Princess watched it all quietly.
Yana’s friends came by and grabbed her to take a cast photo together, and we followed behind. The three of us stood there—Princess, Juwon, and me, three people connected by one girl—and acted as if we weren’t balancing on something fragile.
“So,” Princess spoke as Yana threw up peace signs and posed for pictures with her friends, “we were gonna go grab some food.”
As if on cue, my phone buzzed again. I pulled it from my pocket and tapped the screen. Across the display was a message from Simone, my AR. She was a tiny woman with a mighty attitude. She got shit done though; I couldn’t even front.
Zay, you need to be on this meeting in 10 minutes. I’m not holding them off for you again.
I sighed. “I gotta head back out.”
Princess’s shoulders dropped, and she frowned. Juwon and I both noticed the disappointment. He breathed deeply and dropped his head to the ground.
She spoke quickly after she caught herself. “So soon? How long are you in town?”
“I have a meeting now. I planned to take it in the truck on my way back to the airport,” I said. “I’ll be back next weekend. I swear.”
Yana ran back over to where we stood with a smile so bright that it crushed me when she noticed our expressions.
“I have to head out of here, baby girl,” I said carefully.
Yana nodded, trying to be brave about it, as she always had when I had to leave. It killed me that she seemed to have had expected it. Juwon remained expressionless as he looked away.I crouched down and gave her a hug. I whispered to her and promised that I would make it up to her.
When she let go of me, Princess stepped to me and gave me a side hug, wrapping one arm around my neck.
“She’s just happy you show up at all,” she whispered softly in my ear.
I nodded, but it didn’t settle the ache. It just reminded me of another time, the younger version of myself, cold, sneaking into Princess’s bedroom in Detroit because I had nowhere else to go, telling her I didn’t know how to be a father, that I didn’t know how to love without losing everything.
There were still things I’d never said.
About my mother.
About my fears.
About the part of me that still didn’t trust any love that stayed.
I never said them because, even at that big age, I still hadn’t figured them out myself.
I nodded at Juwon, and he did the same as I turned and walked back to the SUV. The driver opened the door as I got close, and I stepped inside.
As the city pulled away beneath the plane’s lights later that night, I rested my head against the window.
God knew I was trying my best.
But I just didn’t know if trying would ever be good enough.
1
“Let’s take it again from the top.” I stood in front of the soundstage with my back to the screen. With my palms lifted and a baton between my fingers, I controlled the room with a swift command. The orchestra waited for my instructions with their horns poised. Percussionists were so still that it looked like they held their breaths.
“Feel it,” I said. “Don’t chase this scene. Let it chase you.”
With that, I gently whipped the baton in the air. The first note rolled out, low and heavy. Then the strings crept in behind it, subtly and softly. On the screen, the actor crossed a dark hallway. Light flickered in the background like electricity that filled the night sky during a thunderstorm. I closed my eyes and tilted my head. That had always helped me listen deeply and feel the emotion that drifted through the sound.
“Cellos,” I said quietly, my eyes still closed. “Stay right there. Don’t lose it.”
They adjusted instinctively.
