I finished the wine in one swallow and poured another, then finished that too. I leaned against the counter, head in my hand. I had hoped, quietly and stupidly, that once her daddy was home, she'd soften again. That something would snap back into place. But she had seen too much. Heard too much. Paid attention when I thought she wasn't. She was my mirror, whether I liked it or not.
"Nia." His voice came from behind me, low, close. I straightened automatically. My back was to his chest. I hadn't even heard him come into the kitchen. He breathed me in beforeturning me around, hands firm on my waist. It was the first time in over a year that he looked me in my eyes. I saw everything we'd survived sitting there between us. I didn't think. I reached up and pulled his face to mine, kissed him like I was searching for proof or confirmation. For something solid I could hold onto.
He kissed me back, picking me up, making me wrap my legs around him. His lips moved in sync with mine as he carried me to the bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind us, letting me down. I dropped to my knees in an instant, his belt and briefs following quickly. His dick sprang out, brushing the side of my face, before I grabbed it, wrapping my hand around it. My mouth watered at the sight. Jules’s dick wasn't just long, it was thick and veiny. He tore my young ass up the first time we ever had sex, but he turned my young ass out, too.
I took his dick in the back of my throat, massaging his balls while I looked up at him. His head was throwed back and his big hands were gripping my short hair. I pulled back, letting the precum drip onto my lips before licking it off. I took him back in my mouth until he reached my throat. When he did, I started gurgling, making his moans and groans go rougher.
I tightened the suction in my mouth around him like I was sucking ice cream out of a straw. I felt him grip my hair tighter, pulling me back off him, making me release him with a popping noise. His hand switched around to my chin as he brought my face to his, kissing me deeply. I stepped back pulling my clothes off quick letting them fall to the floor. He pushed me back on the bed, staring at me as he pulled his shirt over his head. He moved toward the bed and hovered over me. Jules pent my arms above my head before circling my right nipple with his tongue. I watch him grab his dick with his free hand before stuffing it inside of me, making me shiver and moan out loudly.
He stroked in and out of me before speeding up his pace, pounding into me. He was so deep in me it damn near felt like my body was about to fold up. I stuck my tongue in his mouth as he continued to pick up his pace. He let go of my arms, letting me wrap them around him, pulling him into me deeper. In four deep strokes, I was shaking and humming, unable to hold myself together. I felt his body grow stiff, and he growled before latching onto my neck and releasing his nut inside me.
We lay there in that position, breathing heavy, for a couple of minutes before he flipped us over, where I was lying on his chest, and he pulled the cover up over us. After a few minutes, his snores started to fill the room. I curled closer to him, resting my head on his chest, listening to his breathing even out. His arm stayed around me, heavy and possessive in sleep.
I stared at the wall. This wasn't reassurance, nor was this a repair. It was a habit. Comfort. Memory pretending to be a connection. "I love you," I whispered anyway.
The words didn't land anywhere. They didn't come back to me.
They just disappeared.
JULES
I sat in the folding chair I'd pulled out of the trunk and set beside the tombstone, legs spread, elbows resting on my thighs. The chair sank a little into the ground, as if it knew this was where it belonged. I leaned my head back and blew smoke up toward the sky, watching it drift until it disappeared.
I'd been home three weeks. This was one of my stops. Twice a week, sometimes more if my head wouldn't quiet down. I came and sat with my baebby and let the world shut the fuck up for a while. No phones rung out here. It was just silence and dirt and time.
I leaned back again, smoke burning my chest on the way out. I was free, yeah. But my mind wasn't. That year inside had done something to me. I spent most of it trying not to lose my grip while I buried my daughter in my head over and over again. Some days, I blamed myself. Some days, I blamed God. Most days, I blamed her mama. That part wasn't going anywhere. It sat in me quietly, without moving or softening.
Truth was, I didn't know if I'd ever forgive Nia for it. Didn't know if forgiveness was even something I owed her. I carried that weight quiet and never said it out loud, because I never needed to. Grief didn't make me loud. It made me still. And when you get still long enough, you start noticing what didn't move no more.
Since I'd been home, we functioned like a family on paper. Same roof. Same kids. Same last name. Different house and atmosphere. Outside of the kids and fucking, me and Nia didn't have much to say to each other. No arguments. No big blowups. Just space, a whole lot of Intentional space.
I didn't miss her the way people talk about missing somebody. I didn't ache for her. Didn't dream about her. I damn sure didn't sit around wishing shit was different. I missed her like you miss something you already decided you ain't getting back. Like a limb you learned to work around.
I stood up, brushed dirt off the tombstone, and straightened the flowers that had started to lean. Bent down and pressed my lips to the cool stone, just once. I didn't talk to her. What was the point? I still fixed the flowers and made sure her name was clean. Like she might notice. I folded the chair and carried it back to the truck, tossed it in, then pulled out without looking back.
I headed toward Juste's place, the road familiar enough that I didn't have to think about where I was going. That helped. Thinking too much was dangerous these days.
Business hadn't skipped a beat while I was gone. It flowed like it was supposed to. That was part of the reason I didn't fight when those people came and got me. We didn't need eyes on us longer than necessary to make them wanna go digging and asking questions that led to answers nobody wanted. I ate those charges because that's what I was taught to do. Take the hit so everybody else don't bleed. I always knew my brother would find a way to loosen the knot. He always did.
When I pulled up to Juste's, I walked around back where him, Pierre, and Noles were posted up in the yard like they'd been waiting on me.
"Wassam?" Pierre said.
Noles nodded once.
"Wassam, budda?" Juste said, pulling me into a dap that lingered half a second longer than usual.
"Same shit, different smell," I muttered, grabbing a chair and sitting down. We sat there a minute, just listening to the sounds of the neighborhood. A car stereo is rattling with bass. Normal shit. Life was moving like it didn't give a damn what you'd been through.
"You remember we was talking about that family vacation before all that bullshit kicked off," Juste said. I nodded. "I booked the beach house out in Orlando. Figured we’d make it a road trip. Everybody drive they families. Leave next Friday." He looked at me when he said it. I sat still. On the surface, it sounded good. Too good. Family. Beach. Time away. The kind of shit people think fixes things. But I knew better.
My family wasn't built for shared spaces right now. We spent too much time in silence pretending. Turning it down would look strange, though. Like I was pulling back. Like, I didn't want to be seen. And I didn't, but I couldn't afford to show that. "Shit," I said finally. "I guess it's a go then." Juste nodded, satisfied.
I kept choosing what made sense instead of what felt right. I'd been doing it so long it felt natural. Like survival. Juste kept talking, laying out plans, moving pieces around like he always did. That nigga had vision, that much was true. He saw past whatever storm we was standing in and moved like the outcome was already decided. I respected that about him. Always had. Business was gon be straight regardless. That part never worried me.
After another couple of hours of chopping it up, I pulled off. The sky was already dark, the heat hanging low and thick likeit didn't feel like lifting. I rolled the window down just enough to let the air move, even though it didn't cool shit.
When I pulled into the yard, my headlights hit the front of the house, and I saw Nia standing in the kitchen window, shoulders tight, head angled down like she was washing dishes or wiping something that didn't really need wiping. I sat there a second longer than I should've, foot still on the brake, watching her move. I'd sat in this same spot plenty of nights before. Same view. Same window. Same woman. The only difference now was that the silence between us felt intentional.