My chest tightened. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“The man I’m pregnant by sent his personal physician over with anti-nausea medication and IV fluids. I was dehydrated.” She paused. “He’s been really supportive, actually. More than I expected.”
The mention of Amai—though she didn’t say his name—made something twist in my gut. My brother was taking care of her. Of course he was. That’s what Amai did when something belonged to him. He protected it with everything he had.
“That’s good,” I said, forcing the words out. “I’m glad you’re getting help. But are you eating at all?”
“Not really. Everything makes me nauseous just thinking about it.”
I made a decision right then. “I’m gonna let you rest. But call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay,” she said softly. “Thanks for checking on me, Kaisen.”
I hung up and sat there for a moment, staring at my phone.
My mother’s chicken soup recipe was written on a stained index card that I kept in a kitchen drawer. She’d made it for us when we were kids—when Amai got sick, when the twins had the flu, when I scraped my knee and needed comfort more than abandaid. It was the one thing she’d taught me to make before she got too sick to stand in the kitchen anymore.
I pulled out the card and started gathering ingredients. Chicken thighs, onions, celery, carrots, garlic. Fresh ginger root—that was the key. Mama always said ginger settled the stomach better than anything else.
I worked methodically, chopping vegetables and browning the chicken, letting the familiar motions calm the chaos in my head. The broth simmered on the stove, filling my kitchen with the smell of home and memory. I added the ginger last, grating it fresh the way Mama had shown me and watched it dissolve into the golden liquid.
Two hours later, I had a container of soup that looked exactly like the ones Mama used to make. I packed it carefully, grabbed my keys, and headed to the Seventh Ward.
Delphine was on the porch when I pulled up, sitting in a lawn chair with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of something amber in the other. She watched me get out of the car with the kind of sharp attention that made me feel like I was being x-rayed.
“Can I help you?” she called out as I approached with the container of soup.
“I’m here to see Truth,” I said, my voice coming out slightly unsteady. “I brought her something.”
Delphine’s eyes narrowed. She took a long drag of her cigarette, studying me. “You the one from the park?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She stood up slowly, still watching me like I was a puzzle she was trying to solve. “Truth!” she called toward the house. “You got company!”
A moment later, Truth appeared in the doorway wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair pulled back in amessy bun. She looked exhausted but surprised. “Kaisen? What are you doing here?”
I held up the container. “I made you soup. Chicken soup with ginger. My mama’s recipe. Thought it might help with the nausea.”
Her eyes went soft. “You made me soup?”
“From scratch,” I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I know you said you couldn’t keep anything down, so I figured?—”
“That’s really sweet.” She came down the steps and took the container from me, her fingers brushing mine. “Thank you.”
Delphine was still watching us, her expression unreadable. Then she muttered under her breath, “Nah, what type of shit is going on here?” She gave Truth a long, pointed side-eye before turning and walking back into the house, the screen door slamming behind her.
Truth winced. “Sorry about that. She’s just protective.”
“She should be,” I said. “You’re carrying something precious.”
Truth looked down at the container in her hands, then back up at me. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know. I wanted to.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, suddenly aware of how close we were standing. “I know you’re tired, so I’m not trying to stay. I just wanted you to know I care. That I’m thinking about you.”
She set the container down on the porch railing and stepped closer. “Kaisen?—”
Before I could say anything else, she kissed me. It was soft and brief, her lips warm against mine, tasting faintly of mint. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright.
