We both laughed, then my smile faded as I looked down at Scarlett, now babbling and pressing her drool-covered hands on my thigh. “You know something?” I said quietly. “She lights up when he walks in. If he doesn’t pick her up fast enough, she goes into a full-blown cry. He’s a part of her life now.”
I picked her up and rested her on my lap. She curled into me as I rocked her side to side. “If he leaves again, I’ll have to hold it together. Not just for me. For her, too.”
Zahara looked at me but said nothing. Sometimes I wondered if people still thought I was spiraling from the bank robbery. But this wasn’t anxiety. This wasn’t overthinking. This was real life; a life I’d already lived once, and I was about to live it again.
“So, I just need a day or two. Okay? I’ll check in with him, so don’t worry.”
“Okay, bestie,” she smiled.
After dinner and a hot shower, I finally got a moment to myself and I settled into Jahsir’s old room. A flood of memories hit me as I sat on his bed. The mattress still dipped the sameon one side. Still squeaky. I laughed, thinking about sneaking around with him. We tried to be quiet, but that mattress was a dead giveaway every time.
I shuddered, thinking about how I used to act as a teen. I’d be damned if Scarlett pulled the same stunts. She was fast asleep, so I got up and started looking around. His closet was packed with shoeboxes and worn jerseys. A box labeled “clutter” sat on the floor, and I went through it.
Jahsir was such a lame. Old movie tickets, a baseball glove, and a signed bat. He definitely had a complex back then, caught between who his mother wanted him to be and who he really was. Ms. Jemma did everything she could to keep him away from his father’s side of the family, but he still found ways to sneak off with them. He was an artsy nerd by day and a street hustla by night. Before we knew it, street life took over.
I reached past the sports stuff and saw it. That caricature we got drawn at the carnival six years ago. Still in the plastic sleeve the artist gave us. My eyes and lips were exaggerated. So was his hair. But I loved it. That whole day was one of the best of my life. We spent the entire day at the Calhoun Heights Carnival. Later that night, he became my first.
And then I saw my girl, Mrs. Truffle Butter.
“Mrs. Truffle Butter,” I squealed, picking up the stuffed rhino he won for me. I gave her a sniff and she still smelled like Juniper Breeze and Love Spell.
I sprayed her with both my favorite scents and dared Jah to keep her in his room. Told him if any girl came through, she’d know he belonged to somebody. I was crazy about Jah. Still am. And that’s what makes all of this feel so heavy now. I took another whiff of Mrs. Truffle Butter and brought her to the bed with me. Sighing, I sent him a text. I wasn’t ready for a fight, so I tried to avoid one.
Me: I’m not coming home tonight. Scarlett and I are safe.
Jah Bae: Where are you? I'm coming to get you.
Me: No you’re not. I need time to think. Please just respect and understand that.
Jah Bae: Am I missing something? What’s the problem?
Me: Whatever the problem is, space is the solution. Scarlett and I are safe. We’re good. I don’t need you to pick her up from daycare or anything. Just give me a couple days.
He never responded. Which meant he was pissed. I cared, but at the same time, I didn’t. I just needed to think. He’d have to deal with that.
The next day,I was at the boutique. My little Bluetooth speaker was playing old schoolhouse music. Normally, I’d go for someone like Jhene Aiko, but she would’ve had me crying in the fabric. Today wasn’t the day. I needed to stay focused and make at least sixty dresses and tops. Now I wouldn’t complete 60 today, but I was focused enough to get started. Summer was creeping in, and Mulholland’s finest were gearing up for their galas. I wanted them wearing my work. Not to mention my grand opening was vastly approaching.
Fabric scraps were everywhere. Threads tangled around my fingers. But I didn’t notice. I had my head down most of the day. Sewing, stitching, bringing my old sketches to life. Sketches he found, stitching in a boutique he paid for. No matter what, I couldn’t escape the print Jah leaves on my life. He was in me, one way or another. I came here to think freely, but every time my mind got quiet, it drifted back to Jahsir. I didn’t have time for that. Back to stitching I go. Needle first, feelings later.
“Tell me you’re almost done,” Zahara said, her heels clicking across the floor as she made a beeline for the green dress onthe mannequin. “Because this…this is giving rich, dangerous, possibly burner phone energy. I’m obsessed.”
“It’s a prototype, I’m still working out the kinks. Don’t fall in love with it.”
“Too late, bayybee. You snapped with this one.” Zahara circled the mannequin slowly, trailing a finger along the silk. “Damn girl, low cut in the front and back? Sis say she not taking no shorts or losses this year, huh?”
“You really like it? I just wanted to make something bold.”
“I love it. You should debut it tonight.”
“Tonight? Where?”
“The club,” she said, like it was obvious. “It’s Friday, Crim. You haven’t been out since Scarlett was born. Come on, girl, let’s go outside tonight.”
“I don’t know Zahara. You’re right, I haven’t been out in forever, and my makeup bag is at Jah’s place. Then there’s Scarlett.” I rubbed my temple, trying to think of more excuses. “And I definitely don’t have anything club ready.”
“You do. This sexy bish right here.” Zahara nodded at the dress. “It was made for you. Wear it. Borrow my heels, the gold strappy ones you love.”
I looked at the dress. It was sexy. Low cut and dramatic. Pre-baby me would’ve rocked it without a second thought. But now, I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t even in the mood. Maybe it could do me some good, but what if something happened?
