Chapter 12 - Kyleigh #2
Jabali’s great-aunt, Ola Kate Shipley was marching down the aisle like Moses through the Red Sea, a fur-trimmed coat flaring behind her despite it not being nearly cold enough for all that.
At her side was his mom, Katelyn Shipley-Christopher.
She was beautiful and elegant in a simple sweater and slacks.
She had the expression of someone who’d lost control of this situation long ago.
“Boy, why you ain’t answer your phone? I texted you three times. You think you grown?” Ola Kate demanded, ignoring everyone else.
“I am grown,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “You acting like my parole officer. How you even know I was here?”
“She tracked your location. I did not consent to this outing. I just want to get that on the record,” Katelyn said calmly.
Jabali looked incredulous. “You got a tracker on me? Auntie—”
“Location is for the Lord and for aunties,” Ola Kate declared, brushing him off. “Hello, Kyleigh. You look well. Time has been kind to you. I will not, as soon as I get you alone.”
Then she spotted the girls. Aziza and Zoriah were standing next to the buggy, clutching a box of tinsel garland, eyes big. Ola’s gaze narrowed on Aziza like she’d spotted a rare jewel.
“Hello, my darling Zoriah. And ohhh. There she go,” she cooed at Aziza.
Jabali stepped in front of her on instinct. “Auntie, chill. We’re in public.”
“Move, boy. You blocking my view.” she said, swatting his arm without even looking at him.
He actually stepped aside. I tried not to smile.
Katelyn sighed. “Mama Kate, we talked about this,” she murmured, but it was the weak protest of someone who already knew how this would end.
Ola Kate walked right up to Aziza and bent her short body slightly so they were eye level.
“Well, hello, little stranger,” she said. “Let me see your face.”
Aziza looked at me. I gave her a small nod, even as my heart tried to climb out of my throat.
“O-okay,” my awestruck baby agreed.
Ola Kate cupped her face like it was the most valuable thing she’d ever held, turning it from side to side. “Tell me your name, precious one.”
“I’m Aziza. Who are you?” my daughter asked.
“I’m the great and powerful Ola Kate. Matriarch of the Shipley clan and general menace to the Christopher side. That’s my official title. You can call me Auntie Ola Kate. Everybody else do,” the older woman announced.
“Everybody else does,” Katelyn corrected under her breath.
Ola Kate kissed her teeth. “Girl, hush!”
Aziza blinked. “Okay. Hi, Auntie Ola Kate.”
Ola made a sound like she liked the answer. Her eyes swept Aziza’s face, not missing a thing. Then she straightened a fraction and fired off questions like a prosecutor in the middle of a cross-examination.
“You like books or you like hands?” she asked.
Aziza frowned. “What?”
“Do you like to read or do you like to fight?” Ola Kate clarified.
“Oh! Both. Depends on who start it,” Aziza answered.
Ola’s mouth twitched. “Good. What’s nine times seven?”
Aziza scoffed. “That’s easy. Sixty-three.”
“What you do if somebody talk crazy about your mama?”
“Tell them to shut up. And then tell Mr. Jabali, because he scary,” Aziza responded.
Zoriah nodded. “He is,” she put in.
Ola Kate threw her head back and laughed, a loud, delighted sound that turned a few heads.
She reached out, turned Aziza’s chin to the side like she was checking symmetry. “Mm-hmm. Head hard, answers smart, little mean streak. And look at them eyes! Yep. She definitely his daughter,” she said, satisfied.
My fingers tightened on the buggy handle, my heart dropping. Jabali went still beside me. Katelyn’s eyes closed for half a second like she was praying for strength. Aziza blinked slowly.
“Who daughter?” she echoed, looking from Ola Kate to Jabali, confusion starting to knit her brows.
Ola Kate looked at us in disbelief. “Y’all ain’t told this baby—” she stopped. Then, she turned back to Aziza and smiled, not backing down an inch. “We mark strong on this branch. You look like us. You move like us. I can tell you’re Jabali’s daughter. That’s all I mean. Don’t overthink it, baby.”
Aziza looked stunned. Her gaze slid to me now, searching my face. I forced my expression calm, even as my heart tried to pound out of my chest.
“You always say I look like you,” she said slowly.
“You do. You look like both sides. It’s possible,” I said, my voice coming out a little shaky.
I moved to her, tried to pull her into my arms as Jabali and Katelyn fussed at an absolutely unrepentant Ola Kate.
Aziza shook her head and walked the couple of steps to stand in front of Jabali.
She looked up at him. We all knew the question that was coming next, and my heart broke.
I didn’t want her to find out like this, in a noisy store with ear hustlers on every aisle.
“Mr. Jabali? Are you my daddy?” she asked solemnly.
He crouched, bringing himself eye level. “Yeah, baby, I am.”
She looked so serious, like her mind was processing, and I wanted her to be able to do that in quiet.
“We should go—” I started.
“That means you gotta split my stuff with Mama so ZoZo and I can get more!” she exclaimed suddenly, skipping back to Zoriah and high-fiving her.
Jabali and I looked at each other. That was it? Couldn’t be it. This moment that I had agonized about couldn’t be that simple.
“Let her have this. She’ll have questions later. She might even have tears later,” Katelyn murmured.
I nodded slowly, watching my child. But she was vibrating with excitement, unbothered by the momentousness of this discovery.
“Now, show me what foolishness you trying to put on this tree so I can veto it properly,” Ola Kate demanded.
“Yes, ma’am. Look, Auntie, I found dinosaurs!” Aziza lit up again instantly, dragging her down the aisle.
“They holy dinosaurs. ’Cause God made them first,” Zoriah added.
“Oh Lord,” Katelyn said.
I watched them go, my heart still beating weird. Jabali stepped closer, voice low just for me.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I told them to chill. She do what she want.”
“She’s… a lot,” I said weakly.
“Welcome to my childhood,” he muttered.
Katelyn came to stand next to me, eyes on the chaos at the end of the aisle—my child, his aunt, his niece, all talking over each other about what color tinsel Jesus would use.
“I apologize on behalf of the Shipley side. Mama Kate means well. She just doesn’t believe in subtlety,” she said gently.
“It’s fine,” I lied.
It wasn’t fine. My nerves were shot. But Aziza was laughing again, even as she threw little side glances back at us like she’d filed something away to think about later.
“Mama? Can we get these donuts?” she called a few minutes later, waving a box above her head.
I took a deep breath, forcing my voice steady. “We’ll talk about it,” I called back.
“You always say that,” she complained.
“Because I’m always thinking,” I replied.
Beside me, Jabali chuckled quietly. “You good?” he asked.
“I’m here. So that’s something.”
He glanced at me, something like pride in his eyes. “That’s everything,” he said.
I rolled my eyes to hide how that made me feel. “Don’t get carried away. We’re still not buying that pickle,” I warned.
“We absolutely buying the pickle. That thing going right in front,” he said.
“Over my dead, classy body,” I shot back.
He grinned, bit down on his lower lip. “Body definitely classy. Elegant. Them curves timeless. What y’all be saying? Tea.”
“Jabali!” I hissed, mortified as I looked at Mrs. Katelyn.
She waved her hand. “Girl, Aziza is proof he likes your body,” she said.
I wanted to sink through the floor. But I realized, for the first time in a long time, with kids arguing about donuts, Ola Kate terrorizing an employee, and Jabali’s eyes sliding appreciatively over my “timeless curves,” in the middle of a Christmas store I once would’ve avoided like the plague, I didn’t feel completely alone.