"I don't know," I finally said. She didn't push. That's what I liked about her. She let silence do its job. We ended therapy on that note and she left me with that question.
When I walked out into the parking lot, the sun felt brighter than usual. I sat in my car for a second before starting it. I didn't turn the radio on. I just let the engine hum and thought about the way my chest felt. When I finally did pull off, I headed in the direction of Julise's school. She'd missed out on the aquarium trip, but I wouldn't let her keep ignoring me. Ignoring me felt too easy for her lately, she was comfortable with it.
I parked and looked myself over in the rearview mirror before stepping out the car. I adjusted my lip gloss. Smoothed my short cut down once with my palm. I went inside the school, signed her out, and waited for her out front. Kids poured out of the building in waves. Backpacks swinging. Laughter bouncing off the concrete. Julise came through the double doors slow, eyes scanning the parking lot until they landed on me. She frowned slightly. "What's going on?" she questioned, adjusting the strap on her bag.
"Nothing. Come on," I said, turning to walk toward the car. She didn't argue. That surprised me. Once she was inside, I pulled away from the school and headed in the direction of the nail salon without giving her an explanation.
When I pulled in the parking lot, she sat there for a minute staring at the building. "Come on," I said, grabbing my purse and getting out of the car. She hesitated before opening her door. "Why we here?"
"Because you and me need to sit still somewhere," I said. She responded with silence. Inside, the salon smelled like acetone and lavender oil. The hum of nail drills filled the air. Women talking low in different corners. Soft R&B playing in the background. We signed in and took two chairs next to each other. Julise crossed her arms at first. Shoulders tight. Jaw set. I watched her from the corner of my eye. She looked so much like me when I was her age it made my chest ache. Same stubborn chin. Same guarded eyes. Same habit of pretending not to care when she cared the most. "You ain't have to pick me up," she muttered.
"I know," I replied. The nail tech started filling the tub with warm water. Bubbles rising slow, stacking on top of each other before breaking apart. The sound was soft. Steady. The kind of background noise that makes it easier to say things you been holding. "How things been at school?" I asked her.
She didn't look at me at first. She watched the water climb up around her ankles. "Considering that you and daddy took away everything that isn't a notebook or pencil, and it's all I have to focus on, it going okay," she said smartly. Her tone had edge to it. Not loud or disrespectful. Just sharp enough to test me.
"You know what you did to get your stuff took," I glanced over at her. "I know your work is good, that's not what I was talking about." I rolled my eyes before glancing over at her. I was referring to the situation that happened a while back with Chiana and Juste's boys. She knew exactly what I was talking about. She was just being smart. That's how she coped when shedidn't want to dig into something. The situation still sat with me heavier than I let on. Not because of embarrassment. Not because of what people said. But because I knew behavior like that usually grow from somewhere. And I had been too wrapped up in surviving my own grief to ask her where hers was landing.
She shifted in the chair. "It's fine," she answered, turning her attention away from me.
"I heard that," I mumbled. Fine meant she was holding something and don't trust me with it. "You ready to talk to me about what's been going on with you?" I questioned, leaning back into the chair.
"Really Ma?" She said, smacking her lips.
"Yes really, Julise. It's clear you have things you need to get off your chest. This is your chance to do that. I'm all ears." I didn't soften it with a smile. I didn't threaten her either. I just looked at her. For a minute she didn't say anything, and I wondered if she would be honest about how she felt. She stared down at the water like she was trying to find her reflection in it. Little did I know her ass was about to be overly honest with me.
"I just feel like all of this is your fault. “The words landed without warning. She breathed it out like it had been sitting heavy on her ribs. "That didn't have to happen to Juliana, Ma. Why would you ruin our family like that?" She threw her head back to keep from crying. My chest tightened so fast it felt like my body forgot how to breathe, because deep down I had said it to myself too. “I just want everything to go back to normal, and it just sucks because I know it won't. I don't wanna get used to this new life, Ma." Her voice cracked on that last part. The nail tech paused for half a second before continuing like she ain't hear nothing.
The first instinct in me was to correct her. To tell her I didn't ruin nothing. To remind her that grown folks make grown decisions. That tragedy don't belong to one person. But that would've been about me. This moment wasn't. I let the words sit. I let her feel heard even if what she said was wrong. Because under that accusation was Fear.
"You think I ruined our family?" I asked gently.
She nodded, wiping at her cheek quick like she was embarrassed by the tears. "You changed," she said. "After... after she—" She couldn't finish. Neither could I. Juliana's name still felt like a stone in my mouth some days.
"I had to change," I said quietly.
"Why?" she shot back. "Why you couldn't just be the same?"
I looked down at the water. Watched the bubbles break. Because I died too. That's what I wanted to say. But I didn't. "You think I wanted to change?" I asked instead. She didn't answer. "I was trying to survive, and sometimes when you’re trying to survive, you don’t get to be soft. You don’t get to be the same." I said. There it was. The truth. She looked at me, confused. "I was trying to survive losing my child," I said. "And sometimes when you trying to survive, you don't look the same as you did before."
Her face softened a little. "You stopped laughing," she whispered. That one pierced deeper than the first accusation.
"I know," I admitted. The words came out softer than I expected. Not defensive or heavy. Just honest.
"You just stopped," she whispered. "Everything just stopped, and our world was just upside down in the snap of a finger." She swallowed. "It's just a lot to deal with, Ma. I thought at least when Daddy came home things would go back the same a little bit, but things seemed to get worse." The nail tech kept painting her toes like she couldn't hear a thing, but I knew she could. Women in salons always hear everything. They just learn how to mind their business.
"Worse?" I questioned, focusing my attention on her.
"You and Daddy don't even talk, or look at each other." She rolled her eyes, but it wasn't dramatic. It was tired. "All the kids in the family know y'all about to get a divorce. I don't know why y'all trying to hide it from us." The word divorce hung between us like a threat nobody wanted to claim.
"Nobody said anything about getting a divorce," I looked at her. All of these kids got Evie's messy ass genes sitting up talking in my damn business.
"Nobody had to say anything. You can see it," she said. "I just wish if y'all was gon split up, y'all would go ahead and do it already. Dragging it out is only making things worse for everybody." There was no disrespect in her tone. Just exhaustion of a child tired of living in the middle of something she can't name but can feel. I leaned back into the chair and let out a slow breath. I could've told her she was wrong and shut the whole thing down. But that would've been me trying to control how this looked instead of acknowledging how it felt.
"You want us to split up?" I asked gently.
She blinked like she didn't expect that question. "I don't know," she said after a second. "I just don't like feeling like I'mwaiting on something bad to happen." I looked at Julise sitting there in that nail salon chair, her jaw tight, her eyes glassy but trying not to be. She was angry, yes. But underneath that anger was fear. And underneath that fear was love.
"Listen, Julise," I said, my voice even. "You have every right to feel the way that you do. I want you to know that no matter what happens between me and your daddy, it'll never change how we love you or your brother and sister. That will forever remain constant." I didn't blink when I said it. I wasn't trying to overpromise anything else. "I want you to know that you can come to me and talk to me about anything," I continued. "No matter what it is. No matter how bad it is." She studied me like she was testing if that was real or just something mamas said to make kids feel better. "I need you to stop with the stunts you pulling, Julise," I added, my tone still calm but firmer now. "You wasn't raised like that, and you better than that. I don't want that name or that life for you. You hear me?" She wiped tears away quick like she didn't want to be caught crying. She nodded.