Read Crazy In Love With A Thug: Bari and Seven for Free Online Page B
Authors: LaDonna Robinson
heard the clanging of pots and pans.
"I'm making breakfast. You're making dinner."
"What makes you think I'll be here at dinner time? I have to go home."
"To Trish's?"
"No, to my house."
"You can't live there by yourself. Those Child Protective people would be all over you."
"It's my house. I can live there if l want to."
I sounded more sure than I felt.
"Look Bari, I'm eighteen years old. I've been on my own since I was fifteen. It's not easy taking care of yourself."
"What do you think I've been doing for the past six months that I've been with Trish? Trish doesn't take care of me. It was like living alone. I was taking care of her, if anything."
"You have a job?"
"No. I've saved up every allowance my daddy ever gave me, except to buy birthday and Christmas presents. Other than that, my money went into my bank account. And my Big Mama and Paw-Paw always sent me money for my birthdays." He had a little smile on his face like I was an eight year old explaining how my ten dollars for mowing the lawn would feed a small African village. "I'm the one that paid for everything; Trish's hair, Trish's nails, Trish's clothes. That one almost broke me." I said.
He started laughing.
"Bari, if you're serious about being on your own, then make it happen."
"What do you mean?''
"Make it happen," he said, putting a plate in front of me that was piled high with scrambled eggs, ham, hash browns and toast. He set a glass of orange juice next to my plate then came and sat down at the table with me. "I was emancipated at the age of sixteen."
"You mean . . ."
"Yeah. See, my parents are really rich. They wanted kids at first, but when they decided we were old enough to leave home, they wanted us out. They gave us a lot of money. Like, they were paying us to leave their house. They loved us. They just didn't want the responsibility anymore. It was cool with me. My brother went through the same thing when he was sixteen. I liked it. I wanted to be on my own anyway. My parents bought me a house, kind of like a going away present. I lived in it until about a year ago when I bought this one. They come see me all the time. I call them. We're still a family. We just live apart. Do you understand?" I nodded.
For the next couple of hours I told Darshon my life story. I told him about Mama, Macy and Niecy, Big Mama, Paw-Paw, Marcie and Trish. I told him about Daddy's will, and the monthly payments that I would begin receiving immediately. I told him about the different properties, the businesses and the house.
"And then there's Trish. I'm afraid she might try to report me."
I told him about Trish's lawyer friend that said she would send me back to Mama.
"Why did you believe that bullshit? That ain't true. Those are your grandparents. You're old enough to decide who you want to live with. You're naïve, Bari. Maybe you're not ready to live on your own. You'd probably invite every homeless person you met to come home with you. You can't be like that here. This isn't Beverly Hills."
"I don't live in Beverly Hills."
"I know, Bari. I know," he said. "Let me ask you a question."
"Go ahead.''
"Why does it hurt you so much when people tease you about being dark?"
"Because it's true, I guess."
"There ain't nothing wrong with being dark. I'm dark. I love it. And I don't ever get no complaints. You have to learn to be comfortable in your own skin. You can't change your skin color. Only Michael Jackson can do that," he laughed. "Be happy with who you are. Besides, you know what they say, "The blacker the Bari. . ."
"The sweeter the juice," I finished for him. "My Big Mama taught me that."
"Yeah, but do you get it? The blacker the Bari? I just thought of that. The blacker the Bari," he repeated and started laughing, "That's cute."
"Darshon."
"Yeah?" He answered, snapping back to the present. "Will you help me?"
"Hell yeah, I'll help you. I'll even send you to a lawyer but only under one condition."
"What's that?"
"That you promise me you
"I'm making breakfast. You're making dinner."
"What makes you think I'll be here at dinner time? I have to go home."
"To Trish's?"
"No, to my house."
"You can't live there by yourself. Those Child Protective people would be all over you."
"It's my house. I can live there if l want to."
I sounded more sure than I felt.
"Look Bari, I'm eighteen years old. I've been on my own since I was fifteen. It's not easy taking care of yourself."
"What do you think I've been doing for the past six months that I've been with Trish? Trish doesn't take care of me. It was like living alone. I was taking care of her, if anything."
"You have a job?"
"No. I've saved up every allowance my daddy ever gave me, except to buy birthday and Christmas presents. Other than that, my money went into my bank account. And my Big Mama and Paw-Paw always sent me money for my birthdays." He had a little smile on his face like I was an eight year old explaining how my ten dollars for mowing the lawn would feed a small African village. "I'm the one that paid for everything; Trish's hair, Trish's nails, Trish's clothes. That one almost broke me." I said.
He started laughing.
"Bari, if you're serious about being on your own, then make it happen."
"What do you mean?''
"Make it happen," he said, putting a plate in front of me that was piled high with scrambled eggs, ham, hash browns and toast. He set a glass of orange juice next to my plate then came and sat down at the table with me. "I was emancipated at the age of sixteen."
"You mean . . ."
"Yeah. See, my parents are really rich. They wanted kids at first, but when they decided we were old enough to leave home, they wanted us out. They gave us a lot of money. Like, they were paying us to leave their house. They loved us. They just didn't want the responsibility anymore. It was cool with me. My brother went through the same thing when he was sixteen. I liked it. I wanted to be on my own anyway. My parents bought me a house, kind of like a going away present. I lived in it until about a year ago when I bought this one. They come see me all the time. I call them. We're still a family. We just live apart. Do you understand?" I nodded.
For the next couple of hours I told Darshon my life story. I told him about Mama, Macy and Niecy, Big Mama, Paw-Paw, Marcie and Trish. I told him about Daddy's will, and the monthly payments that I would begin receiving immediately. I told him about the different properties, the businesses and the house.
"And then there's Trish. I'm afraid she might try to report me."
I told him about Trish's lawyer friend that said she would send me back to Mama.
"Why did you believe that bullshit? That ain't true. Those are your grandparents. You're old enough to decide who you want to live with. You're naïve, Bari. Maybe you're not ready to live on your own. You'd probably invite every homeless person you met to come home with you. You can't be like that here. This isn't Beverly Hills."
"I don't live in Beverly Hills."
"I know, Bari. I know," he said. "Let me ask you a question."
"Go ahead.''
"Why does it hurt you so much when people tease you about being dark?"
"Because it's true, I guess."
"There ain't nothing wrong with being dark. I'm dark. I love it. And I don't ever get no complaints. You have to learn to be comfortable in your own skin. You can't change your skin color. Only Michael Jackson can do that," he laughed. "Be happy with who you are. Besides, you know what they say, "The blacker the Bari. . ."
"The sweeter the juice," I finished for him. "My Big Mama taught me that."
"Yeah, but do you get it? The blacker the Bari? I just thought of that. The blacker the Bari," he repeated and started laughing, "That's cute."
"Darshon."
"Yeah?" He answered, snapping back to the present. "Will you help me?"
"Hell yeah, I'll help you. I'll even send you to a lawyer but only under one condition."
"What's that?"
"That you promise me you