Meadow felt heat shoot through her stomach. She tried to step back. Zaire followed.
“You want me so bad you throwing fits at everybody ‘cause you don’t know where to put it,” he challenged. “Not even in your own damn head.”
“Zaire,” she warned.
“Nah.” His nose wrinkled his hypnotized her. “Say it.”
She shook her head.
“Say. It.”
When she stayed silent, Zaire stepped back, running both hands over his head before his temper swallowed him whole. He paced once, twice, cussing under his breath, frustration twisting his whole body. “You a trip, man.” He shook his head. “I swear to God…”
He moved toward the door.
“Where you going?” Meadow asked.
“The fuck from by you,” he barked without looking back. “Before I say some shit I can’t take back.”
He walked out, mumbling curses all the way down the hall.
Meadow was left standing in the middle of her living room, trembling, angry, confused, turned inside out by the truth she didn’t want to name. And a puddle in her panties.
Zaire slammedthe guest house door harder than he meant to. Not out of rage toward Meadow, but because his whole body felt too tight to hold anything steady. He paced the small room, hands on his hips, trying to shake off the tension grinding through his nerves.
His phone buzzed.
Zaire dropped onto the edge of the bed and answered. “Aye.”
His father’s voice crackled through the speaker, deep and annoyed. “Bout time you picked up. Been three damn days. You forget you got a daddy?”
Zaire closed his eyes briefly. “Been busy.”
“Busy my ass. You act like I ain’t sittin’ in this box waitin’ on my son to remember I ain’t dead yet.”
Zaire rubbed his forehead. “I hear you.”
“Yeah, well say it louder next time.”
They sat in that heavy silence men share when they miss each other but refuse to say it.
Antwan broke it. “So. What’s up with you?”
Zaire made a noise in his throat. “Nothin’.”
“Bullshit,” his father called bullshit. “Your voice sound all twisted up. You fighting somethin’. The girl?”
Zaire huffed. “Why you assume it’s a woman?”
“Because you sound just like I did when your mama had me losing my damn mind,” Antwan tittered with memories that were the only thing keeping him sane. “So either it’s a woman or you got shot again, and I ain’t heard nothing from the streets.”
Zaire couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “You a trip, cuh.”
“I’m right,” Antwan replied proudly. “So spit it out.”
Zaire leaned back on his elbows, staring at the ceiling. “I told her.”
The line went dead silent.
