When I pulled up to the family house, the first thing I noticed was that the gates were wide open. There was no guard in the booth checking who was coming in or out like clockwork because of Mecca’s paranoia. As I looked around, I couldn’t help but see that this place seemed to be falling apart and didn’t have the look of luxury I grew up seeing. The grass along the edges looked like it hadn’t been cut in months; there was grass growing over the fountain statues, and the large letter Q on the front door was not polished and shining as my father liked it. Back when my father was alive, this place ran like a machine, and he would’ve had a fuckin stroke had he seen the grounds upkeep as it is today.
I parked and got out, closing my door. I was about to knock, but I pulled on the handle, seeing that the front door wasn’t locked, which is another telltale sign that Mecca was no longer here. When I walked in the house, my footsteps echoed through the house, and that wasn’t normal either. I could hear a conversation, but it was far away, like it was on the other wing of my stepmother's house.
Pictures covered the hallway of my pops' family dinners, which were all that fake happy shit, and I felt weird looking at them. Like the pictures themselves were judging me. Knowing that I’m the reason their asses weren’t still here.
Once I got to her bedroom door, I pushed the door open slightly after knocking on it twice.
“Can I come inside?”
“Yes, come inside.” I continued into the room.
“I would greet you, but I’ve been feeling weak the past few days. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong. I’ve been so tired, can’t eat, can’t sleep.”
I leaned against the wall.
“Amelia, if you need money for better doctors, I've got you. I planned on coming to tell you that I want to look out for you in the future.”
The change on her face was instant, like I woke something up inside her. A smile spread across her face, not a big one, but enough for me to notice.
“Thank you, Amir, that will for sure help me. Help me help myself and this place. I know Mecca would reprimand me had he seen how this place has gotten since he's been gone.
“Yeah, I can hear him yelling through the halls now. Speaking straight Arabic.”
“Yeah, switching in between that and English, whichever words he felt would get across to us the most.”
We shared a quiet fake grin.
I turned my head toward the window, more to break eye contact than anything, but that’s when I saw her.
A brown-skinned woman walking down the front path, pulling her purse tighter on her shoulder. A taxi sat out front, engine running, and she opened the door and got in.
“Do you still pay the original maids you had?”
“Yeah, just a few of them. The ones that have been around forever.”
“Makes sense.” I was barely able to have a straight conversation with her for looking out of the window.
“Amelia, I just thought about leaving my stove on at home. Is it cool if I come back over here later?” I said, throwing the first excuse that came to mind so that I could get out of there.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” she replied quickly. “Come back whenever you can. The door is always open, especially if there is going to be a good vibe and relationship between you and me. I hate how things went down at the will-reading. I was emotional.”
“Yeah, I get it. I get it,” I said, already turning to leave.
“But I’ll see you later, send someone to the front door to lock up.”
I rushed out of the room.
By the time I hit the hallway, I was in a full sprint. My only thought was getting to my car before that taxi got too far. I burst through the front door, ran down the steps, and jumpedbehind the wheel. The engine roared to life, and I peeled down the driveway, pushing about eighty to get back to the main road.
Because I was driving so fast, it only took me a few seconds to catch up to the taxicab crawling ahead. I slowed down just enough to stay behind so the woman that I felt was my mother wouldn't notice me following her.
Eventually, the taxi slowed and stopped in front of a small brownstone, letting her out as I parked down the sidewalk. She climbed out of the back seat, and her body looked tired, like she’d been working all day. She paid the driver, then walked up the steps and went inside, shutting the door behind her.
Something in me almost told me to leave because I wasn’t ready for the rejection. I wasn’t ready for her to tell me there was no way she could be my mother, or worse, she just flat out didn’t want to be. I shook that off and stepped out of the car and walked up to the door. My hand hovered in the air for a second before I finally knocked.
Knock. Knock. Knock, I beat on the door with no answer at first until the door finally opened, but it wasn’t her.
It was a young teenager with a controller in his hand, headphones hanging around his neck. He looked at me, confused.
