He laughs, dropping his head forward before taking in the serious expression on her face. “See what I mean?”
Her smile falls and the light in her eyes seems to dissipate as she moves further away from him. From whatever this is. From whatever it could be.
Her lips press into a thin line. “No, I don’t, actually.” His breath hitches as she seems to snap back into her default mode, her walls growing taller with each passing second.
“Jahlani.”
She clutches her bag tighter. “I’m sorry about earlier, and … thanks again for helping me, but I don’t think this is a good idea for me. I’m just not in a good place right now,” she says, wiping her hand against her thigh.
Roman’s ribs grow tight as he gives a weak smile. “Yeah, okay,” he says, while blinking. “Sorry, I don’t know what?—”
“No, it’s fine?—”
“—came over me, I have a lot?—”
“—I’m just figuring out things?—”
They both pull in shaky breaths before laughing. Roman swallows, stepping back.
“Maybe I’ll see you around?” he asks, looking down as his phone vibrates. Danica’s name and number flash across the screen along with a contact picture—a photo of her with Lucy. His daughter. The very reason he’s in this store to begin with.
He declines the call, but when he looks back up, she’s gone.
I’m just not in a good place right now.
And he knows she was right to pass up on his offer because, truth be told, neither is he.
CHAPTER 5
EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE
JAHLANI
As Jahlani stands on the creaky wooden front porch, a strip of skin on her left arm starts to tighten and swell. Being away for so long, she had forgotten how mosquitoes love the taste of her blood.
She knows she can just open the screen door and knock. The crisp air conditioning would greet her, and she could take a chilling shower to cleanse herself of the Floridian humidity, of the strange sensation from her interaction with the guy at the store.
Her lips twitch at the memory, and she touches her mouth as soft laughter spills out, her chest flooding withsomethingfor the first time in weeks. A welcomed ache at the thought of what could have been because she didn’t even get his name, and she’s still thinking about him.
The sound of a passing car hitting a divot in the road startles her, and she blinks toward the house.
The chipped raspberry-tinted door, adorned in gold-plated numbers—3141—shines at her.
Go inside,she thinks, trying to compel herself forward.
And yet, she remains. Rigid. Unwilling to move even as a third mosquito burrows into her right ankle. Too long. It’s been too long. What will she say? How will sheexplain?
Jahlani heaves out a sigh, turning back toward the metal that is her car, her month-old French curl braids swishing along with her. It looks out of place on the paved driveway. It doesn’t belong there.
Wiping her palm against her arm, she glances toward the street, soaking it in. Something is off. Green and blue bins line the driveways of each residence. All the lawns are mowed, and the exteriors of the houses are smeared in fresh, modest coats of paint. Everything lookscleanerthan she remembers. She’s used to seeing overgrown weeds, barely-there fences, crumbling infrastructure.
Gentrification doing its work I see.
Glancing down at the keys in her hand, she wraps a tight fist around them. She’ll come back tomorrow. And she’ll have some kind of half-truth, some bullshit lie to vindicate her disappearing act.
Jahlani stares as two bushy-tailed squirrels scamper off around the corner. Lizards chase each other up into the palm trees.Do you know what you’re doing? Do you know where you’re going?she thinks, and then laughs at theinsanityof it all because—yes, they have their shit together and,clearly, they know where they’re going.
Slipping her phone from her back pocket, her finger hovers over the contact for Imani. When Jahlani checks the time, she realizes it’s reaching half past four in California, so she’ll still be at work.
