“Aight.” I swung open the car door and climbed out, following her up the steps and through the front door.
“Welcome home!” The shout hit me like a wave, and I glanced around at the faces standing in my sister’s living room with smiles. My nephew and a buff nigga holding a baby were all standing there, waving at me. This was Jess’s tribe, alright.
“Uncle Quade!”
“Zy!” I shouted as my nephew rushed over to me, showing all his teeth. He was taller than I remembered. His hair was in a neat set of locs, and he had the nerve to have a chain around his neck like he was grown now or something.
“In the flesh. You done got buff, Uncle Quade. Those prison workouts must hit different.”
“Damn, you all grown up, lil’ dude. Last time I saw you, you were still in Spider-Man underwear.” I pulled him into a hug.
“Whatever, Unc.” He brushed me off. “You see the sign, though, right? That was all me.”
I looked up at the welcome-home banner that hung in the archway. The letters were spelled out in some unique-looking 3D bubble letters.
“Yeah, I see it. It’s dope.”
“I was gonna make it bigger, but Mama said don’t be extra.”
“She was right. I love it, though, Nephew. Let me find out we got an artist in the family.”
“See, I’ve been telling you!” He turned to fuss at his mom.
I walked through the house, making my way into the dining room. There was no crowd, no noise, just the sound of music playing low and the baby cooing. I looked around at the same furniture I helped pick out, the same rug, and the same family photos. I took a long breath and let it all fill my chest. Maybe staying here would be better than going to the transitional housing. I sighed as I made a beeline for my niece. Nyla was about seven months old. I’d seen pictures of her, but now I washere, and she was everything. I gazed at her big, round eyes and chubby cheeks.
“Hey, niecey pooh.” I reached my arms toward hers. When she reached back with a little grunt like she already knew who I was, the hard exterior that I’d adapted to survive disappeared.
“Damn. She’s beautiful,” I said, taking her in my arms. “Why is it I don’t remember Zy ever being this small?” I asked, cradling Nyla in one arm.
Jess laughed. “That’s ’cause Zy wasn’t this small. That boy came out looking like a two-year-old.” We both shared a laugh, and for a second, I forgot how heavy the day had been. I looked down at Nyla, her tiny fingers gripping the edge of my hoodie—peaceful, untouched by the world. I couldn’t believe my sister had made something so perfect.
“She’s the beautiful proof that life keeps moving,” a deep, unfamiliar voice called out, making me look up to see who I assumed to be Ronald, my sister’s man and Nyla’s dad. I’d heard about him a lot while I was locked up. If not from Jess, from Zy.
“The Quae Lo himself,” he said with a grin, stepping up and holding out a fist. “Big fan, bro. It’s good to have you home.”
I dapped him up and took a second to size him up, but not in a threatening way. I just wanted to check his energy.
“You must be Ronald,” I said. “Appreciate you holdin’ it down for my sister while I was gone.”
“Everybody calls me Ron, and it ain’t nothin’. Jess is the love of my life. Making sure she never wants for shit, that’s innate.”
“Respect.” I nodded. Jess hadn’t told me much about him, but I knew enough. I knew he was the one responsible for getting her to slow down, take a break from trying to carry the world on her back. She called it her soft-girl era, said he made her feel safe. I respected that. My sister deserved it.
I looked back down at Nyla, who was blinking up at me like I was the most fascinating thing in the room. I didn’t havemuch to say, not yet anyway. I was still adjusting to being on the outside, trying to feel normal in a world that had moved on without me.
“I was tellin’ Jessica, if you ever think about gettin’ back into music, I got some connections, built a couple of clubs for the boys over at Eight24 Records. They’ve been askin’ about you.”
“Nah,” I said, cutting him off before he could finish. “I’m good on the whole music thing. Plus, I don’t need no handouts.”
Ronald raised a brow. “So that means I’ll be seein’ you at work next week?”
I looked over at him slowly. “Didn’t I just say I’m not some pity project? I’m not interested.”
“Not interested, huh? You think this is about pity?”
I didn’t say a word.
“You think I’d let just anybody on my job sites? This ain’t some charity gig where you sweep floors and pose for press shots. We build and fix up people’s homes. Serious work. I saw your qualifications, and I think you’re a good fit.”
