Ayida #3
In the living room, he placed the bottle on the coffee table with a soft clink, then went over to the cabinet where we kept all our board games stacked crooked and worn from years of playing.
“Before we get started, you need to let me rebraid that fuzzy hair on your head,” I mumbled, lifting my cup and taking a slow sip, letting the burn settle my nerves.
He glanced back at me, mouth twitching. “It startin’ to look a lil’ bit like coochie hair, ain’t it?
” I barked out a laugh before I could stop myself, the sound bursting loose like air from a cracked balloon.
“Noles, grow up,” I giggled, already reaching for the comb on the counter.
He came and sat between my legs. He leaned back into me, heavy and warm.
He lifted his cup again, took a sip, relaxed deeper.
I ran the comb through his hair, slow and careful.
It snagged a little at the ends. I detangled him gently, parted his hair clean down the middle, my fingers working from muscle memory.
This was love to me. Hands busy. Mouth quiet.
As I started the first braid, his shoulders loosened.
“I can’t wait till you give me a lil’ boy,” he said, casual, like he was talking about the weather.
“Mini me. Good hair just like his daddy.” My hands didn’t stop moving, but something inside me did.
It was like the room shifted just enough for me to notice. Like the ancestors leaned in closer, not loud, not angry—just attentive. Watching. I swallowed. A future that sounded so easy coming out his mouth.
My fingers tightened at the base of the braid before I forced them to relax.
I kept my voice light. “Your ego don’t need no mini version runnin’ around,” I said softly.
He laughed, real and easy. “Nah, for real though,” he continued.
“I want that. A family. Legacy shit.” The words pressed against my ribs like it knew it didn’t belong there.
My chest warmed, then burned. Because I wanted that too. Because every prayer I’d whispered over candles and bones and beads had asked for that same thing, even when my mouth wouldn’t say it out loud. Because my body knew secrets my heart was still bargaining with.
I kept braiding. Inside, my thoughts twisted tight and quiet. If I tell him now, I break him. If I wait, I betray him. If I keep praying, maybe God or the lwa will fix what I can’t confess.
The comb scraped softly against his scalp.
I finished the first braid and started the second, my movements steady even though my spirit wasn’t.
Noles leaned back further, trusting. Comfortable.
Already imagining a future that felt like a knife wrapped in silk.
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead briefly to the back of his head, breathing him in.
Sweat. Liquor. Familiarity. Ancestors, I prayed silently, don’t let me break under this. Don’t let my silence turn into a curse.
I finished the second braid and tied it off neat. “There,” I said quietly. “You decent again.” He smiled, unaware, reaching back to touch his hair.
____
I watched him from across the living room, sipping the liquor from my cup as he leaned back against the couch shoveling pasta salad into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in three days.
He was drunk as hell, eyes half-lidded, shoulders loose, and chewing loud.
just looking a damn fool. We'd been drinking and playing games for the last three or four hours, talking about everything and nothing, laughing like we'd forgotten there was a storm tucked under our floorboards.
"Slow down, Noles. It's a whole bowl of pasta salad in there.
It's not going nowhere," I giggled. "Nah, I gotta make sure I got room for pussy and ass too," he slurred, pointing his fork at me like he was making a serious point.
I busted out laughing, choking on my drink.
He looked so proud of himself for that one.
"Don't drink nothing else," I said, wiping my mouth. "You past your limit."
"Ima have a few more drinks," he announced, ignoring me completely, "and yo ass is too.
I know I got some makin' up to do. Believe me.
" His voice trailed off as his eyes dropped straight to my chest. Right at my nipples showing through my T-shirt.
I smacked my lips loud. "Noles, hush." He blinked hard like he was snapping out of a trance, then lifted his cup again.
"For real though" he murmured, eyes softening in a way I hadn't seen in a while.
"I know shit been iffy with me and you. I know my head been all fucked up and I ain't been able to give you all of me like I should. " His voice cracked a little.
"I love you, baeeebbyy," he said, dragging the words out just how he always did when he meant them.
"I need you to know that. This shit just temporary.
" He poured himself more liquor like he was scared to sit still in his own vulnerability.
I didn't respond. I just watched him. Watched the way guilt sat on his shoulders.
Watched the way the liquor loosened the truth in his mouth.
I was glad he was able to be accountable but it didn't change the ache sitting heavy inside me.
"You wanna know what's crazy though?" he said, sipping from his cup, eyes narrowing at me like he was about to drop something he'd been holding in too long.
"What?" I asked. "Fucked up part is, I think my daddy might've set this shit up.
" My whole body went still. My eyes widened before I could stop them.
"The hell, Noles?" I breathed. "Why would you even—"
"I'm serious," he cut in, leaning forward slightly.
"That nigga been actin' weird as hell since shit changed wit the business.
Timing perfect. His reactions off. The nigga suspect.
I'm tellin' you, Yi." He took another sip, watching me over the rim of his cup.
"It's not him," I said immediately, shaking my head.
"I'm tellin' you, Mon Cheri. It's not Saint.
" His eyes narrowed. "Like you held that nigga hand and know," he challenged, "or you just feel like you know? "
I rolled my eyes so hard it made my head tilt.
"I did not read your damn daddy, Noles. I would've told you if I did.
" He looked unconvinced, so I added, loud and clear, "Just know it isn't him.
" I waved him off. "And crazy as your damn mama is, you really think I wanna read him?
Why would I take on that headache?" I said, making him break into a laugh.
"They told me Mama showed her ass at that hospital when she found out about us being married," he chuckled, shaking his head.
"I was all kind of evil witch bitches," I giggled, sipping my drink.
"What's up with her though? She really don't like me forreal," I said, slurring just a touch.
"Mama don't like nobody," he said, smacking his lips.
He leaned back, stretching his legs out, eyes dragging slowly over me like he was seeing me for the first time tonight.
Something thick shifted in the room. His eyes dipped to my thighs, slow and heavy.
Then up to my lips. Then back to my chest. And my whole body heated under the weight of it.
He licked his bottom lip, voice dropping low.
"You drunk yet?" I swallowed, heat curling in my belly. "Little bit," I whispered.
He leaned forward, eyes locked on mine like he could see straight through my spirit.
"Come here, Yiyi," he murmured, arms open, voice low enough to drag heat down my spine.
I took one slow sip from my glass, letting the liquor burn the back of my throat, then sat it down.
My eyes never left his. I crawled toward him across the thick rug, my heartbeat thudding in my ears, my thighs warm, every inch of me tuned to the way he watched me.
His gaze followed my movements like he was studying me.
When I reached him, he didn't wait. He leaned down, grabbed me around the neck with that warm, heavy hand of his, and pulled me straight into him, his grip firm enough to tell me exactly where he wanted me.
His lips brushed mine first, soft for a split second.
Then he licked across my bottom lip slow, claiming the whole moment with one motion.
My mouth opened on instinct. He pushed his tongue inside, kissing me deep and hungry, like he'd been starving for me and finally had the nerve to admit it.
The kind of kiss that made my breath catch and my hips move without my permission, my body remembering the rhythm of him even when my mind was still catching up.
I melted before I could stop myself. He pulled me closer, breath mixing with mine, hands sliding down my waist as he leaned back.
My body followed like it was tied to his by string.
Before I even realized what happened, I was straddling him.
one knee on each side of his thighs, my palms flat against his chest. Our mouths stayed locked, our breaths tangled, the liquor and desire blending between our lips.
His hands gripped my hips, pulling me down against him until I could feel every inch of how ready he was for me.