She looked at herself in the mirror like she was staring at a stranger. I stepped in and put my arms around her from behind, both of us looking at our reflections, and I held her the way she had held me more times than I could count.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said quietly. “Not today. Today is London’s day, but we’ll definitely figure it out.”
She nodded, pressing her lips together hard. She straightened up, smoothed her robe, and checked her face in the mirror.
“Don’t say anything,” she said.
“When have I ever,” I said back.
Before we could move toward the door it swung open. Amina maneuvered herself in on crutches, her wrapped ankle barely clearing the threshold. She looked good despite all of it. The black mini dress hugged every curve she had; three-dimensional floral appliqués scattered across the fabric like someone had pressed real flowers into the material. The hem hit mid thighand even on crutches she carried herself like she knew exactly what she was working with. Hair laid, makeup beat, and she had clearly been pregaming.
She clocked us both immediately and pulled up short, steadying herself on the crutches. Her eyes went straight to Paris’s face, reading the red rimmed eyes and the tight jaw the way only a best friend can.
“P, what’s wrong?”
Paris shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Amina’s expression shifted. Something flickered behind her eyes, quick and sharp. She looked from Paris to me and back again.
“Oh,” she said, her voice dropping into something wounded. “So, you about to replace me for her just like Dex did huh.”
“Don’t start Amina damn,” Paris said, her voice flat and final before brushing past her and out the restroom.
The door swung shut and it was just the two of us.
Amina looked at the door then slowly turned to look at me, her eyes moving from my head to my feet and back up with that particular kind of assessment that was designed to make you feel small.
“I really don’t see what he sees in you,” she said.
I let that sit for a second. There was no point in taking the bait.
She turned toward the stall, her crutches catching on the tile. She stumbled, catching herself before anything happened.
“That’s what you get for being a bitch,” I said.
Amina whipped her head around. “Call me another bitch and see what happens. Crutches or not.”
“Get your cripple drunk ass out my face,” I said. “You’re so unbalanced I could probably blow and you’d fall.”
Amina cut her eyes at me and turned back toward the stall with an attitude, pushing the door open harder than necessary.One crutch slipped on the tile again and she lurched forward, nearly face planting directly into the toilet.
She yelped.
I was moving before I even made the decision to. I grabbed her by the arm and steadied her, keeping her upright until she got her balance back.
She stood there breathing hard, gripping the stall wall, her dignity somewhere on the floor between us.
Neither one of us said anything for a second.
“Thank you,” she muttered, not looking at me.
“Don’t mention it,” I said. “Ever.”
I stepped back out and pulled the stall door closed behind me, giving her privacy. I leaned against the counter and waited.
When I heard the lock click open, I spoke before she could say anything.
“Amina, I don't want to argue with you forever. I know I’m the enemy to you and I understand why, but I have loved Dex since we were kids. I’m not getting with him to spite you or to steal him from you.” I paused, letting my truth settle. “Hell, some days I wish I could turn it off. Wish he could too. Would have made everybody’s life a whole lot simpler. But I can’t and neither can he.”