For some reason, I felt more restless than usual. I’d been pacing my bedroom like a caged animal for the last fifteen minutes, trying not to think about the three weeks remaining in my forced rehab.
My day had started out as usual: I woke up, completed my morning hygiene, and had breakfast in the dining room in front of my favorite window that offered the best view of a weeping willow tree. I attended a series of group therapies before lunch, met one-on-one with my therapist, and then enjoyed a few hours of free time before dinner. In my free time, I worked out, finished a 500-piece kitten puzzle Daisy gifted me, and trudged through 20 pages of a self-help divorce book Nori gave me that catered to men, then tossed it in the trash. I could tell from his word choices that the author was still bitter about the divorce, despite trying to convince readers he’d moved on and was living his best life, and that if I followed his simple ten steps, I too could be like him.
No, thanks, buddy.
After dinner and my evening shower, I’d finally cracked open the box Kieran gave me, and sure enough… it was porn. I rolled my eyes at the magazine on top with a scantily clad Black woman on the front with the title:Hot Ebony Stepsisters.
The sticky note from him said, “I know you’re into this kind of stuff.”
I immediately taped up the box and hid it in the back of my closet until I could dispose of it during move-out.
Regrettably, the magazine opened a can of worms that led me to daydream about the night Kiyah and I shared at the motel. The passion was unreal and uncontainable, like a surging river bursting through a dam, and I wanted to relive the night over and over again like I had been for the past five weeks. That night was the last good memory I had before rehab, and knowing I wouldn’t be able to experience that level of intimacy and attachment with Kiyah or anyone else, for that matter, was depressing.
Casey mentioned there were plenty of fish in the sea and suggested we go on a double date when I was released. Thelastthing on my mind was dating, or whatever the hell Casey considered dating. There was something seriously off with him—some deep-seated insecurities and detachment issues, if I had to guess. He tried to convince me to move on because Kiyah had done the same. He’d sent me screenshots of a photo of Kiyah, that creep, and his son at a campaign event, and if I weren’t repulsed by the sight of them together, I’d say they looked like a charming family unit. I responded by telling Casey he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. He scoffed and made up some excuse to get off the call.
I needed out. I missed my life, family, and freedom, but most of all, I knew I had to start making amends. I was welcome to invite my family to therapy, but I had to begin with Kiyah, and that wasn’t easy to do when I couldn’t get her on the phone.
She called this morning, but we’d barely gotten past the greeting when she was whisked away. She promised to call this evening, but it was 10:13, and I hadn’t heard a single peep from her.
“I should call her,” I mumbled, pulling up her contact information. I was about to make the call when my door crashed open. My father entered my room, started pulling open my dresser drawers, and tossed my clothes onto the bed.
“Dad? What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
At first, he didn’t answer and proceeded to tear apart my room. He appeared haggard and unkempt, and when he turned to face me, the subtle wrinkles in his face were etched deeply into his skin. His usual clear, green eyes were stained blood red.
Something’s seriously wrong. Please, God. Don’t let it be Kiyah. Don’t let it be anyone I love, but especially not Kiyah.
He snatched off his glasses and wiped the lenses furiously with the bottom of his t-shirt—something he did when he was beyond anxious and frustrated.
“Your sisters,” he mumbled.
My heart seized in my chest before kick-starting back to life in a violent staccato.
“What happened to Kiyah and Daisy?”
“No, Kiyah is fine as far as I know. Daisy and Nori were involved in a hate crime this evening.”
“Hate crime?” I asked in disbelief.
“They were leaving dinner and were attacked in the parking lot by some masked thugs, who hurled homophobic slurs at them. Daisy, she….” Sobs interrupted him, and without thinking, I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently.
“Get it together, Dad! What happened to Daisy?”
He gulped in a lungful of air before breaking the news. “Your sister fought off her assailant and retrieved her gun to protect Nori. Daisy shot him, but her attacker was also armed and shot her. She’s in surgery, but they-they don’t know if she’s going to make—”
He collapsed in my arms before he could finish his sentence, and I was too stunned to do anything else but hold him.
This can’t be fucking happening.
* * *
The drive to the hospital seemed to pass in a blur. One minute, Dad was discharging me from the rehab facility, and the next, I was driving down I-35, passing exit after exit with a severe case of tunnel vision. What felt like a ten-minute drive to me was forty, and for each agonizing minute, I wondered if my little sister would pull through. Losing Daisy would be cataclysmic, and our family would never be the same again. And poor Nori might never recover from losing her life partner.
I chastised myself for catastrophizing and told myself to think positively, but Dad didn’t give me much hope.
“Kiyah’s calling,” Dad mumbled as I parked in the hospital parking garage.
“Does she know?”