Yusef came out first, backpack on, dressed nice in slacks and a button-down. Probably the most formal I’d ever seen him. He spotted my car and his face lit up.
“Prime!”
He jogged over, and despite everything, I felt something loosen in my chest. This kid. Something about him got to me in ways I couldn’t explain.
“What’s good, lil man?” I got out and dapped him up. “You holding up okay?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, but I could see the heaviness in his eyes. The weight he was still carrying. “I’m good.”
“You look sharp. Very professional.”
He almost smiled. “She made me wear this. Said I had to look presentable.”
“She’s right.”
The door opened again and Zahara stepped out.
She looked good. Too good. Navy blue dress, hair pulled up, minimal makeup. Classy. Put together. The kind of woman you’d be proud to have on your arm.
But her eyes were ice when they landed on me.
“Let’s go,” she said flatly, walking past me toward the car. “We’re gonna be late.”
No good morning. No acknowledgment. Nothing.
I clenched my jaw and opened the back door for Yusef. “Hop in.”
He climbed in, glancing between me and his mother with that nervous look kids get when they know something’s wrong but don’t want to ask.
Zahara was already in the passenger seat, seatbelt on, staring straight ahead like I wasn’t there.
This was gonna be a long three hours.
The first hourpassed in silence.
The city traffic was light this early, so we made good time getting out of the city. Yusef had his earbuds in, head against the window, eyes closed. Probably not sleeping, but checked out. Smart kid. Knew when to disappear.
I kept my eyes on the road, but I could feel Zahara’s coldness radiating from the passenger seat. Every few minutes, I’d glance over, and she’d be staring out the window, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Stubborn as hell.
Just like me.
By the time we hit hour two, Yusef’s breathing had evened out. Actually asleep now, his head lolling against the window.
I turned the music down.
“You gonna ice me out the whole ride?”
Zahara didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at me.
“Aight.” I nodded slowly. “That’s how we doing this.”
More silence.
I let it sit for a few more miles. Then I couldn’t take it anymore.
“You ain’t mad at me, Zahara.”
