Ayida #3
"Why Ms. Evie just came in my house," I said immediately, still half in disbelief, "made me eat, and told me I better be at her house every Sunday from now on.
She even got a lil soft with me for a second.
.. like she like me or somethin'." Chiana burst out laughing.
"She do like you," she said, grinning. "She just got a funny ass way of showin' it. Evie is just Evie, honey."
"Mmhm," I mumbled, pushing my food around my plate.
My appetite was still there, but my mind was drifting now.
"Any word from Nia?" Both of them straightened up instantly.
Chiana sighed. "Not at all. I tried asking Juste, but he keep sayin' that ain't my business.
" She rolled her eyes hard. "Like please.
" "Pierre lame ass neither," Amina added, lips pursed.
"Every time I bring her name up, he change the subject.
" My chest tightened again. I hadn't heard from Nia since the night of the casino opening.
Since the truth spilled out and changed everything.
I kept replaying her face in my mind, cracked open, raw, ashamed, terrified.
"Maybe we pop up?" I suggested quietly. "Just spend some time with her. Let her know she not alone." Amina nodded slowly. "That don't sound bad. I think the kids been at Evie and Saint's anyway, so it should work."
Chiana nodded too. "Yeah. We'll figure it out."
I smiled faintly at the screen after we hung up, my thumb hovering for a second before I locked my phone.
The quiet settled back into the house like a thick blanket.
I was grateful for them. For Chiana's steadiness.
For Amina's fire. For the way they held me up even when my own faith wobbled under the weight of what I knew and what I feared.
Still, when the silence returned, so did the ache.
—
Later that week, I rode with Amina and Chiana over to Nia's house.
Nobody said much on the drive. The sky was gray and low, clouds hanging like they didn't know whether to rain or stay put.
The kind of day that pressed down on your shoulders without warning.
I watched the world pass by through the window, my thoughts drifting between prayer and worry, fear and obligation.
When we turned onto Nia's street, my chest tightened. Her house looked... abandoned.
The grass was overgrown, tall and wild like it had been ignored for weeks.
Plastic toys were scattered across the yard.
a tricycle tipped on its side, a doll missing an arm, chalk drawings half-erased by time and weather.
Her car sat in the driveway, dust thick on the hood like it hadn't moved since her world stopped turning.
"This don't feel right," Amina muttered under her breath.
We knocked. Three times. No answer. Chiana bent down, lifted the welcome mat, and found the spare key tucked underneath like she'd known it would be there.
The door creaked open. The smell hit me first. Stale cigarette smoke.
Something sour and sad. The house was dim, curtains drawn tight like the sun wasn't welcome inside.
Clothes were piled high on both couches, unfolded and untouched.
The counters were cluttered with mail, half-empty bottles, dishes that had been sitting too long.
The air felt heavy, thick with grief, with fear, with thoughts left unfinished.
This house was grieving.
We moved through it slowly, our footsteps soft like we were walking through a church after a funeral. Upstairs, the master bedroom looked slept-in but restless. the comforter twisted and ruffled, like someone had been tossing and turning without ever finding rest.
Then we heard the bathroom. The faint sound of water dripping.
Nia sat on the edge of the tub, robe slipping off one shoulder, a cigarette hanging from her fingers.
It wasn't even lit. Her pixie cut that was always sharp, always styled, was wild and uneven, strands sticking up like she hadn't looked in a mirror in days. She looked hollow.
Her eyes were sunken, dark circles carved deep beneath them. Her shoulders slumped forward like she was carrying something far too heavy alone. The bathwater had long gone cold, untouched. As long as I'd known her, I had never seen Nia like this. "Oh, honey," Chiana breathed, rushing to her side.
Nia didn't push us away. She collapsed into us instead.
The sob that tore from her chest was raw and unfiltered, loud enough that it felt like it rattled the walls.
A sound that came from someplace deep, someplace wounded.
"Everything is so fucked up," she choked.
"Saint and Evie been keepin' the kids until we figure shit out.
I ain't seen Jules. He won't answer me. Nash won't leave me alone.
" Her hand shook as she brought the cigarette to her lips again, forgetting it wasn't lit. "I just wanna fuckin' die."
My stomach dropped.
"Nia," Amina said sharply, grabbing her hands. "Don't say that." I stayed quiet.
Because sometimes pain needed space before it could be answered.
I watched her chest rise and fall, fast and uneven.
I could feel the house breathing with her.
I placed my hand over her heart, feeling it race beneath my palm.
She let out a broken laugh, the sound sharp and jagged like glass scraping against concrete.
"Boy, it's funny how I can't seem to get away from this fucked up hand I was dealt.
" Her words hung in the air, heavy and sour, settling into the corners of the bathroom like smoke.
I watched her shoulders shake, watched her chest cave inward as if she were folding in on herself piece by piece.
I closed my eyes briefly. Bon Dieu, I prayed silently, the words instinctive, ancestral. Before I could speak the sound of the front door opening downstairs cut through the thick air.
Footsteps followed firm and commanding, I didn't have to look to know it was Ms. Evie.
The bathroom door swung open wider, and there she stood, purse tucked high on her arm, nose already turned up like she'd walked into something offensive on principle alone.
"It fuckin' stank in here," she announced flatly, eyes sweeping the room.
"Nia, that better not be your ass I'm smellin'. "
For half a second, I thought Chiana might lose her mind.
"Ms. Evie, that's low down and rude as hell," Chiana snapped, standing up.
She crossed her arms, posture defensive, protective.
Evie didn't even blink. "Out my face, Chiana," she said, waving a dismissive hand without turning. "I'm not talkin' to you."
She stepped fully into the bathroom, her presence filling the space like pressure.
She glanced at Nia once, really looked at her and her mouth tightened.
"Knowin' damn well you don't smoke," Evie muttered.
"Gimme this damn cigarette." She snatched it straight from Nia's fingers, pulled a lighter from her purse, and lit it.
She inhaled deep, held it, then exhaled slowly.
The audacity of it all almost made me laugh.
Nia lifted her head, eyes heavy, rimmed red and swollen. "Where the kids?" she mumbled.
Evie blew smoke toward the ceiling. "Lookin' for they damn parents.
That's where the kids at." That did it. Nia's face crumpled.
Evie didn't soften, not immediately. She flicked ash into the ashtray on the bathroom counter, then turned fully toward Nia, eyes sharp, voice cutting.
"Get up and get your shit together, Nia.
This situation is what it is. Y'all figure it out like grown people just like y'all figure anything damn else out.
But this?" She gestured broadly at the room, the mess, the smoke, the tub.
"This sittin' around depressed, not washin' your ass?
Uh-uh. Not on my watch." Nia flinched. "You a St. Jean woman," Evie continued, voice rising just enough to sting.
"Your hot ass been a part of my family since you was fifteen. You know better."
Something in me twisted. Because beneath Evie's sharp tongue, I heard it.
Love, dressed up in armor. I watched Nia's hands tremble.
Watched her swallow hard like she was trying to choke down years of shame, guilt, and fear all at once.
"I didn't mean for this to happen," Nia whispered. "I didn't plan none of this."
Evie took another drag from the cigarette, then finally her shoulders dropped just a fraction.
"Don't nobody ever mean for life to knock 'em upside the head," Ms. Evie said again, her voice calmer now but still sharp at the edges.
"But here you are." She crushed the cigarette out hard in the ashtray , the sound final.
"And Chiana," she added without even turning around, "I don't give a damn 'bout you cuttin' your eyes at me.
I said what I said, and I meant what I said. "
Chiana sucked her teeth. "It's a way to say anything, Evie."
Ms. Evie paused at the door, one hand on the frame, and looked back at Nia steady. "I meant every word," she said. Then she walked out, her heels clicking down the hallway like punctuation.
I watched Nia stare at the doorway long after Evie disappeared, her shoulders sagging like the fight had finally drained out of her.
She looked smaller somehow. Younger. Like the weight she'd been holding up finally slid down her spine.
"Evie make my nerves so damn bad," Chiana exhaled, rubbing her temples. "She worse than the children."
Despite myself, a breath of laughter escaped my chest. It surprised me.
Felt foreign in my throat. Chiana stood and moved into action the way she always did.
She reached over and pulled the drain in the tub.
The water gurgled loud, like the house itself was exhaling.
"We gon' get you right, girl," she said to Nia, already turning the faucet back on. "Fresh water. Fresh start."
Amina nodded in agreement, rolling up her sleeves. "I'll order food. Good food. None of that sad shit." Nia let out a shaky breath that sounded like it might turn into another sob but it didn't. She just nodded. Just like that, we moved.
No more talking about Nash.
No more replaying Jules' silence.
No more drowning in the what ifs.
We cleaned. Not just the house. The air. The energy. The heaviness that had settled into the walls like mildew.
Amina opened windows. The smoke lifted, slow and stubborn, but it lifted. Sunlight crept back in, touching corners that hadn't seen light in days. I gathered clothes from the couch, folding them carefully not rushing or judging, just restoring order piece by piece.