“You mean like you’ve been doing for the past decade?” I smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Oh wait. You haven’t been doing that at all.”
Meech stood up again, and this time two guards started moving toward us.
“You got a real smart mouth for a nigga who in here while I’m chained up. See me outside when I get released.” Meech said.
“And you got a real short memory for somebody who asked to see his son and is wasting the whole visit talking about everything except getting to know him. And as soon as you get out, I’ll handle you. Shit is light work.”
The guards reached our table. “Gentleman,” one of them said firmly. “This is your final warning. One more outburst and this visit is terminated.”
“I’m good on this. Just make sure Zahara is there at my parole hearing. I’mma make sure my uncle knows to see to it,” Meech said as he stood up and walked away.
We went through the exit process in silence. Collected our belongings. Walked through the buzzing doors. Yusef didn’t say a word, just kept his eyes down, his shoulders hunched.
When we finally stepped outside into the fresh air, he stopped and took a deep breath.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded, but I could see the lie in his face.
“That was…” I searched for words. “That wasn’t how I hoped it would go.”
“He wasn’t what I expected,” Yusef said quietly.
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Someone who… cared, maybe?” He looked up at me, and damn if those eyes didn’t remind me of myself at that age. “He didn’t even ask about my music. Not really. He just wanted to know about my mother.”
“Some people don’t know how to be fathers,” I said. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know.” But he didn’t sound convinced.
We walked to the car in silence. I could see Zahara sitting in the passenger seat, her phone in her hands, her posture tense. She looked up as we approached, her eyes immediately scanning Yusef’s face, looking for damage.
I unlocked the doors and Yusef climbed in the back without a word.
Zahara turned in her seat. “What happened? You okay?”
“I’m fine.” But his voice cracked slightly. “Can we just go home?”
“Of course.” She looked at me, questions in her eyes.
I started the car, pulling out of the parking lot. In the rearview mirror, I could see Yusef staring out the window, his jaw tight, fighting tears he didn’t want to shed.
And I could feel Zahara’s eyes on me, waiting for an explanation.
“Well?” she asked quietly once we were on the highway.
“Later,” I said, glancing meaningfully at the backseat.
She followed my gaze, saw Yusef’s fragile state, and nodded.
But I could see the worry in her face. The fear.
Something happened between her and Meech and I needed to figure out what.
12
ZAHARA
