Ace’s fingers lace with mine. He presses his thumb against the back of my hand, anchoring me again. The service starts next, but I don’t hear a damn thing. The words float past me like paper airplanes in the wind.
But even in my daze, I manage to make out the word complicated quite a few times, which lets me know Rashad was up here being a menace.
I imagine that word will be spoken a lot when I die.
After the service, we hang around for a minute to thank the minister, then we make our way toward the door. And I don't know how, but I sense her presence before I see her. Hair raises on my skin, goose bumps, even a little tickle in my throat.
I turn around, and yep, there she is.
My fucking mother.
41
Ace
It’s cold as fuck in New York. Damn.
The air is sharp, but it wraps around you, holds you, and refuses to let go.
People are clustering on the steps talking, meanwhile I’m trying to get the fuck on. But Raya and Tori are still in conversation, so I wait.
Raya’s mother stands a little ways apart from the groups of people. It’s just her and who I assume is her husband. I take the opportunity to get the measure of her, because they say if you wanna know who your wife will become, look at her mother.
She’s pretty as hell. Same smooth brown skin and thick hair as her daughter. Her clothes and coat look expensive. Heels on her shoes are high. She looks fly, but in an OG kinda way.
But something about her is very cold, and it ain’t the weather.
She looks brittle. Her eyes scan the small crowd, then land on my wife. They’re like shark eyes, just dark and emotionless.
I think about the kind of woman who would leave her kids behind to go off and find a new husband, then never return again, and it makes me realize Raya didn’t just survive her father, she survived her mother, too.
It’s funny, because Raya told me she doesn’t think her mother was a bad mother. I don’t know if that’s cope, denial, or the execution of the blueprint. I wonder if my wife would do the same.
Unfortunately, it’s in the realm of possibility.
I could be a single father easily. Anybody with eyes can see the stigma for that is nonexistent. But I wouldn’t wanna do it without Raya.
Oh well.
It doesn’t matter.
Soon enough, she’s gonna kill my fucking baby.
Tori reaches for me and we exchange hugs. She says her goodbyes, and Raya promises we’ll meet her for dinner. She’s skipping the repast.
We’re walking toward the sidewalk when her mother steps forward.
“Raya,” she says. Even her voice sounds cold.
I move without thinking, taking one step forward and angling my body in front of Raya’s. I don’t think this woman will physically hurt my wife, but a line has to be drawn in the sand. Fuck with her and you’re fucking with me.
“I just want a moment,” her mother says, her eyes flicking between me and Raya. “Please.”
I can practically feel Raya getting smaller behind me, which shocks me. It always shocks me when she shrinks, because any other time, her presence fills the room.
“Please, Raya,” she repeats.
“Not right now,” Raya says behind me. “Maybe later.”
