“Yeah. Shit like that.” I liked when my baby caught on.
“And who do you entertain while you wait on me?”
“I don’t entertain, Ma. I do a lil’ fuckin’ here and there, but that’s about it.”
She rolled her eyes hard, setting the cup down in front of her.
“You mad?”
She frowned. “About?”
“Knowing that yo’ nigga out here fuckin’.”
She sipped her tea and sat back on the barstool. “Oh, my nigga ain’t out here fuckin’. My nigga would know not to even play wit’ me like that. So, no, I’m not mad that you out here free dickin’. That ain’t got nothing to do wit’ me.”
“Free dickin’?” I laughed.
“You heard what I said. I guess I don’t understand why you always checkin’ for me when there’s hoes checkin’ for you. Like, give Big Mama a break.”
I walked around the island, invading her space. “And what you gon’ do when I stop checkin’ for you?”
She went silent and stared up at me over the rim of her cup.
“Admit it, Danae. You just as fucked up about me as I am about you. The only difference is I choose to love you out loud, while you run from the inevitable. But I’m here, Ma. A nigga ain’t going nowhere. I don’t show up for you for brownie points. I show up because I want you to know how good this shit can get. A nigga love you, and I ain’t even made that pussy my home yet. You wanna know why?”
She continued to stare blankly.
“Ask me why.”
“Why?” she questioned just above a whisper.
“Cause I need this,” I pointed to her head then to her heart, “and I want that.”
“And what you gon’ do wit’ it that the last nigga couldn’t?”
“Keep it.”
She froze, mouth clamped around the rim of the cup. I didn’t move. I stayed locked in on her so that she knew I meant every word I said.
“I’m ready to take part in that rest you suggested I take off for,” she said.
“I’ll show you where you can lay down.”
I walked her to the guest bedroom where a king-sized bed with clean sheets and an oversized duvet awaited her. I knew I’d be pushing it if I asked if she wanted to change, so I didn’t bother.
“Bathroom is to your left. If you need anything, I’ll be in my office across the hall.”
“Okay, thank you.” She took a look around the room before turning halfway to me. “And thank you for showing up.”
“Always,” I replied, walking to the door and closing it.
Suddenly, the penthouse came alive, not because her physical presence filled the space but because now, a piece of her heart did too. And once Danae stopped running from what she felt, I had a space for her to land.
A few hours had passed, and I let Danae sleep without interruption. I needed to do some research on a potential investment property, so I stayed in my office for a few, going over floor plans and figures that worked for me. Satisfied with my plan of execution, I found myself in the kitchen. I wanted to make something that would stick to her stomach but wouldn’t cause discomfort when she finally woke up.
I propped my phone up, while Grandma Lettie walked me through her chicken and rice soup recipe step by step on FaceTime. She sat in the camera with her glasses sitting on the brim of her nose, watching my every move. If you wanted Grandma Lettie’s help, everything had to be precise, from the way I shredded the chicken to the way I cut the celery and carrots. Thanks to a quick Instacart, I had everything I needed to make the perfect pot of soup.
“Turn the fire down, grandson. You can’t rush the process,”she said, watching my hand as it stirred the ingredients in the pot.“Your mind can’t be elsewhere while you’re cooking either.”
