Page 18 of Cooly

“My bad. I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”

A long moment of silence sat between us.

“I wouldn’t imagine you’d turn out to be that boy.” She paused again. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah, tell me.”

“I thought about you a lot over the years. If you had told me in New York, things might have been different.”

"What would've been different?"

"I don't know. But I would've looked at you differently. I would've seen you for who you really were."

"And they can’t be different now?"

“No, unfortunately not.” She sighed. “But it changes things in the life I’m living now. I don’t know how the fuck you did it, but Malachai said I could make my own decision about you. Cooly, all I can offer you is friendship. Real friendship. Not you waiting for my marriage to fail. Not threatening Malachai. If you can’t accept those boundaries, this has to be goodbye.”

I looked across the room at the unopened toys.

“Friendship,” I said.

“Can you actually do that?”

Could I?

Probably not without fucking up sometimes.

But losing her completely felt worse than learning where the line was and staying on my side of it.

“Yeah, Indigo. I can.”

I heard a small voice in the background, and then Indigo said, “Gioia wants to talk to you.”

There was a muffled sound, followed by, “Uncle Chinedu!”

She was still trying to say my name.

I smiled, something in my chest finally settled into place.

“Hey, princess.”

My heart felt full as fuck.

Epilogue

Six months later.

The bed was warm; the sheets tangled around our legs. Amari was curled into my side, her head on my chest, one arm draped across my stomach like she was anchoring herself to me even in sleep. Her breathing was slow and even.

I’d met her through Diamond at some rooftop thing a few months back. A graphic designer. Nigerian American like me. A father and brother who weren’t exactly on the straight and narrow, so there wasn’t any judgment there. She knew who my father was. Knew the name, knew what came attached to it, and she wasn’t scared of me because of it.

She had dark skin that glowed in low light and the kind of smile that made you forget your own name. Soft-spoken, but not shy. The kind of woman who listened more than she talked, and when she did talk, you paid attention. She was nothing like Indigo. That felt like a reprieve.

Being with her made it easier to go a whole day without thinking about Indigo.

Then two days.

Sometimes three.