A WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS
1147 Words
The sound of rushing cars and distant sirens filled the air as Leon walked the familiar path to his mother’s apartment in the Bronx. His hoodie shielded him from the cold February wind, but it couldn’t block out the thoughts racing in his head. His mother’s health had been deteriorating for months, and Kia’s message last night only confirmed what he already feared—things were getting worse.
He hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, not because he didn’t care, but because life had a way of pulling him in different directions. Between working at the bodega and dealing with the drunk clubgoers who got too rowdy at night, there was barely enough time to breathe, let alone visit. But excuses wouldn’t change reality.
As he reached the front door of the old brown-brick building, he took a deep breath. The metal doorknob was cold in his palm as he turned it and stepped inside. The hallway smelled of cooking oil, old wood, and a faint trace of cigarette smoke. The paint on the walls was chipped, and the floors creaked under his weight. Nothing had changed.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, stopping outside Apartment 4B. He knocked lightly before pushing the door open.
Kia was sitting at the small kitchen table, her dark eyes tired, her hair pulled into a messy bun. She was only 21, but the stress of taking care of their mother made her look older. She glanced up from her phone when Leon entered.
“You finally made it,” she said, her voice laced with exhaustion.
Leon sighed and pulled out a chair across from her. “I came as soon as I could.”
Kia studied him for a moment before shaking her head. “She’s in her room. Bad night. She barely slept.”
Leon nodded and stood, heading down the short hallway to his mother’s bedroom. The door was slightly open, and he could hear her breathing—slow, labored. He pushed the door open gently.
His mother, Gloria Richardson, was lying in bed, her frail frame barely visible under a pile of blankets. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, and the faint scent of menthol lingered in the air.
“Ma,” Leon said softly.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, she struggled to focus. When she finally saw him, a weak smile crossed her lips.
“My baby,” she murmured.
Leon sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. It was cold, thinner than he remembered. Guilt settled in his chest. He should’ve come sooner.
“How you feelin’?” he asked.
She chuckled weakly. “Like I been fightin’ with time and losin’.”
Leon forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You been takin’ your meds?”
Gloria hesitated before nodding, but Leon could tell she was lying.
“Ma—”
“I don’t like how they make me feel,” she interrupted. “All groggy, like I ain’t even here.”
Leon sighed. “But they help you, Ma.”
She waved a frail hand. “Ain’t no medicine gonna change what’s happenin’.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken. Leon knew she was right—diabetes had been eating away at her for years. The doctors warned them, but money was always tight, and hospital visits were expensive.
Gloria squeezed his hand. “I know you workin’ hard, Leon. But don’t forget to live, baby.”
Leon swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m doin’ what I gotta do.”
She gave him a knowing look. “You always do.”
A soft knock at the door made Leon turn. Kia peeked her head in. “I made some soup. You want some, Ma?”
Gloria smiled. “That’d be nice, baby.”
Leon stood. “I’ma help Kia in the kitchen. I’ll be back.”
As he walked back to the kitchen, he felt the weight pressing heavier on his shoulders.
---
A Crossroads
Later that evening, Leon stepped outside for some air. The cold breeze hit his face as he leaned against the railing of the apartment building’s front steps. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Darnell: “Slide thru. Got something to put some real paper in your pockets.”
Leon stared at the message, knowing exactly what Darnell meant. The streets always had money, but they didn’t hand it out for free. There was always a cost.
His mind drifted back to the past—back when he and Darnell were teenagers running around Harlem, doing things they had no business doing. Leon had escaped that life, but the temptation never fully disappeared.
His mother’s words echoed in his head. Don’t forget to live.
But how was he supposed to live when he was barely surviving?
The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. Kia stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “You okay?”
Leon slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.”
Kia studied him before stepping closer. “You ain’t thinkin’ about going back to that life, are you?”
Leon hesitated, but she caught it.
“Don’t do it, Leon,” she said, her voice firm. “I know things are hard, but you ain’t built for that anymore.”
Leon scoffed. “And what am I built for, Kia? Barely makin’ ends meet? Watching Ma get worse every day? You don’t think I wanna help more?”
Kia’s eyes softened. “You help more than you know. But not like that.”
Leon exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands together against the cold.
“I don’t got all the answers,” Kia admitted. “But I do know one thing—Ma ain’t ever gonna want you to throw away everything you worked for.”
Leon looked away, his jaw tight. He hated feeling powerless, but deep down, he knew Kia was right.
After a long silence, he finally spoke. “You need anything before I go?”
Kia shook her head. “Just promise me you’ll think before you do anything stupid.”
Leon forced a smirk. “I always think first.”
Kia rolled her eyes. “That ain’t as comforting as you think it is.”
Leon chuckled, then pulled her into a quick hug. “I’ma hit you up later.”
She nodded. “Be safe, Leon.”
As he walked away, his phone buzzed again. Another message from Darnell.
“You coming or what?”
Leon stared at the screen, his feet slowing.
This was it.
Another crossroad.
Easy money or the hard road?
His mother’s frail hand. His sister’s tired eyes. The weight of responsibility pressing down on him.
Leon took a deep breath.
And then, he made a choice.
- Writer
