“Aight,” I say, not tryna hear anything negative about Sadé. “She can be with me for a while, give y’all a break. Make up for lost time.”
Dal rounds the island and hugs me. Sadé’s little eyebrows furrow and she spits out the bottle to holler at her for touching her daddy.
“I’m glad you’re home, Shad.” She leaves me and Sadé in the kitchen, and only then does my baby accept her bottle again.
I can’t think about how if I followed through, I wouldn’t be here to feed my daughter. I wouldn’t get to sing to her, or annoy her mama, or avenge my brother. I’d be missing everything.
The pain’s still here. Muted, but here. The thoughts as well.
But I’m here, too. Where I’m supposed to be. And battling myself every day is worth the peace of watching Sadé look at me like I hold the answers to the universe.
Macy
Myfirstevercrushwas Prince Charming. I was eleven, he was thirteen. We had just moved back to Norhupton, and the Triplets had come over to our house for a cookout. I tried to share my moon pie with Prince, but he pushed me away.
YC saw it and beat the shit out of him.
Later, he sat me down and told me that we’re all family, and can’t like each other that way. But the next time I like somebody, they gotta prove they’re worth my moon pie before I even think about sharing, so that I won’t be mad after the fact that I didn’t get to eat the whole thing myself.
I told myself if I couldn’t have Prince, then I didn’t want anyone, and swore off sharing my heart and moon pies ever again.
Of course, I grew out of my crush, and now I’d probably projectile vomit if I thought of YC and Prince as anything more than my older brothers, but I never grew out of guarding my heart like it’s the Holy Grail. Not because I’m scared of beinghurt. Being hurt is almost inevitable when you fall in love. You’re falling, for God’s sake.
It’s the after. The “what now?” of it all.
Okay, I fall. We fall. We’re in love. What happens when we stop falling? What happens when you die? Or I die? Or something keeps us apart?
It took my mom getting with Uncle Junior to see how sad she’d been for over twenty years because her love died so suddenly. I’m inclined to believe Mo’s body began to break down from being away from Mace, and not accepting that he’d be away from her for the rest of his life. And don’t get me started on how many times I’ve had to pick Mace up off the floor or bring Denver to my mom’s so she could fall apart in peace.
But before all that, what really scared me straight on love was YT and her dearly departed ex boyfriend. Talk about watching someone lose their mind in love.
I shudder just thinking about it.
I’ve dated plenty of great guys. But not a single one was worth compromising my sanity for the after. Not a single one.
Including Shaddy.
But this shit with him, it happened without my permission.
The love disguised itself as safety. Friendship. Support. I let myself lean in fully because it felt good to know someone was there for me purely as a choice. No ulterior motives. Not because they’re family. Not because they wanted to fuck me, or experience me. Shaddy forced himself into my life simply because he wanted to be here. He saw a need for me having someone and filled it effortlessly.
And somewhere between him claiming Sadé as his own and shaving my pussy I fell hard.
I’m still falling. No matter how much I reach out, there’s nothing to stop this. Having a baby distracted me. Recoveringfrom surgery distracted me. This nigga who also similarly forced his way into me dealing with him distracted me.
But it’s always been there. This pull Shaddy has on me. And I absolutely despise it.
Though by my current actions–listening to his Sade cover in noise cancelling headphones on repeat–you’d never guess it.
What can I say? The nigga sucks but has the voice of an angel.
I should be painting right now. After I came home from the hospital, my artist’s block was a thing of the past. I’ve spent hours with Sadé tied to my torso, painting piece after piece.
I have so many hanging up in Dal’s she-shed that I’m thinking about hitting up some local galleries when my muse dries up, or I hit twenty pieces.
Maybe I’ll go do that when everyone’s asleep.
I’m startled into pooting when someone grabs my ankle and pulls me hard across my bed. I don’t know when I dozed off, but the light from the windows is gone, and the dimmed overhead lights make it hard to make out who the fuck is disturbing me.
