forty-two
The sky was still gray when I pulled up to Tim's house, Alina heavy against my shoulder.
She was half-asleep, cheek pressed to my jacket, a faint curl of drool darkening the fabric.
My tote kept slipping down my arm, the strap biting into my wrist as I tried to juggle her, her bag, and the coffee I hadn't had a sip of yet.
Tim opened the door before I could knock. "Early bird," he said, stepping aside so I could squeeze in.
"Sorry," I muttered, shifting Alina higher. "Class starts at eight. I didn't want to rush her breakfast."
Tim waved me off, taking the Alina's bag from my arm like it weighed nothing. "You don't have to thank us again. She's family now. Both of you are."
The words caught me off guard, the kind that landed in my chest and made it hard to swallow. I pressed my lips together and nodded, not trusting my voice.
Alina stirred then, little fists rubbing her eyes. Tim leaned down, his voice softening the way it always did with her. "Hey, bug. Lisa's making pancakes. You wanna go sit with her?"
She reached for him without hesitation, and just like that, my arms were empty.
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders, feeling both lighter and lonelier all at once.
Tim straightened from the wall, ushering me in the house. "How's school going?"
I gave a small shrug, pushing a smile that didn't quite stick. "It's only the first month, but... it's been fine. Better than I thought it would be."
"Good." His mouth curved in that rare, approving way. "You'll get the hang of it. Just don't burn yourself out."
"I won't," I promised, though the dark circles under my eyes said otherwise.
Lisa poked her head out from the kitchen, spatula in hand and the smell of pancakes trailing with her. "Morning, sweetheart."
"Morning," I said, offering a tired smile. She'd been nothing but kind from the start, like it never crossed her mind to question why Tim had taken us in the way he had.
From the kitchen, Alina's little voice rose "Mommy!"
I crouched down as she toddled toward me, her curls bouncing. "You be good for Mr. Tim and Mrs. Lisa, okay?"
She nodded seriously, then stretched her arms wide. "Big hug!"
I laughed, my throat tight as I gathered her up. She pressed her face into my neck and squeezed like she didn't want to let go. I kissed the top of her head, breathing her in, before gently passing her back to Lisa.
"Bye, baby," I whispered.
"Bye-bye, Mommy," she chirped, already distracted by the promise of syrup.
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders, feeling both lighter and lonelier all at once as I slipped out the door.
The air was sharp, the kind that woke you up whether you wanted it to or not. My car sat in the driveway where I'd left it, quiet, waiting. I slid inside, tossed my bag to the passenger seat, and let my hands fall against the wheel.
That was the thing about mornings like this-no matter how full they were with routine, with pancakes and goodbyes and promises about school, there was always a moment in the silence after where the past pressed in.
Three years ago, one reckless and irresponsible night with Brooks changed everything.
I left before he even woke up. Slipped out of his world and never went back. That was the last time I saw him in person.
I never spoke to him again. Not to tell him about why I left, not about what came after either.
Three months later, I was on the bathroom floor, staring at a test with two pink lines. I cried until my ribs ached, until my face hurt from it. The kind of crying you can't even catch your breath through.
Tati flew in from Houston when she found out.
She sat with me for days, cooking food I barely ate, reminding me to drink water, reminding me I wasn't ruined.
But even she had to go home eventually, and I was still here-still moving, still figuring out how to carry a secret that kept growing inside me.
When the morning sickness hit, I thought it would break me.
I was still dancing still slipping into stilettos and sequins under the club lights, pretending my body wasn't turning on me.
Pretending I wasn't terrified. I quit once I began showing.
I lived off what was left from the salon saving that I didn't spend while I was in Houston.
I quit the club again a few months in, once I started showing.
The day Alina was born, everything I thought I knew about love shifted.
She was small and loud and impossibly perfect, but the shadow of what I never said to him lingered.
It lingered when I rocked her at night, when I counted my savings money down to the dollar, when I filled out enrollment papers for cosmetology school because I needed a future that didn't look like the one I'd stumbled out of.
It lingered every time I caught her eyes in the light-brown and downturned like his.
I thought I'd buried it all. Thought I'd done enough to keep the past from finding me-wrong address on my license, a new number, no social media trail. I'd done everything short of vanishing.
And then, last week, it showed up anyway.
Cream envelope. Heavy. Intentional.
You are cordially invited...
It shouldn't have surprised me. It still did.
I'd stared at that card longer than I should've, tracing the lettering with my thumb until I realized my hands were shaking.
Part of me wanted to laugh at the audacity. Another part wanted to scream. Instead, I told myself the only thing I could.
I wish them well. Whatever they have going on, I wish them well.
It was a lie, but it was tidy. Tidy enough to carry around without bleeding.
The building hummed with low chatter and the faint smell of hairspray and acrylics as I walked in.
Even at eight in the morning, someone was already practicing nails in the corner of the lobby, a tiny drill buzzing like a mosquito.
Posters lined the walls-smiling models advertising everything from esthetics to massage therapy-and I slipped past them, my tote heavy on my shoulder.
I ducked into our classroom, where mannequin heads lined the counters like a strange little audience. I found my station, dropped my things, and started pulling out my kit.
"You look like you didn't sleep last night," a voice said behind me.
I glanced up at the mirror and caught Julian's reflection-tall, dark skin smooth, locs pulled back in a low ponytail today. He always managed to look put-together without trying, and I hated him a little for it.
"Morning to you too," I muttered, twisting my hair into a bun.
Julian took the station beside mine, unzipping his kit with an easy grin. "My bad, Good morning Amira. You doing good?" He said smug. "Slept alright last night?"
I let out a dry laugh. "Very funny. I'm fine." I picked up a comb, ignoring how heavy my arms felt. "I actually didn't sleep much if you must know Julian."
"Didn't sleep much or didn't sleep at all?" he teased, arching a brow in the mirror.
I shot him a look. He chuckled and started setting up his shears.
Julian had start classes with me the same day. We both were locked into cosmetology school for the next nine months.
Ms. Rivas swept into the room a moment later, smelling like hairspray and coffee. "Stations ready, everyone? We've got a full morning ahead-cutting drills, then theory."
Around me, chairs squeaked as we all got to work. I sectioned the mannequin's hair, fingers moving on autopilot, but my mind drifted-back to Alina, to whether she'd eat, to whether I'd have the energy for the club tonight.
When Julian leaned over and murmured, "Wanna go next door during break?"
"Yeah, okay" I nodded. As I made my first clean parting-and felt a quiet flicker of pride.
By the time class ended, my shoulders ached and my brain felt wrung out. But I'd done it. I was here. I was trying.
The small cafe next door had slowly become our spot. We were in here at least twice a week. We went to the front and ordered our usuals. We found a table by the window, the city traffic humming outside. Conversation slipped between us easily, the kind that didn't require effort.
Eventually, I found myself saying, almost offhand, "I got an invitation in the mail last week for my ex's wedding."
Julian paused mid-bite of his croissant, brows rising. "Damn. That's trifling."
"Right?" I scoffed, tearing into my sandwich wrapper. "Like, why would you think I'd wanna go to that?"
He shook his head, half-laughing. "Girl, everyone's getting married right now. My For You page is nothing but wedding TikToks. Even the president's son and his fiancée are all over my feed. I hope their wedding is nice though and not none of that weird indie shit rich people be doing."
I forced a laugh, casual. "Yeah. Guess it's the season."
He didn't notice the way I glanced down into my cup, swirling the green foam like it held answers. He didn't see how hard I had to breathe past the sudden knot in my chest.
Julian took another bite of his sandwich, oblivious to the way my stomach twisted. "Anyway," he said around a mouthful, "you think you're ready for that practical next week? I'm kind of nervous."
I latched onto the subject change like a lifeline. "You? Please. You've been doing hair since you were what-twelve?"
"Seven, thank you," he said, pretending to be offended. "My mom had me practicing on my sister's."
I smiled for real this time, shaking my head. "You have nothing to be worried about. Doing hair literally comes so easy to you I bet you would run circles around anyone in barbering."
He grinned, cocky but playful. "Don't tell my brother that. His ego can't take it."
"Jamal will be just fine."
He leaned back in his chair, smirking. "He's been trying to talk to you, by the way. Always telling me to put a good word in for him."
I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. "Please don't start."
"What?"Julian said, laughing. "He's persistent. You know how rare that is these days?"
"He's twenty-one," I said flatly. "I can't... no. I couldn't. You and I are cool because we're friends I would never date a twenty one year old man. Not a chance in hell."