Irving Street Reunion [Fiction]

Justin stood at a distance and took a long drag from a cigarette, watching his long-lost sister. The deserted corner of Irving Street seemed the best place to meet her without drawing attention to himself and their mama.

She looked a little different from the thin, malnourished teenage girl he remembered as a child. Her bag pack and a white shopping bag leaned on the wall on which was painted the name of the gang in charge of the area—C.BRA. Perhaps she would stay a few days and run back to her city life, leaving them to the dangers of their impoverished neighbourhood.

Well, it wouldn't be the first time. He scowled and took another drag, the smoke swirling out of his nose and mouth. His bloodshot eyes gleamed with unshed tears. He flicked the cigarette and stepped on it, alerting his eldest sister to his presence.

---

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Irene glanced back and stood quickly, her bright, brown eyes, a little wide from the shock of seeing her baby brother. After fourteen years. “Hey Justin,” she whispered, walking towards him.

“It's JC.”

“W-what?”

Justin's frown deepened. “It's JC. Folks here call me JC, not Justin.”

“Oh.” Irene nodded like she understood. “How's Mama?” Justin stared at her for a while, the silence growing uncomfortable between them. “Say something.”

“You'll see for yourself. But why now? Why are you here?”

“What do you mean ‘why am I here'? Mama has my number and I told her to always call when you both needed something—”

“We don't need anything from you!”

Irene was startled for a moment before a scowl replaced her calm demeanour. “Don't you dare to speak to me like that.”

“Look, Irene. I'll speak to you however I want to,” he said, spreading out his arms. “You're no longer in your fancy city. This right here is my neighbourhood, my domain. So I'll urge you to be careful what you say to me.”

Irene scoffed and shook her head. “I don't have time for this. Take me to Mama immediately. I'm taking her to a better hospital.”

“And if I say no?” Justin drew closer to his sister. Irene grabbed the front of his sweatshirt in a fist hold, surprising him. She bared her teeth at him. “At nineteen, I would think you'd have some sense in that head of yours but I see you're still a baby. If she dies, her death is on you!” She let go of his shirt and he stepped back, the crease revealing how tightly she held it.

Brother and sister stared at each other for a long moment before Justin pushed his hands into the pocket of his baggy jeans and began to swagger away. Irene picked up her bags and followed after him.

* * * * * *

Nothing much had improved on Irving Street. It was still unkempt, with dirt littering every corner, and every wall was inked with terrifying graffiti of beasts and names of the gangs in the neighbourhood. A few men formed small groups in front of houses and shops, watching and waiting. Some of them hailed Justin and he replied with two fingers raised, denoting a peace sign. Their response was a nod.

Irene followed quietly, avoiding the people's gaze. She hated that she was back to this slum but there was no other choice—her mother was dying of cancer. Her doctor had assured her of a spot on a clinical trial list, and she was willing to get her mother into it. Even if it meant returning to her birthplace, a place she detested.

Nothing had changed about their one-room apartment in the dilapidated three-storey building. Irene sighed deeply before entering. Justin smirked and waved his hand towards the bed in the dark, musty corner where their mother lay, the sound of her wheezing echoing in the room.

Irene knelt beside her, gently holding her frail hand. “Mama? It's me, Irene,” she whispered.

“Uh, she may not hear you. I gave her something for the pain,” Justin mumbled behind her. Irene knew what that meant and almost cried. Perhaps she had stayed away for too long. She wanted no part of this life and told her mother so fourteen years ago after Justin was born. Her mother begged her to stay. After six years, she packed her things and left for the city.

“Mama?” She shook her gently. Her mother groaned and slowly blinked her eyes open.

“My...baby,” Amara whispered, attempting to smile at the sight of her daughter. Irene sniffed, recalling she had always been the ‘baby’ until Justin came along, born from a narcissistic man who almost killed their mother if not for the intervention of neighbours.

“Yes, mama. I'm here to take you to the city with me. You'll get better treatment.”

Justin scoffed. “That will be a waste of time. She's getting better, I tell—”

“Shut up! Just be quiet.”

“Hey, hey…you're both my babies…no fighting please….” Amara broke into a fit of coughing, the sound jarring in their ears. Irene gently massaged her forearm to calm her. “I…. when?”

“Tonight, Mama. A car will come pick us up,” she paused and glanced at Justin, “all of us and take us to the airstrip where a chopper will be waiting.”

Justin chuckled. “Trying to bribe me with your fancy life? I'm staying right here on Irving Street.”

“Please....JC,” Amara pleaded and coughed some more.

* * * * * *

A few hours later as the chopper took off into the air, Amara sedated and strapped in comfortably on a stretcher, Irene mourned her brother and wished he didn't hate her so much.

Maybe someday, he would learn to let go of the hard feelings and try to understand her decisions. But for now, their mama's health was a priority.

What I See

A lady seated on a concrete slab in a deserted street corner, probably looking through her phone from her slightly bowed posture. She may be waiting for someone. Two bags I assume belong to her lean on a nearby wall painted with graffiti C.BRA

What I Feel

The lady is sad.

I hope you enjoyed reading this short story. It's my response to A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words contest. You may click on the link to participate.

Thank you for visiting my blog.

^{Image credit: @wakeupkitty}