Ayida #2
I leaned against the counter and let myself take him in slow.
His braids were frizzy, loose in places.
I hadn't had a chance to redo them since he came home.
His eyebrows were thick, drawn low, his jaw clenched the way it always was now.
His necklace, the one I made for protection, sat snug against his collarbone.
That warmed something inside me. He wore it every day without me asking.
Without complaint. Without pretending he didn't believe what I believed.
I appreciated him for that. Respected him for it and Held onto the feeling when the rest of him felt like he was slipping away piece by piece.
"I miss you," I mouthed at him, pouting just a little.
His eyes softened. He put his plate down, grabbed a paper towel, wiped his mouth slow, then opened his arms to me, pressing his phone back to his ear, conversation still going, but his body already reaching.
That was all I needed. I walked into his arms, letting his warmth wrap around me, laying my head flat against his chest. His scent hit me, clean sweat, soap, the faint smell of whatever he'd been eating. Familiar. Home. Needed.
I listened to his heartbeat thump steady under my cheek as he kept listening on the call, one arm wrapped tight around my waist, the other holding the phone steady.
I breathed in. Let the tension melt for a second.
His thumb found the small of my back, rubbing slow circles mindlessly and instinctively as if his body remembered how to comfort me even when his spirit was miles away.
He didn't say a word, but something in the way he held me.
the way his hand slid across my spine. the way he rested his chin on the top of my head.
It felt like an apology he didn't know how to speak.
I didn't fight it,I took it. I always took whatever softness he gave me, even if it came in crumbs, even if it was borrowed time, even if it was wrapped in secrets he wasn't ready to share.
Because as much as he was lost out there chasing shadows, calling vengeance, hunting for answers.
I was losing myself too. His arms, tight around me, chest rising and falling against mine.
that was the only place I felt like I could breathe. For a moment.
"Where you been?" he mumbled, resting his chin on top of my head, dropping the phone on the counter behind us with a dull thud.
"Madame Laurent," I said simply. He nodded against my hair, slow and uninterested, but present enough to let me know he heard me.
"Stay in with me tonight," I said softly.
"We can drink and play games like we used to.
" When we first met, getting drunk and playing dumb board games was our little ritual.
It was intimate. It was easy. It was ours.
The place our love lived before all the darkness and gun smoke.
He didn't answer, so I leaned back, tilting my face up, letting my bottom lip poke out in that pout he always pretended he hated.
He looked at me then finally nodded. Relief loosened something in my chest. "Only if you make that pasta salad," he said, his voice low, the corner of his mouth twitching. I giggled, nodding. "I'll make it."
"You head to the grocery store and get what you need.
" His tone shifted, slipping back into business.
"I need to meet up with my bruddas. I'll meet you back here.
" My smile faded. I stepped out of his arms. "Why can't you go to the store with me?
" I asked, crossing my arms, rolling my eyes harder than I meant to.
He picked up his phone again, avoiding my gaze.
"I got somethin to do," he said, dismissive.
"I'm sick of this shit, Noles. For real.
" The words slipped out before I could swallow them down.
I turned, snatching my keys off the counter, more hurt than angry, more tired than anything else.
I walked toward the door, but his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. "Wassam, Yiyi?
" he said, frowning. "Who you talkin to like dat?” I almost folded knowing he was right.
I didn't talk to him like that, ever. But I was irritated and lonely in ways I couldn't admit.
"Nothing," I muttered. "I'm going to the store.
" I snatched my arm back and walked out before he could say anything else.
I hopped into my car, slammed the door, and pulled off quick, the tires kicking up gravel like my frustration had its own engine. Before I even made it halfway up the road, my phone rang a call coming through from Amina. I let out a breath and answered, putting her on speaker. "Hey, Mina."
"Hey Ayida, just checkin' in on you. We ain't heard from you, but I know you been wrapped up in havin' your man back.
" Her voice was warm, teasing, but full of that knowing only real sisters had.
"Girl, please," I sighed. "I wish." Her laugh faded quick.
"How you and the babies?" I asked, turning into traffic.
"Girl, same ol', same ol'," she said, something rustling in her background. "But why you soundin' all sad ?"
I sucked in a breath. Held it. Let it out shaky.
"I don't know, Mina," I said quietly. "I guess he's different.
" She didn't interrupt. She let me vent.
"I expected him to be different," I continued.
"I wasn't stupid. But I didn't expect him to seem so angry and occupied all the time.
Like his mind not here with me even when his body is.
" Amina clicked her tongue. "Oh, honey yeah That’s in his blood. It’s who he is. "
"What you mean?" I asked, blinking back the sting in my eyes as the traffic light changed.
"They love hard," she said. "But when they break?
Chile, they break in places you can't reach with no prayer, no hug, or no sweet talk.
" Her voice softened. "They go dark. Inside they mind.
And they stay there till they get whatever vengeance eatin' at they insides. "
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
"So what am I supposed to do?" I whispered.
"Same thing every woman tied to a St. Jean gotta do," she said.
"Hold on with one hand, cuss a whole lot and pray with the other hand.
" I swallowed hard, tears blurring the road.
"But hear me, Ayida," Amina said firmly, her voice steady as river water.
"Don't lose yourself tryin' to save him.
'Cause once they get revenge. Once they feel like they set the world right again?
That's when they come back." Her words stayed with me long after the call ended.
Stayed with me through the aisles of the grocery store.
Stayed with me when I stood staring too long at the pasta noodles like I forgot what brand I always bought.
Stayed with me when I drove home with my chest tight and my prayers tangled.
After spending about an hour in the store, I finally found myself back home in the kitchen, cooking by myself.
The house was quiet except for the low hum of the AC and the soft clinking of utensils against bowls.
When I put the pasta salad in the fridge to cool, the front door opened.
Heavy footsteps. Keys jingling. A familiar rhythm moving through the house.
When he walked into the kitchen, he had a bag in one hand and his keys dangling from the other.
His shoulders looked weighted and his eyes shifted around the room like he was checking for something even before he looked at me.
"What's in the bag?" I asked, leaning against the counter, trying to read his spirit.
"Had some business out in the sticks," he said, scratching the side of his head.
"Saw a lil shop and stopped. I grabbed you some stuff for your altar and shit.
" My heart tightened in that soft place he still reached even when he didn't try.
I reached out and took the bag from him, peeking inside.
Candles. Crystals. A few herbs in brown paper. Florida water. A small jar of honey. Things only I would care about. Things he didn't believe in but believed mattered to me.
Things a man thinking about another woman wouldn't buy.
"Thank you," I half smiled, the warmth I tried to hide slipping into my voice. I looked at him across the counter, that familiar ache rising in my chest. He held my gaze for a second.
He walked over to the bar area, grabbed a bottle of Patron and two glasses, and came back to set them on the counter next to me.
The bottle thudded softly against the marble, catching the kitchen light.
His eyes flicked up to mine quiet, open in that rare way he only showed when it was just us two.
"You ready to let me kick ya ass?" he grinned, that boyish spark slipping into his expression.
It made me giggle before I could stop myself.
"Noles, please," I said, rolling my eyes and lifting one eyebrow.
"You easy as hell. If I show you one titty you out.
" He threw his head back laughing, deep and loud, like I'd said the funniest thing he'd heard in weeks.
The sound loosened something heavy inside my chest. He kept laughing as he poured the liquor into our glasses, the amber liquid catching the light like honey.
I took mine off the counter and walked toward the living room, leaving him to follow like he always did. I heard him chuckle and trail behind me, footsteps lazy, familiar.