I slammed my body through the door and into the dirty alleyway. I couldn’t find my breath. Pressing a palm to my throat, I tried to push air out of it. I shoved my thumb into my mouth and tore the nail off like a vulture ravaging the meat of something dead; it was a quick, sharppain, distracting. I hadn’t heard back from Brad about moving into the basement though his background check cleared and I’d messaged him twice. My student loan deferment would end if I didn’t find a way to stay enrolled in grad school. I’d seen the stack of bills on our kitchen table. My savings would be drained within weeks, and that was it, all I had to my name. All I had to show for four years of work.
The sun had gone down, but it was still hot. I went toward the fire escape. A figure was smoking up there. Rah. I hesitated, turning back, but then he looked down and saw me.
“Hey.”
He looked surprised. “We ain’t talked in a while.”
“I know.” I climbed the escape and sat beside him. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. Then he tossed his cigarette, grabbed my chin, and kissed me. I wasn’t in the mood to kiss, but I just let it happen.
He pulled away. “Why you crying?”
I hadn’t known that I was. “I don’t know. It’s not you.”
“Shit. Thought I did something wrong. I’m not trynna go back to jail.”
We laughed. My laughter died when I recalled how calmly Nia got out of bed without looking at me. I knew she was the one who’d folded my clothes on the bed. While I was in the bathroom, she must’ve said to Tristan in that silky voice laced with authority,Get dressed, baby, we have to hurry to your next surprise. Even better than this one, I promise.
“I’m probably not allowed to ask what you went to jail for, right?”
He leaned his elbows onto his knees and looked at his hands. “Nah, I don’t care. It was for robbery.”
“Like you pulled up on a bank with a mask on?”
“Nah, I just drove the car.”
“How long were you in there?”
“Six years.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s cool.”
I paused. “What’d it feel like?”
“Being locked up?”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, you locked up. You can’t do nothing, can’t go outside really, you just there doing the same things. It’s your home but it’s not like home. You get used to it.”
I always found him a bit difficult to look at for too long. His slouching shoulders, sad eyes. He was born in Louisiana like my dad. Maybe all Black men born there were a little sad.
“So what nigga got you crying?”
I laughed. “How do you know it’s a guy?”
“What? It’s a female?”
“No, I mean how do you know something happened in my love life?”
“Why else you come talk to me?”
I didn’t say that I hadn’t come to talk to him, he just happened to be there. “What’s that mean?”
“You always pop up when shit goes south with your other niggas.” His eyes were clear as mineral water.
