She was still there - her fingers pressing against his chest, her cheek on his shoulder.
“I clicked my heels three times,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m taking us home.”
His throat made a sound, but it wasn’t a word - just pain.
Her hand slid up and brushed hair off his forehead. She kissed him like a promise. He wanted to reach for her…tell her not to cry, tell her he was trying, he was really trying, but he couldn’t move…so he drifted.
And now he was twelve again…
Running through the alley with Pharaoh and Jules, chasing after a busted Nerf ball like it was gold. They were laughing hard, laughing so loud the sound echoed in his ears now.
Then Pharaoh’s voice cut through— “We invincible, nigga. Ain’t nobody fuckin’ with us.”
Malik blinked.
Except he couldn’t see anymore.
He groaned again. Felt a tug - pressure on his arm. Someone touching him but it wasn’t Aku.
Then arguing.
Not loud—but sharp.
Aku and French.
“I told you?—”
“He needed a hospital, Aku.”
“I didn’t trust nobody! I wasn’t gon’ risk them finishing what they started!”
Malik tried to turn his head, but only managed a twitch. Everything throbbed. He felt himself being shifted. A voice counted down from three. New hands under him. A gurney or bed rolling across wood floors, not sterile like a hospital. More cozy…like a home but not the one in Crescent.
French’s voice dipped low…closer now.
“Damn, son,” he said gently. “You strong, huh? That’s the only reason you still breathin’. That girl ain’t stopped prayin’ since you dropped.”
Malik wanted to respond. He really did, but the blackness came and pulled him again…
And now he was on the porch with his mama.
Myesa was laughing, brushing off his shoulders with a dishrag like she always did. “Boy, you always smell like outside.”
He smiled—at least he thought he did. Then Anthony walked past with a plate in his hand and said something slick. Gran Betty was there too, humming gospel under her breath as she passed behind them with her cane.
“Family,” she said, “that’s what keep you alive when nothin’ else do.”
Another groan slipped from Malik’s throat. His eyes cracked just enough to see a dimly lit room.
Walls painted cream…heavy drapes.
A TV on mute showing some local news.
Aku was curled up on his chest now, knees on the bed, arms wrapped around him like she was scared he’d slip through her fingers if she blinked.
“Malik,” she sobbed. “You gotta wake up. I heard the heartbeat. I need you to hear it too…”
She reached over and grabbed a tiny Doppler monitor from the nightstand, pressed it against her own belly, hands shaking.
