Being a school teacher meant being loud enough to capture the attention of little hellions.
My niece Aaliyah came bouncing through the door with pink barrettes and a voice that never stopped moving. Miles, smaller and quieter, followed with serious eyes and a dinosaur tucked into his little fist.
I dropped to my knees.
“There go my babies.”
Aaliyah hurled herself into my arms. Miles took his time, but once I opened the other side of my embrace, he tucked himself there like he always did. Why did the innocent smell so good, I thought as I held them tight.
Jada stood in the doorway watching, her smile too full, too knowing. She was the only one in this world who could read my pulse through my posture. And she knew. She already knew.
The moment the kids got swept up in my father’s stories and dinosaur battles, Jada slid into the kitchen beside me, arms folded, voice low.
“You look different.”
“I changed sweaters.”
“Sanaa.”
I sighed. “You gon’ pull it out of me like a confession?”
“Nope. You know I don’t move like that.” She leaned against the counter, waiting. Always creating space instead of pressure.
“I saw him,” I said quietly.
Her brows lifted. “Recently?”
I nodded. “Last week.”
Her mouth fell open. “Wait—what kind of saw?”
I didn’t answer.
“Youfuckedhim?”
“Jada.”
“I’m asking for context!”
I turned away, but not before she saw the flush on my face. I’d worn it since I left him this morning. That stupid, aching heat in my body that no shower could scrub away.
“Oh my God, youdid. And that explainseverything.”
She stepped closer, all wide eyes and wide smiles. “Okay. How was it?”
“Where’s your husband?”
“You know he’s on call at the hospital—now spill it.”
I stared at the floor.
Her eyes widened again. “Thatgood?”
“Jada, don’t?—”
“No, no, I’m not judging. I’m praying for round two on your behalf.”
I rolled my eyes, but my heart pounded. There’s been two, three, fo’-five rounds, chile. But I didn’t spill all of that.
