted. Call my mother or sister a bitch again and see if I won’t choke the shit out of you. From now on they’re spending time over there and whenever my mother wants them. You hear me?” She nodded her head and I released my grip from her neck. “And ain’t no fucking wedding happening until you get that shit down.” I walked back into the villa.

  My appetite was ruined and now all I wanted to do was lay down and watch TV. When I looked back, she was still sitting there sobbing loudly. I had allowed a lot of shit with Shakira, but that shit was about to come to an end. The respect she demanded when it came to her family, I gave. It wasn’t even that she demanded, I was raised that way and gave respect to my elders. When it came to mine, she didn’t give a fuck and spoke her disrespect so freely. If I got on my mom and Mirror to respect Shakira, then she needed to do the same thing too.

  We had only been in Belize for three days when we got the call from Shakira’s mother telling us about Summer. Summer had an asthma attack while playing at the park with her sister. Shakira’s mom tried to assure us that we didn’t need to come home, and I wasn’t hearing any of that shit. I grabbed our bags and was on the jet ready to take off in under an hour. When we finally did make it back home, Summer was back to her bubbly self. She had to do her breathing treatments a couple times a day. The doctor gave her the green light to go
back to school, but I wanted my baby to stay home a little while longer. Shakira played her role as the concerned mom for a few before she was back out doing her.

  I sat upstairs in the sitting room of our master suite with Summer laying on my chest. She was watching some dumb ass show while I was responding to emails regarding my other businesses. She could have gone to school, but I wasn’t about to send my baby while she was hurting. Rain refused to miss school, so I had Marisol drop her off before she ran errands for me.

  Priest and Marisol had come back from the Poconos the day after we got back from Belize. I didn’t understand the shit that Priest was doing. He had said he didn’t want anything more than fucking with Marisol, yet he took her up to the Poconos to spend time with him. The nigga was confused on what he wanted. If Marisol was smart, she would just use him for dick and not attach her feelings.

  “Laundry day,” Marisol sang as she walked into the bedroom. She held the wicker laundry basket in her hand as she walked further into the room. “Where’s Shakira’s laundry? She told me she wanted me to take her silk blouses to the dry cleaner because she doesn’t like how I clean them.”

  “She always has to be difficult. They’re in her closet.”

  “Thank you.” She went into Shakira’s closet and came back with the wicker basket filled. “How’s princess feeling?” she nodded to a now sleeping Summer.

  “I think she’s soaking up all the attention everyone is giving her,” I chuckled.

  “You’ve been in the house since you got back from Belize. You know you can leave her with me, I’ll make sure she’s taken care of,” she smiled.

  “She been going through this asthma shit since she was a child. Any time she has an attack I think about last year.”

  “I know, it freaks me out too. I pray for her and Rain so much so I know God would never allow that to happen,” she touched my shoulder. Last year Summer almost died from an asthma attack. Anytime she has one I get so fucking scared because almost losing my daughter felt like I almost lost myself. I could never understand how parents could lose a child and continue to live on. I only had a glimpse of almost losing one and I didn’t think I could go on.