Shawty
“Mischa, if you rap the word shawty one more time, I’m unsubscribing from your YouTube channel,” Talia joked, and Mischa sighed.
He was infinitely happy to have found a friend like her. His YouTube channel started out as a way for him to vent his anger, post the raps he wrote when he really started feeling the rage, but it had turned into the place he’d found the most meaningful connection he had. Even though she was so far away, Talia was the person Mischa felt closest to. She was the only one he knew who understood him, in every sense of the word.
They called every night and spoke in Ukrainian, their native language. Talia understood English, but she knew Mischa missed his first language since he moved to Canada, so she never spoke to him in anything but Ukrainian.
Talia was like the sister Mischa had never had. She kept him in line, criticised him when he needed it, helped him better himself. Just because the relationship wasn’t romantic didn’t make it any less meaningful. In fact, it was more so. They always made time for each other, and they swore that one day, they would finally meet.
“Shawty’s a dope word, Talia,” Mischa told her. “You just don’t understand my awesome rap game.”
“You used it nineteen times in a three minutes song, Mischa,” Talia pointed out. Mischa was surprised she’d counted. “I get that you might not know that many words in English, but-“
“I know English just fine!” Mischa stated, getting immediately defensive. He heard Talia laugh from the other end of the line, obviously getting the reaction she expected. “Fine. If I’m not allowed to say shawty, what else do I say? How else do I rap about money and girls in autotune?”
“You can cut the autotune too,” she suggested, which was just ridiculous, honestly. How was he supposed to rap angrily WITHOUT autotune?
“Hey, autotune will never die!” Mischa insisted, and he heard Talia laugh harder.
“I’m just saying!” She defended. “You have a good enough voice without it. And maybe try a rap without using terms like bitch or shawty? How about you use girl or woman?”
“I do use those,” Mischa reminded her. “But bitches and shawty are rap terms that badass rappers use in America.”
“You’re not in America,” Talia reminded him, like he didn’t already know.
If he wasn’t planning on moving back to Ukraine to be Talia’s roommate one day, maybe he’d move to America. The rap game there was lit, unlike in Canada. Although, there was a pretty good chance Mischa was already the best rapper in Canada. Definitely the best in all of northeastern Saskatchewan. And he’d break into the rest of the world eventually. They just weren’t ready for him yet.
“You could rap about a guy, if you want?” Talia suggested. She was the only person Mischa had told about his bisexuality, and for that reason, he turned down her idea immediately.
“Being bisexual does not fit my gangsta persona,” Mischa explained. “It’s not the badegg brand.”
“Aren’t you the badegg brand?” Talia questioned.
“You know what I mean,” Mischa stated, and he heard Talia sigh on the other end of the phone.
“I’ll tell you what,” She started. “How about you send me the next lot of lyrics you write and I’ll edit them for you?”
“Really?” Mischa asked, immediately excited. Talia was his favourite person, and rapping was his favourite hobby, so working on a rap with her would be amazing. “You’d do that?”
“Don’t sound so surprised!” Talia laughed. “I want to help you! Why wouldn’t I?”
She was right. Talia was endlessly helpful and supportive, and her constructive criticism made his rap game so much stronger. And basically tripled his subscriber count. Without her, he might only be the third best rapper in northeastern Saskatchewan. Lil Beaver and DJ Maple might still be doing better, and that would be tragic. They barely even used autotune. What kind of rapper doesn’t use autotune?
Then, Mischa had an idea. An amazing idea.
“Would you rap with me?” Mischa asked. “Please? You could be a featured artist on my next song!”
“I don’t rap, Mischa,” Talia said, but it was a lie. She might not have a rap channel, like Mischa did, but she COULD rap. Mischa had heard her, when they were joking around on their calls. She was good at rhyming and had great flow and could spit bars like nobody’s business.
“You’re a great rapper!” Mischa insisted. “We could make you a channel! We could be a rap duo!”
“Do I get a say in this?” Talia asked, but she sounded happy.
“Yes, but you could be a great rapper!” Mischa pressed. “And your flow is dope, please at least agree to do one rap with me? You can write it if you want!”
“Fine. ONE rap,” Talia agreed. “And we’ll write it together, tomorrow. Okay?”
“Yes! Yes! That’s okay! That’s great!” Mischa cheered, more excited than he’d expected to be. He’d never written a rap with anyone else, and never rapped with anyone. He was always a solo act, but this was so much better. Maybe Talia could help him channel something other than rage into his rap. “I can’t wait! It’s going to be mad wicked awesome!”
“If I’d have known you’d get this excited, I’d have suggested it ages ago!” Talia stated from the other side of the phone.
“You should!” Mischa said. “Next time I’m miserable we could rap together!”
“And what about when I’m miserable?” Talia asked. “Will you sing with me?”
“Badegg doesn’t sing,” Mischa insisted.
“But does Mischa?” Talia pressed, and he thought about it.
He did used to sing back in Ukraine, and he did like it. Plus, with Talia, he could sing in his native language again, which he hadn’t done in a long, long time.
And no one but her would hear it anyway… so if it convinced her to rap with him… where was the harm?
“Fine,” Mischa gave in. “I’ll sing with you if you rap with me. But you have to rap in English, for my YouTube.”
“And you have to sing in Ukrainian,” Talia bargained. “For my entertainment.”
“That works,” Mischa agreed. “You have yourself a deal.”
“And no autotune,” she insisted, and Mischa groaned.
“Why do you hate timeless music?” He complained.
“Why’re you obsessed with sounding like a robot?” She retaliated. “I want to hear your actual voice, preferably doing something other than complaining.”
“What if I can’t sing?” Mischa asked, though he knew that was null and void. He could sing, and he knew it.
“Then I’ll be amused,” Talia insisted. “You’re not getting out of this that easy, Mischa. Anyway, I have to go, but I’ll text you. Okay?”
“Alright,” Mischa sighed. That was his least favourite thing about their calls. They always have to end.
When he talked to Talia, it was easier for Mischa to forget that he was alone in a strange country. Still, at least they could text.
“You’d better text me, Talia,” Mischa told her.
“I will!” She responded. “What would you do without me?”
And then she hung up the phone, and Mischa pondered the question.
What would he do without her?