"Remember them days when Mama and Shaunie was running shit together?" Tasha asked, her voice softer now. "Back before Daddy took over everything?"
I nodded as memories came flooding back. Shaunie wasn't just some good Samaritan who took us in, she was deep in the streets back then. Her and our mother had come up together, running coke through the South Side in the late '90s before our father expanded into heroin and took over the whole operation.
"Yeah, they asses was like the queens of 79th Street," I said and Tasha smiled.
"Ma always said Shaunie was the brains and she was the muscle.”
"That's 'cause Shaunie was good at the business side.”
"At least she got out before it was too late," Tasha said, gently bouncing Nova who was starting to fuss. “I wish Ma would’ve did the same, I mean she could’ve bought some property, open some real businesses. But she was too hooked on that fast money."
"That’s cause Pop’s was in her ear" I added. "She listened to every word that nigga said.”
Our father, Marcus Bowers, had rolled into Chicago from Detroit, looking for a come up. he was a slick ass nigga, with a pimp mentality. After meeting my father, my mother was pregnant with me within six months, then three years later came Tasha. My moms and Shaunie continued to do their thing, but when my pops own hustle dried up, he convinced my mother to allow him in on what she had going on with Shaunie. After that, shit went downhill from there. Within a year, he brainwashed my moms, pushed Shaunie out, and expanded everything tenfold.
"You think that's why Shaunie took us in?" Tasha asked suddenly.
"Because she felt guilty? 'Cause she and Mama fell out over business?"
I shook my head. "Nah. It wasn’t about guilt. Despite everything they went through, they stayed close. Remember how she was the only one Ma would call when shit got rough withPops? How Ma would pack us up in the middle of the night sometimes and we'd stay at Shaunie's crib for a few days?"
Tasha nodded, her expression clearing. "Yeah... yeah, you right. Shaunie always had Mama's back, even after everything."
"That's 'cause they was real family. Not by blood, but by choice." I reached over to wipe a bit of drool from Nova's chin.
"She saved us, though," Tasha continued, her voice dropping lower
"When Mama got deported and Daddy got life…. any other muthafuckas would've let us go to foster care."
I nodded, remembering those days. I was fourteen, Tasha just eleven when our world collapsed. Our father had been running one of the largest heroin operations on the South Side. When the feds finally caught up to him, they came with a RICO case built over five years. The same day they raided our house, ICE picked up our mother. She had never gotten her citizenship despite spending twenty years in the country.
Within forty-eight hours, we had lost everything, our parents, our home, and our sense of security.
"Shaunie didn't even hesitate," I said quietly. "She just showed up at the police station where they was holding us, told them she was our Auntie, and took us home that night."
"And she raised us like we was her own," Tasha added, still focused on Nova who was now playing with the collar of her prison uniform.
The memory of those early days living with Shaunie, Sosa, and Zurie flooded back. Sosa had been my homie from the beginning so living with them only added closeness to our relationship. Zurie, since she was older than us immediately took my sister under her wing. And Shaunie, even though she was firm she was also loving, she established her rules and expectations from day one.
Nova began to fuss a little, making little cooing sounds that I knew from experience could quickly turn into full-blown crying.
"She probably hungry," I said, reaching into the diaper bag for a bottle. "You wanna feed her?"
Tasha nodded eagerly, taking the bottle with shaking hands. She positioned Nova more comfortably in her arms and gave her the bottle. Nova latched on immediately, her tiny hands coming up to hold the sides.
"Look at her," Tasha whispered, awestruck.
As Tasha fed her daughter, a calm settled over us. A buzzer sounded, signaling we had five minutes left. Tasha's face fell.
"It's going so fast," she whispered. "I hate I gotta go back in there, Trigg. I can't do this shit."
The desperation in her voice cut through me. My baby sister, who I promised I would always protect, was locked in a cage while her baby grew up without her.
"I need to come home," she continued, tears flowing freely now.
“You gon be home sis, I promise you, just hol’ on for me.” I tried to assure her.
The CO approached our table. "Time's up, Bowers."