“He does, clearly,” she murmurs, sitting upright.
Jahlani shakes her head. “I’d ruin him, Imani.”
“Or maybe you wouldn’t.”
“He’ll get tired of me?—”
“Or maybe he never gets tired of you.”
“He’ll want me to love him in a way I’m not capable of?—”
“Or,” she says, grabbing Jahlani’s hands, “Maybe you already love him the best way you know how and that’s enough for him. Don’t you think you should let him decide his limits?”
Jahlani shakes her head. “I already know his limits, and I know how this ends.”
Two days later, it’s well after midnight when she gets back to Florida. She ignores Roman’s sleep-well message, choosing instead to curl into a ball, crying herself to sleep. The next day, she convinces him that she’s come down with something and insists on not wanting to pass it on to Lucy.
Jahlani can hear her mom banging around the kitchen and against her better judgment, leaves to investigate. She shuffles down the hallway into the kitchen. Multiple pots sit on the stove, while carrots, lentils, and half-chopped celery take up the countertop. Blinking, she walks in, lowering herself to the dining room chair.
“What’s all this?” Jahlani croaks.
Her mom moves back to the largest pot, lifting the lid to stir what’s inside.
“It’s soup. Dick’s not feeling well, so I’m making him some. Gonna head over to him in a minute.”
Jahlani’s fingers twitch watching her mom. She waits, and waits, and waits, but the offer never comes. She doesn’t ask if Jahlani wants any. She doesn’t try to force-feed her. She doesn’t even look at her.
“Mom.” Her voice reverberates in the small kitchen. Her mother’s sunken eyes meet hers. “I have to talk to you. Can you sit for a second?”
She looks over at Jahlani, moving to the pantry. “Can it wait? Dick likes his food hot. Won’t touch the microwave—radiation and all that,” she says, rummaging through the shelves.
“No, it can’t,” she says through a shaky exhale.
Her mom returns with various-sized Tupperware, setting them on the countertop before looking at her with a sigh.
“What is it, Jahlani?”
Jahlani starts cracking her fingers before spinning the necklace at her collarbone. “I’m leaving,” she says, her eyes flitting to hers before looking down at the fruit-printed tablecloth. “I took a job in California. It’s a good job,” she says, setting her hands on the table, looking at her. “It’s my dream job.”
Her mom blinks, seemingly unfazed and then returns to sorting the Tupperware. “Well, that’s good. I can rent out that room, then. Dick has a friend?—”
“Mom,” Jahlani says, her knee bouncing. “Are you being serious right now?”
She continues to sort the Tupperware. All the tops on one end and their respective bases on the other. “What? Dick thinks it’ll be a good source of income.”
“Mom,” she says, pushing from the table with shaky hands. “Please.Please. I’m begging you right now.” Jahlani covers her mouth, working through the lump in her throat. She wipes under her eye with her thumb. “Do you even know the statistical probability of me being successful? How incredibly low it is, considering neither of my parents went to college. Not to mention they had the world’sshittiestmarriage. I mean, the odds werereallystacked against me. But I did that. I graduated twice withoutyou—” she jabs a finger in her mother’s direction— “withoutDad. Without any of you. And despite this, despite this astronomical accomplishment that I’ve achieved that you have yet to acknowledge, you decide to concern yourself with some random asshole? Why don’t you care about me? You bring all these men in here, and you cook for them, you clean for them, you provide for them, and you neglect me,” she says, pushing a finger into her chest. “Your daughter, your child.”
Her mother blinks, her lips thinning. “You’re twenty-six, Jahlani. You’re not a child anymore. You’re a biggrownwoman now,” she says, waving her hand in her direction. “You got grown and youleft, and you realized too late that the world isn’t kind to people like us,” she says haughtily, pointing a finger at her. “So don’t blame me, child.”
Jahlani shakes her head. “You acted like you didn’t want me around after Dad left,” she says, wiping her nose. “I was a kid. And you just … left me.”
“Left you?No, baby, your father left you. I providedfor you.”
“You’re not listening to me,” she whispers, sinking back into the chair.
“I’m listening. You just don’t like what I have to say. You had a roof over your head, food on your plate, and clothes on your back. I’m sorry I was such a bad mother. I’m sorry that I didn’t want to be alone after he left.”
Jahlani scoffs, rubbing her forehead. “I didn’t say you’re a bad mother. And you weren’t alone.”
