“Siah. Is that you, Son?”
Her breathing was no longer steady. Neither was her tone. Emotions poured out after identifying the caller on her landline. I’d used the number from so many respectable places in the world, different countries and beach shores, but never from behind bars.
My surroundings were deplorable. So were my circumstances. However, if I had the chance, I’d do everything again. Earlier. Regret didn’t live within me. Not for the crime I’d committed or the life that had been lost. Not even the fact that I’d made my Aubrey cry swayed my beliefs or commitment to the death of a man who was such a big part of her world.
He wasn’t a man. He was a monster. And, while she wouldn’t understand now, later would work in her favor. In our favor. In her mother’s favor. In my family’s favor.
“How was your day?”
“So much better now, Son. How are you holding up?”
“I’m well.”
Silence chipped away at my lucidity. I rubbed the side of my head, feeling the bricks that loaded onto my chest with each passing second.
Eighteen.
Eighteen seconds of silence.
“It doesn’t matter, Siah.”
Silence.
“It doesn’t matter to me. It doesn’t matter, Son. I love you. You understand.”
I nodded, lifting and lowering my head as if she was present.
“Never question it. I’ll never love you less, even if life forces me to love you differently.”
Silence.
“I know you well enough. I raised you. I taught you well. I taught you how to be strong and how to survive. There isn’ta doubt in my mind that you’re holding your own, but that doesn’t negate the fact that my soul mopes at the very thought of you behind those bars. You don’t belong there. You’ve done too much right to be this wrong.Wronged. We’re working, Siah. We’re working to get you out of there. We’re hiring the best lawyer in Huffington to se–”
“Rest your heart, Mother. Rest your head. I’ll be home.”
“Sia–”
“It’s being handled. Don’t go into your savings to save me. That’s unacceptable. That’s for you. I didn’t give it to you for you to give it back. Especially not now.”
“Then what do you expect me to do, Son? Sit around and knit while you’re there? I can’t. I can’t do that. Wha–”
“Wait. That’s all this situation requires of you. That’s all I require of you.”
“And, Janeese?”
“Mourn. Mourn as loudly or as quietly as she needs.”
“Call her, Josiah,” my mother demanded.
I released a weighted sign.
“It’s touchy,” I reminded her.
“You’re her brother.”
“Anthony was her husband and I’m charged with his murder.”
“She’s known him for less than a decade, Siah. She’s known you for thirty-eight years. Anthony is practically a stranger to Janeese. And, she understands that whatever transpired wasn’t fornothing. Not with you. You’re not that careless. You’ve never been careless, Josiah.”
