Session 33

Chapter fifty eight

When Solomon opened the door, his smile was warm but didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked tired, like he’d been carrying something heavy all day and was still figuring out how to set it down. I hadn’t seen him in five days. He’d flown to the Dominican Republic to bring his mother here for a visit to meet me. I stepped inside, my nerves on edge. His place smelled of roasted garlic and herbs.

His mother was already seated at the dining table, a small, elegant-looking woman with neatly pinned hair and kind brown eyes that watched me closely, assessing. She reminded me of someone’s sweet grandmother—the kind who would slip you money when your parents weren’t looking.

“Angel, bienvenida,” she said, her voice sugary. “So good to finally meet you.”

“Thank you for coming to meet me,” I managed, forcing my nerves down. I could feel Solomon’s hand at the small of my back, guiding me into the space like he was presenting me. I took a seat, smoothing my dress down and trying to ignore the tremor in my hands. I knew I was being watched, every gesture dissected, weighed.

We sat down, and there was small talk—polite. She asked me about work, about Ekon and his father. I answered as best as I could without going into too much detail.

“I’ll go check on the food; it should be done now,” his mother said, her accent thick when things got silent. Solomon followed her. I fidgeted with my napkin.

I should have stayed put, but I started overthinking—maybe I should have offered to help. I pushed back my chair and followed them. As I approached the kitchen, I heard their voices, low, speaking rapid Spanish.

“She’s too young,” his mother said, her voice edged with frustration. “Esto no está bien, Solomon. You have responsibilities back home.”

I couldn’t catch everything, but I understood enough. The disapproval, the disappointment. She thought I was a distraction, a detour he couldn’t afford to take.

“Mami, this is my life now. I’m not going back,” Solomon replied, his tone flat, like he’d had this argument a hundred times before.

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. What responsibilities? Was it another woman? Something else? I backed away. I went back to my seat, plastering on the biggest, fakest smile I could muster when they came out of the kitchen, acting like I hadn’t just heard him and his mother.

Dinner went on; the food was perfect—Dominican—but I barely tasted it. I kept replaying their conversation in my head, trying to figure out what it meant. Every time I looked at Solomon, he just smiled like nothing was wrong.

Later, in bed, after he had taken his mother back to the hotel she had insisted on staying in, I told him I had heard them. “What was that about?”

Solomon’s face twisted, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitch. He sat up, eyes narrowing at me. “Were you eavesdropping?” he snapped. “Angel, that’s not okay. You don’t listen in on conversations that don’t concern you. You shouldn’t have been listening,” he continued, shaking his head like I’d disappointed him. “It wasn’t about you. It’s not something you need to worry about. I expect better from you.”

And just like that, I felt like a scolded child. Was this how Ekon felt when I talked to him? I was too stunned to say anything. I nodded and turned my back to him. I felt the bed move as he got up and left the room.

I lay there, staring into the darkness, wondering if I had jumped out of the pan with Cassius and into a fire with Solomon, feeling lonelier than I had in a while.