Chapter 52 #2
“Ladies, this here’s my sweet baby Naji. Now listen, she got Tourette’s—so if something fly out her mouth, don’t take it personal. Matter of fact, if you do laugh, she’ll probably beat you to it. Ain’t that right, sugar?”
Right on cue, a tic slipped out—my head tilted slightly, and I muttered, “Whose feet is in the potato salad?!”
One of the ladies froze mid-sip. “Well… now I’m suspicious.”
The table erupted with laughter.
Mama Rose cackled, slapping her thigh. “Lord have mercy, she done ruined lunch for everybody!”
But there wasn’t an ounce of discomfort in their faces—just joy, acceptance, and a little side-eye toward the potato salad bowl.
I smiled, comforted by the fact that my tics weren’t the elephant in the room; just part of the rhythm.
Mama Rose laughed like she was proud.
“See what I mean? Baby got spice.” Then she patted the seat beside her. “Come here, you look like a melted crayon.”
“I feel like one,” I muttered, flopping down with a dramatic sigh. “There’s no reason it should be this h-hot.”
Mama Rose sipped her drink and pointed her elbow across the yard.
“It’s that fool over there—Bobby. He brought them heavy meats. Got the grill weighing down the whole atmosphere with smoke and heat. It’s practically a sauna out here!”
I followed her gaze and spotted the familiar figure of an uncle-shaped man, confidently strutting around with a towel draped around his neck and an air of unwarranted bravado in his flip-flops.
“But why is he grilling in jeans, though?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief at his questionable fashion choice.
Mama Rose rolled her eyes dramatically, her annoyance clearly visible.
“He claims he’s ‘preserving leg moisture.’”
I doubled over in laughter, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably until another tic hit me mid-chuckle.
“Nose said nope! Somebody's aura got mildew!” I blurted, my voice loud enough to draw attention.
One of the ladies, an older woman with a vibrant head wrap, nearly toppled out of her folding chair.
“Not the aura ! Lord Jesus!” she hollered, her hands flying up to her face as she began fanning herself as if she were under a heat lamp.
“Who out here giving off moldy energy?!” another one wheezed, struggling to catch her breath between fits of laughter.
Mama Rose brought her hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle.
“See, I told y’all that wasn’t incense I smelled earlier. Somebody out here steaming up the block with sour intentions; it’s almost tangible!”
Laughter erupted from every corner of the tent, creating a joyful and chaotic symphony of voices.
I shook my head and bit back a grin, feeling the familiar flutter of another tic cross my shoulder.
I didn’t say it aloud, but I did smell something. It was faint—yet undeniably funky. I chose to keep that observation to myself and instead enjoyed the revelry as they continued to guess and laugh.
Mama Rose wiped away a tear of laughter from her eye, clearly having a wonderful time.
“Baby, we need to bottle you up and bring you to our family reunions. You’re a natural entertainer!” one of the ladies commented, her laugh bubbling up before Mama Rose threw her a serious side-eye.
“In no way am I mocking your condition,” she quickly clarified, wagging a finger like she knew how it might’ve sounded. “I’m just saying, you’ve got that kind of spirit that keeps folks laughing even when they wanna cry.”
Mama Rose’s sternness melted into something softer, her lips curving into a small, satisfied smile.
“Well t-thank you. And I’ll be delighted,” I said.
“Well, baby, we’re going to get back to this game now,” Mama Rose announced. “But you let me know if anybody gives you any problems. You know I still keep a blade tucked in my bra and a scripture in my purse, just in case!” she winked, with a mischievous grin spread across her face.
“Both loaded, huh?” I smiled.
“Baby, I’m a spiritual weapon,” Mama Rose stated proudly. “Auntie of warfare.”
I laughed harder than I meant to.
Renee approached us, stuffing a mini cupcake in her mouth, then she plopped down in the chair next to Mama Rose.
“Mmm… this chair is sturdy, but it still don’t beat that rich deacon’s lap.”
Mama Rose just shook her head. “You’ll sit on anything with a retirement plan.”
“And I’d sit prettier if I had Naji’s little snatched-up middle. Look at her—don’t she look like she wear coconut oil and mind her business?”
I smiled, half-flattered, half-hoping nobody looked too closely at my sweating forehead. “I try,” I said.
“ Well, you’re succeeding, gorgeous,” Renee complimented, patting my back like she’d raised me. “But if I catch you minding too much business, hand me your secrets and your waistline.”
Mama Rose raised her eyebrow. “You can have her waist and you’re not getting her peace.”
Renee playfully rolled her eyes. “I don’t want her peace, Ma; I want her power and a sundress that’ll hurt feelings.”
The two of them were a mess, and I adored them.
I was halfway through laughing at something Mama Rose said when a tall figure started weaving through the crowd. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. His walk was cautious, like freedom still felt new on his skin.
Then my eyes shifted to Ms. Shirley. The spatula slipped from her hand, clattering onto the table.
My own hand flew up over my mouth as the realization hit me.
That’s her son.
“Lord have mercy…” she whispered, before her voice broke. “Baby? Is that really you?”
“Yeah, Ma. It’s me,” he said, pulling her into a tight hug.
She sobbed against his chest, rocking him like he was still her little boy.
When she finally leaned back, tears streaked her face.
“How? How are you here?”
He jerked his chin toward the side of the crowd. My gaze followed — straight to Imanio, standing with his arms folded, cool as ever.
Ms. Shirley gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “You… you did this?”
Imanio nodded. “I did. He did his time, and I decided it was time he came home.”
Ms. Shirley’s hand flew to her chest, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.
“Baby, you don’t even know what you’ve done for me. I prayed for this day, but I never thought I’d see it! God bless you, Imanio. God bless you for bringing mine back to me!”
“Ms. Shirley, you took care of this whole block for years; holding people down even when nobody held you. I wasn’t about to let you keep starving inside while everybody else ate.
That didn’t sit right with me. You kept folks alive with your pots when the hood was hungry—the least I could do was make sure your son came home to eat at your table again. ”
Although Ms. Shirley didn’t voice it, I was sure she was wondering the same thing I was: how the hell did he manage to get him out of jail, especially with the charges he had?
But when a person has money, they don’t wait in lines; they buy keys to doors everybody else keeps knocking on.
I stood there watching Ms. Shirley hug her son like she was trying to make up for all the years in a single squeeze.
My heart clenched because it wasn’t just about her son; it was about the way Imanio had seen her, respected her, and moved mountains for her without asking for anything in return.
That kind of selfless power was rare. And right then, I knew my love for him had gone even deeper.
He was ruthless to his enemies, but to those who deserved it? He gave back life itself.
I slipped up beside Imanio and slid my arms around his waist before pressing a kiss against his cheek.
“That was… beautiful,” I murmured. “You didn’t have to do that, but you did. That’s the kind of thoughtful people don’t forget.”
“She fed everybody else’s kids when she could barely feed her own. All I did was make sure she got a piece of that life back.”
“That’s love, baby,” I said.
Later that day, after I’d eaten and spent some time tucked into Imanio’s side, I was handing out school supplies near the front of the block when I saw a familiar car pull up across the street. My heart paused for a moment.
No way.
The driver’s door opened, and out stepped Daphnee—twists pulled up into a pineapple bun, gold hoops catching the sun, a ribbed crop top paired with flowy high-waisted shorts, and tan sandals that said “comfort, but cute.”
She looked around with one hand on her hip, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on me.
Her face lit up instantly. “Is that my girl Naji?”
A soft tic tugged at my shoulder, another whispering at my jaw as I rushed toward her.
“D-Daphnee!”
“Girl!” she squealed, pulling me into a hug that didn’t ask permission. “I’ve been watching your journey like it’s a whole TV series! Look at you! Happy, healthy, and married !”
I smiled, my throat tightening with a quiet ache. “Yeah… married. Life’s changed.”
“It sure has… and in such a short amount of time! I remember when you used to ride in my backseat, staring out the window like the world didn’t have a place for you yet.
Now look—you’re out here throwing block parties like you’re the damn mayor!
” she teased, waving her hand at the tents, the music, and people.
“You got the whole hood showing up just to be in your presence.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “I… I wouldn’t say all of that.
A lot of this is my husband’s doing; his money made this possible.
I just… helped… me and his sister.” My voice shifted, turning somber.
“I didn’t forget you, Daphnee; I n–never could.
I know you’re probably still wondering about that strange phone call. Things were… c–complicated then.”
Daphnee pressed her warm hand to my shoulder, her smile reflecting a softness that made my heart swell.