This man…this stranger…this father behind bars who somehow still held a softness that made the world feel warmer.
He had Zaire’s heart right in his voice.
“Zaire got more fight in him than most men,” Antwan lectured, voice slipping into a slight rasp, “but he got this thing where he tries to hold everything alone, like he owes the world a debt he didn’t create.”
Meadow closed her eyes, soaking in just how much she and Zaire were alike. She knew all too well about trying to pay debts you had no knowledge of…debts you inherited.
“He does,” she agreed, “more than I think he realizes.”
Antwan hummed. “So I’m right…he’s lettin’ you see the parts he hides from everybody else.”
“Sometimes,” she said softly. “At least, I think so.”
“That’s good,” he replied. “My boy ain’t never needed much…just somebody who sees him as the masterpiece he is. Somebody who talks to him...somebody he ain’t gotta pretend for.”
Meadow pressed her hand to her chest.
Antwan kept going like he’d been waiting his entire sentence to say this to somebody who’d love his son right.
“You ain’t gotta be perfect for him, Meadow Green,” he wanted her to know. “You just gotta be real. Zaire doesn’t do well with masks. He gets that from me, from his Mama too. We don’t like pretend love…we don’t accept quiet love…we only respect the love that stands next to you when life gets loud.”
Meadow’s chest seized up, the weight of his words settling into her, making her heart beat with a tenderness.
Antwan grew quieter. “You one of the first people outside this family he let get close…I can hear it in the way you breathe when you talk about him.”
“I…I love that about him,” she managed.
“I know you do,” Antwan’s smile was heard through the line. “I can hear it.”
He asked softly, “You treatin’ him good, though right?”
Meadow didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir. I’m tryin’ my best.”
“Good…I didn’t do right by him. So, it makes me feel better knowing, he’s living,” he sniffed. “Far as I’m concerned…that makes you family.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
No one had ever told her she could be someone’s family this fast, no one but Zaire. And now, the man who made him…the man who taught him charm and grit and love even from behind bars…the man who still raised his son without being able to go home had stamped her.
“Thank you,” Meadow whispered, her voice breaking.
“Mmhmm,” Antwan nodded into the phone. “Now give him this message, tell him his old man said stop takin’ life so serious.”
She laughed, wiping her face. “Yes, sir.”
“And tell him…” Antwan paused, his voice thickening with something heavy, “that I’m proud of him, even if he can’t always hear it.”
Meadow inhaled hard. “I’ll tell him.”
“And Meadow?”
“Yes?”
“You good for him, don’t let fear tell you otherwise.”
Her eyes shut tight. “I won’t,” she whispered.
November
