I never said her name out loud anymore.
Saying it made things real. Made it permanent.
Fatherhood from behind bars teaches you something quick; you don't get to control the story no more. You just hope the parts you left behind don't rot while you're gone.
NIA
Boosie'sLove Your Familyblasted through the speakers of the beach house, the bass thumping low against the cabinets while Evie danced around the kitchen like she didn't have a care in the world. She always cooked like that. Music loud. Hips swaying. Grease popping in the skillet like applause. Like life hadn't ever put its hands on her throat.
We'd arrived in Orlando late yesterday afternoon, just before sunset. Everybody dragging coolers and bags in, kids arguing over rooms, and men carrying things they didn't have to just to feel useful. By the time we got settled, it was dark and heavy outside, the beach air that stuck to your skin even after a shower.
Everybody else slept like babies. I barely slept at all. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind started counting. Kids. Doors locked. Stove off. Jules breathing beside me but not reaching for me. Three weeks he had been home, and he still slept like a guest. So around four, I slid out of the bed, careful not to wake him, and came downstairs.
The house was different in the early morning. Quiet but alive. Wood floors popping. Air conditioner humming. Waves somewhere in the distance, soft and steady like somebody breathing deep. I sat at the kitchen island for a while doing nothing. Just staring at my hands like they belonged to somebody else.
Evie came down not long after, robe tied tight, scarf on her head, already moving like she had a list in her mind. "Get out your head and get over here and crack these eggs," she said, not even looking at me. Like she already knew where my mindhad been. I smiled without meaning to, then walked around the counter and grabbed the carton.
"Yes, ma'am," I muttered. Eggshells cracked one by one against the bowl. The sound was soft. Familiar. Something I could control. She slid bacon onto a pan, grease sizzling loud enough to fill the room.
"I take it your house still ain't become a home again, huh?" she asked casually, like she was talking about the weather.
I kept my eyes on the eggs. "What make you say that?"
She snorted. "'Cause you on vacation and you been sittin' down here since four a.m. instead of somewhere snorin'," she said, glancing over at me. "And that lil' hot-ass daughter of y'all’s been up on the phone all night tellin' all your damn business to her lil friends."
My hands paused mid-crack. “What?"
She gave me that look. The one mamas give when they knew for a fact what they were talking about. "Mmhmm," she hummed. "Whole life story."
I swallowed and went back to cracking eggs like the yolks needed my full attention. "I'm real sick of that damn girl," I said, softer than I meant to. "I thought her daddy being home would change her attitude, but that was wishful thinking."
Evie slid the bacon into the oven. "She needs a good ass-whoopin', is what she needs," she said, nostrils flaring. I almost laughed. But something in me tightened instead. Julise didn't need a whooping. She needed answers I didn't have. She looked at me like she could see straight through me now. Like every time I opened my mouth, she was measuring what I wasn't saying. Kids notice everything when you think they don't.Especially daughters. I stirred the eggs slow, watching the yellow swirl together. "She just... different now," I said.
Evie didn't answer right away. She just turned the stove down, the burner clicking softer under the skillet. "Different or grown and showin' her ass to be the center of attention?" she asked. "That girl doin' that shit 'cause she testin' the waters and y'all lettin' her get away with it." She said it plainly. No sugar. No pause.
I sat there thinking about what she said, the eggs already scrambled, my hands resting useless in my lap. It landed heavier than I expected, not because she was wrong but because she wasn't. Julise wasn't just acting out, she was asking the same questions I used to ask, just louder. She was pushing. Seeing what would move if she leaned on it hard enough. And it hit me then, clearly and uncomfortably, that she was doing to me exactly what I'd done to my parents around her age. Slamming doors. Talking back. Wanting to be seen without knowing how to ask for it. Wanting control in a house that felt like it was slipping out from under her. Back then, I'd told myself I was just grown early. Truth was, I was running. Things not being enough at home had been fuel. A reason. An excuse. Julise was finding hers now.
The smell of bacon thickened in the kitchen, grease popping louder as the morning rolled forward, whether I was ready for it or not. One by one, footsteps hit the stairs. Doors opened. Voices rose. Life came back into the house unbothered by whatever weight I was carrying. We moved around each other easily, conversation flowing, joking, laughing. Kids piled into the living room, arguing over the TV. Somebody spilled juice. Somebody yelled somebody else's name too loud. Strangely, Itook in the Normal noise and familiar chaos. All of it made it easier to pretend everything was fine.
"Where you and Saint takin' the kids today?" Chiana asked Evie as we started gathering plates, lining them up across the counter. Evie and Saint had planned excursions. The zoo, aquarium, and little tourist shit to keep the kids busy. To give us space. Time away from the roles we never clocked out of.
"Zoo today, aquarium tomorrow," Evie said. "Get them biscuits out of the oven and start fixin' the kids' plates." We moved in sync, routine taking over. Biscuits split. Bacon portioned. Eggs scooped. Plates slid across the counter and down onto the table. Kids dropped into seats like they'd been starving all morning, forks already moving.
Once everybody had a plate, Chiana, Amina, Ayida, and I slipped away from the noise and headed up to the rooftop balcony above the house. The air up there felt different, lighter in a way. The ocean stretched out in front of us, endless and calm-looking from a distance. The sun hadn't fully climbed yet, just enough light to warm your shoulders.
Chiana and Amina pulled out blunts at the same time like they'd planned it, laughing as they sparked them up and put them in rotation. "Damn, y'all got a lot of kids," Amina said, cracking up. "I can't believe we pulled this off." We all laughed. We'd talked about a big family trip forever. Life always got in the way. Money. Schedules. Drama. Loss. Somehow, this time, it happened anyway.
"Well, hell," Chiana said, crossing her legs and blowing smoke out slowly. "How y'all doin'? Like really." Nobody answered right away. The question hung there, heavy but gentle.
"Weeelllll," Ayida said finally, her voice lifting. "We start IVF next month." She squealed like she couldn't help it, excitement spilling out of her. We all smiled immediately.
"That's such good news, girl," I said, meaning it. But right behind the smile came something quieter. Something tighter. I watched Ayida's face glow when she talked about it. The hope is there. The belief that something new was coming. That her body might finally give her what she wanted so bad. I was happy for her. I was, but I also felt that familiar tug, the one that came every time someone talked about beginnings while I was still standing in the middle of endings.
I took the blunt when it came to me, but didn't hit it right away. Just held it between my fingers, watching the smoke curl off the end and disappear into the sky.
"You okay?" Amina asked, nudging my knee with hers.
"I'm good," I said it so easy it almost sounded true. I heard Evie's voice in my head like she was still standing in the kitchen.You ain't fine. You functional.