“Finally!” she squealed, arms wide as she rushed us. She was acting as if she hadn’t seen us the other day when she dropped off the shirts. Maybe she didn’t think I would actually come.
Mahlia hugged me tight and then did the same to Ermias.
“Auntie,” he whined, causing us to laugh.
“You look too good,” she said. “I see you didn’t cover your eye. I’m proud of you. You’ve met most of my family anyway. That eye doesn’t take away from anything. You fine as fuck, girl.”
We laughed again.
“Can I go play?” Ermias asked, jumping as if he were already ready to take off. I nodded.
“Be nice and keep your hands to yourself,” I reminded him, but he was already halfway gone in a full sprint.
Mahlia waved me off. “He’s good, girl. I promise.”
We began walking to where Mahlia’s mom, Mrs. Mena, was sitting, eyes on the kids.
I waved and spoke to her and everyone who was around. They all spoke back, but I couldn’t help but notice some of their eyes lingering longer on my face. I shielded my eyes from the sun and glanced around.
That’s when I saw him.
Tall, dark skin rich like coffee left on the stove too long. His locs were pulled back. He was wearing blue jean shorts and was shirtless, his family reunion shirt draped over his shoulder. His arms were crossed, tattoos covering both, along with his neck, stomach, and legs. I caught myself staring and immediately glanced away. I don’t know what made me look at him again. When I did, he was looking back.
He nodded once. Real subtle.
2
ZYRO COLEMAN
She looked away quickly, but I caught her not only the first time, but the second time as well.
I didn’t smile or move. I just offered her a nod.
I’ve never seen her before, but I saw she’d come in with a lil’ youngin’ that looked just like her. She walked beside my cousin, Mahlia. She spoke to my family. When she smiled, it didn’t come close to reaching her eyes—not both of them, anyway.
Her left eye was clouded, but she was still beautiful. Fine, too.
Whatever my Uncle Tim was talking about, I ain’t heard it. My arms were crossed, my shirt was tossed over my shoulder, and I was paying attention toher.Mahlia told me she was bringing a friend, and I brushed that shit off ‘cause she was always tryin’ to hook me up with a nappy-headed bitch she knew.
I watched her every move. She was now near the table that held food, helping her son poke a straw into a juice pouch. She kept one hand on his back as he gulped that shit down. My eyes darted to Mahlia, who was watching me with a smirk. She said something to her friend, her friend nodded, and then Maliah slid her way over to me. I took a sip of my brown liquor in my red cup.
“What you lookin’ at?” she asked, nudging me with her bony ass elbow.
“What’s the kid’s name?” I asked instead of answering her question.
“Ermias. He’s five and don’t ask me ‘bout no baby daddy ‘cause she don’t like to talk about him,” Maliah rambled.
I frowned and looked at her sideways. “I ain’t ask you allat.”
My cousin laughed loudly and ignorantly.
I smirked and put my eyes back on the grill, pretending to watch Uncle T flip chicken. I took another slow sip.
“Why you ask about her kid, though? You didn’t even ask about her. You want to know her name?”
“Nah,” I told her, squinting and shaking my head. “If I did, I’d ask her.”
“Just like you could have asked her son’s name,” Mahlia shot back, grinning.
