Ayida #2
"Baeebbyy—" he started. But I was already shaking.
"I know you say it don't matter," I cried.
"I know you say you love me anyway. But what man don't want his blood to continue?
What woman don't want to give her husband that?
I see how you look at your nieces and nephews .
I see how your eyes soften. I see it, Noles.
I'm not blind." His hands came up to my face, forcing me to look at him.
"Fuck that," he said sharply. "How you feelin'?
How your mental? Where your head at right now? "
The concern in his voice cracked something open in me.
The tears spilled freely then, no more holding back.
"I'm tired," I sobbed. "I'm tired of being strong.
I'm tired of praying and waiting and bleeding.
I'm tired of carrying this alone. I'm tired of feeling like my body ain't mine.
Like my womb belong to the past instead of the future. "
He pulled me into his arms before I could crumble completely.
I pressed my face into his chest and cried like a child, fists clutching his shirt, breath hitching violently.
"Ayida," he murmured, holding me tight. "You my wife.
I'm worried about you. That other shit far from my mind.
" I shook my head against him, tears soaking through his shirt.
"I didn't tell you because I was scared," I admitted.
"Scared you'd look at me different. Scared you'd stay but resent me. Scared you'd leave. Ashamed about it."
He leaned down, his mouth near my ear. "Listen to me," he said, voice low and fierce.
"I don't want you feelin' like I'm mad. I don't want you thinkin' you failed me.
None of that bullshit. I wish you would've talked to me.
I hate that you been carryin' that shit by yourself.
" He pulled back just enough to look at me, his forehead resting against mine.
"I hate that raggedy old bitch embarrassed you like that," he growled.
"Hate it with everything in me." Then his tone shifted, darkened.
"But don't you worry, Yi," he said quietly.
"Them mutha fuckas gon pay. Every last one. "
A shiver ran through me not in fear, but in recognition. The same recognition I'd felt when Madame Laurent told me to stop running from sight. his was the man I loved.
Capable of gentleness and devastation in the same breath.
I clung to him, my fingers curling into his shirt like he was the only thing keeping me upright.
"I don't want vengeance," I whispered. "I want peace.
" He kissed the top of my head softly. "And I want you safe," he replied. "No matter what it cost."
We stood there like that for a long time. No words, Just breathing. Just holding.
—
A week had gone by, but time still felt warped like the world had tilted slightly and never quite found its balance again.
I stood at the kitchen counter with one hip cocked, spooning yogurt from a small glass bowl while scrolling my phone like I was looking for something that might save me if I stared long enough.
My stomach wasn't really in it, but I forced myself to eat because the doctor said fuel your body like you want it to stay.
And right now, I needed my body to stay.
Noles had been gone since three, maybe four, this morning.
I hadn't asked. I didn't need to. His nights had turned restless lately, like sleep didn't trust him anymore.
When he was home, though, he hovered. Watched me too closely.
Kissed my forehead every time he passed.
Even learned how to give me the fertility injections, his jaw tight and focused like he was holding something fragile that might break if he breathed wrong.
I loved him for that And I feared it, too.
The front door opening pulled my attention sharp.
My heart jumped, instinctively expecting him shoes, keys, the familiar weight of his presence, but when I turned, it wasn't Noles standing there.
It was Ms. Evie. She walked in like the house it was hers, purse high on her arm, keys jingling as she closed the door behind her with her foot.
In her other hand was a foil-wrapped plate.
"Don't be lookin' at me crazy," she said raising her eyebrow at me. "I got a key to all my boys' houses."
I blinked. Twice. She didn't ask permission.
Didn't wait for a response. Just walked straight past me, unwrapped the plate, and stuck it in the microwave like she'd done it a thousand times before.
I stood there frozen, spoon hovering midair.
She scanned the kitchen while the microwave hummed, eyes sharp, cataloging everything.
what was clean, what wasn't, what I was eating, what I wasn't. When the microwave beeped, she pulled the plate out and set it right in front of me on the counter.
Then she dragged a chair over across from me and sat down like this was exactly where she was supposed to be. "Sit down and eat."
Before I could say anything, she snatched the yogurt off the counter, her nose turning up like it had personally offended her and tossed it straight into the trash sitting at the end of the counter.
"Ms. Evie..uh," I started, trying to gather myself, "no disrespect, but what you doin' here?
Noles not here. Probably won't be for a while.
" She waved her hand like I'd said something foolish.
"Girl, eat that damn food. I know where to find Noles if I want him. I'm here for you."
I looked down at the plate. Collard greens cooked down soft and glossy. Fried chicken with a crust so golden it crackled when I touched it. Mac and cheese thick and creamy. Potato salad dotted with paprika. Cornbread steaming at the center.
My throat tightened. I grabbed my fork and took a bite before I could overthink it. It was good. Like home good. Like somebody cared enough to season it and pray over it before they cooked it. I couldn't lie her food was always good.
"That's the problem," she said, watching me chew.
"You in here eatin' damn yogurt when you need a real meal.
From now on, you better not miss a Sunday.
You hear me?" I nodded automatically, mouth full.
"And you gon' learn how to cook," she added sharply.
"You ought to be ashamed not knowin' how to cook deep as your roots run.
" I swallowed hard, that one landing somewhere tender.
She went quiet then. Just for a moment. And when I glanced at her, her face had softened, just slightly.
Like she'd taken her armor off for one breath.
"This is not your fault, Ayida," she said, voice lower.
"I don't want you ever feelin' like it is.
" Something in my chest cracked. I hadn't realized how badly I needed to hear that from her until the words landed.
Not from Noles.
Not from Chiana.
Not from Amina.
But From her. The tears burned behind my eyes like salt on an open wound, sudden and sharp, but I refused to let them fall right then.
I kept my head down, staring at the plate in front of me, watching the steam curl up from the greens.
My chest felt tight, but not panicked. Calm in a strange way.
Like something heavy had finally been named.
It soothed me to know she accepted me regardless.
Didn't mean she liked me. Didn't mean she approved.
But she accepted me. And for someone like Evie, that meant more than affection ever could.
"That means a lot, Ms. Evie," I said quietly, my voice low and careful, like I was afraid the moment would break if I spoke too loud.
"It really do. I never thought you liked me.
It's... nice to know that maybe you do after all. "
She cut her eyes at me immediately, lips curling. "Who said I liked you?" she snapped, sharp as ever. I almost smiled. "At the end of the day," she continued, softer but firm, "you family. Ain't no cut on family."
Something loosened in my chest then.
Family. I had spent my whole life dancing around that word, afraid of it, craving it, never fully trusting it. My bloodline was fractured. My mama's pain still echoed through me. Even my faith had felt lonely at times. I nodded slowly, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
She stood up then, reaching for her purse where she'd set it on the counter earlier.
The movement snapped her right back into herself, no softness lingering, no hesitation.
"Make sure you finish that food," she said over her shoulder.
"I expect to see you Sunday. I will come get you if I have to.
" I let out a small, breathless laugh. "Yes ma'am.
" She paused at the door, hand on the knob.
"And Ayida?" she added without turning around. "Yes?"
"Don't let nobody convince you that what was put in you is a curse.
People fear what they don't understand." The door closed behind her with a soft click that echoed through the quiet house.
I stood there for a moment, fork hovering mid-air, heart pounding slow and heavy.
The house felt different now like it had been shifted, claimed, marked.
I pressed my palm flat against my stomach.
I picked up my phone and Face Timed the group chat, needing voices, familiar ones to ground me back in the world. The screen lit up and within seconds, Chiana and Amina answered.
Amina was sprawled across her couch, bonnet crooked, glass of wine in hand.
Chiana was in her kitchen, hair wrapped, stirring something on the stove. Nia's square stayed dark.