Our fingers brush when she reaches out to take it and I think I hear Mom whispering to God, reassuring him I’ll be careful with her.
She opens her lips and I swipe my hand underneath them to catch the wad of gum she spits out. Her nose wrinkles when it lands in my hand, but that doesn’t stop her from popping the candy in her mouth.
“She threw up her breakfast this morning,” she says between chews while leaning against the counter.
“Damn. What you cook this time?”
“Bacon, eggs, and she said she wanted grits, so I cooked ‘em.” She shrugs. “Oh, and I gave her an Ensure.”
“The regular Ensure or the clear joint?”
“There’s different ones?”
“Yeahhh, kid.” I smile at the thoughtful expression on her round face.
My fingers tingle with the same want from the night in her driveway. They want to grip her nose and wiggle it, then run across her waist and squeeze it for making me work so hard just to get what I want. They’re even trembling from being out of commission for so long.
She cocks her head to the side. “What it taste like?”
“Nasty asfuck.”
She chokes out a laugh that makes her cheeks bunch up. “You really think she gon' drink it if it’s nasty?”
I remember the lonely piece of Chick-O-Stick in my hand and pop it in my mouth to stop myself from leaning over the counter to pull her closer. The sweetness I told her I liked calms my trembling fingers just for that moment and I make them focus on the hot, sticky piece of gum she let me have.
“It’s easier on her stomach than bacon, eggs, and grits,” I reply between chews. “Clear Ensure and Zofran for nausea is like Jordan and Pippen—hellaelite. Give her some toast with it. She’ll like it because it won’t make her feel like shit.”
“You mean elite like Kobe and AW, but I get it.”
“Oh, so that’s the Ason Williams you like? Got it.” I wink.
She rolls her eyes. “How you know all this stuff, anyway?”
I can tell her that Mom taught me more about the intricacies of a sick body than a doctor ever did and that things get worse before they get better.
I shrug. “Life.”
But it’s something CeCe has to tell her when she stops drowning her fears in liquor bottles.
“Hm...” She grabs for another stick on the counter, but I reach out and snatch it before she can. “Maybe I’ll ask Marcus to take me to H-E-B to get some when he comes home and stops being a fuck boy. What’s that other stuff you said?”
“Zofran?”
“Yeah, that.” She eyes my fingers pulling open the plastic on another Chick-O-Stick. “H-E-B sell that too?”
I chuckle, pulling the stick out while glancing up at her. “Nah. That’s a script.”
Her mouth widens in a cute circle. “Oh.”
She frowns like she’s trying to take inventory of CeCe’s pill planner from her memory while I take another bite of the candy.
“Zofran...” she mutters to herself, resting her chin in her hand on the counter.
I smile, chewing and watching her in all of her little lady glory with the weight of CeCe’s poor health on her shoulders. It makes me lean on the counter too because I want a closer look at Phat...being Phat.
“Ace?”
Brandy’s soft voice makes Phat jolt back from the counter, leaving me with her half of our Chick-O-Stick and her wad of gum stuck between my fingers.
