“Uh huh. Because if I leave it up to you, you’ll be here making lesson plans instead of living your life,” she said, placing a hand on her hip.
This tickled NanNan pink as she bent over behind the counter. “Take the day, baby. You earned it.”
The three of us paused in the middle of the shop, warm lights pooling over the family photos—Mama smiling, Daddy holding me as a baby, my grandparents posed outside this very building.History looked on while we laughed, and love lived in the small things: sugar packets, napkins, the steady hush of legacy.
For one small moment, I let myself breathe.
Maybe my life had become a loop of responsibility, but right then, surrounded by the people who loved me most, it didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like purpose.
Perhaps I could want more than purpose. I could want joy without earning it first. I could want a life that felt full.
Mel grinned like the devil herself. “I got us two tickets for the Self Ridge Skylines basketball game. They are lower-level seats too, boo. You’re coming with me, and that’s final.”
I shook my head, laughing despite myself. “You really don’t take no for an answer.”
“Not with your happiness. I’m tired of watching you save the world. It’s time you let the world give you something back,” she said, hugging me tight.
That night, after I dropped Mel off and tucked NanNan in, I stood by my window, looking out at the streetlights painting the pavement gold. The town was quiet, but my heart wasn’t.
Maybe they were right. Perhaps I was overdue for a bit of living. What was the worst that could happen?
Still, as I turned off the lamp and crawled into bed with my planner on the nightstand, I whispered a promise to myself, soft enough not to scare it away.
I’d take the day off—just one.
It wassix-thirty in the morning, and my feet were already on the floor before the alarm finished its first ring. I sat at the edge of the bed, rubbed my hands over my face, and pulled my locs into a low tie. The bathroom light hit my skin, and I stared at my reflection until my thoughts stopped running in circles and settled into a straight line.
In my house, I keep certain things tight like shoes by the door, dishes rinsed, and the back door bolted. I propped the windows open only when grown folks smoked and never when my girls were near. Anybody new who stepped inside got checked with my eyes first. Not the friendly eyes, but thewho sent youeyes. That was not paranoia to me. That happened after life proved it could hit hard without warning.
I took a shower and got dressed quickly, throwing on some black sweats, a Self Ridge Rec Center tee, and my all-white Forces. The house was already moving. I heard plates clinking in the kitchen. The twins’ voices floated down the hall, one loud and fast, one low and careful.
“Y’all doing homework at six-thirty now?” I asked as I stepped into the kitchen.
Reagan sat at the table with an edge scarf tied tight, lashes already on, notebook open, and pen in hand.
“These curls will not cooperate on their own, Roman, and I gotta fix this essay before Ms. S trips on me,” she said.
Reece stood by the counter, hair in two puffs, glasses sliding down her nose. She poured coffee into a mug, slid it toward me, then pushed a sheet of paper across the table. “I made you coffee, and I wrote a checklist for your day. You finish more things when you have lists.”
My chest eased a little. “You got me on a schedule now, baby girl?”
“Yes,” she said, steady and calm.
I picked up the paper and read.
7:30 – Rec Center: morning master’s swim
9:00 – Call Coach Peña about more hours
12:00 – Lunch and budget check
3:30 – Youth swim clinic
6:00 – Groceries (No extras—Reagan)
7:30 – Study hall with us
10:00 – Breathe
