Page 175 of K.I.N.: Karma Is Near
She stared at me.
“I’m serious. I’ll call you down so you can leave.”
“So I’m sneaking out now?”
“You ain’t sneaking. I’m telling your ass to go upstairs.”
“That’s sneaking, nigga.”
The doorbell rang again.
“Kiana.”
She rolled her eyes, grabbed her clothes and headed upstairs.
“Asshole.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I slid my boxers back on, pulled my sweats up and left my white wife beater on.
By the time I got to the front door, the bell rang a third time.
“Impatient-ass nigga.”
I opened it.
Henry stood there with a black duffel bag over his shoulder.
Cheryl stood beside him.
My son was seventeen now.
That shit still fucked with me sometimes.
He was ten when I went away.
Ten.
Little skinny nigga with big feet and a squeaky-ass voice.
Now he was damn near looking me eye to eye.
Tall like me.
Shoulders starting to fill out.
Little hair growing around his chin that he clearly thought qualified as a beard.
Deep-ass voice.
Turning eighteen in a week.
Applying for colleges.
A young man.
And I had missed damn near everything between ten and seventeen.
