1. Alisha #2
Shante was the type of friend that’ll pull up no questions asked.
You could call her at two in the morning crying, and she’d be outside before you hung up the phone.
Now whether she was coming with good advice was a whole different conversation.
Most times she’d show up with a bottle, some food, and enough bad decisions to ruin your life.
Somehow, she’d still make you feel better though.
That’s what made her Shante, we balanced each other out.
She was the hothead; I was the one always telling her to think first. Shante would jump without thinking, I’d ask questions first. Shante would fight first and ask questions later.
When I found out Deuce was her brother, I thought she was playing, I swear I did.
“Girl, stop lying.” That was my response for a week straight, because what were the odds? Out of all the men in Detroit, I ended up dating my best friend’s brother. Life be weird as hell, but it worked.
For a long time, it really worked. Shante was there for everything, my wedding, my baby shower. The day Brittany was born, , Shante came running into that hospital room crying so hard I almost asked the nurses if she was the one that just had the baby, that girl was a mess.
That pause on the phone bothered me because I knew Shante she always had some slick shit to say.
She never struggled with saying what was on her mind, so when I said something was off with Deuce and she got quiet I noticed.
I mean I know that’s her brother and all but damn it made me even more suspicious.
“You still there?” she asked, pulling me back into the conversation.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m here.”
“You might be overthinking it,” she added. “You know how you get sometimes.”
I frowned. “I don’t ‘get’ no type of way,” I replied.
She laughed. “Yes, you do, you analyze shit like you're a damn detective.”
“I’m observant,” I corrected.
“Mm-hmm,” she teased. “That’s what you call it.”
I shook my head, smiling. Talking shit and calling each other out on our bullshit was normal, that was us. “I just feel like something is going on,” I admitted again.
She didn’t respond right away. “Stop overthinking it friend, but I gotta go. I’m at this doctor and they just called my name.”
“What are you at the doctor for, are you sick or pregnant?” I joked.
“Girl bye, it’s just a regular check up.
” She let me know before disconnecting the call.
I looked at my phone for a second before tossing it on the passenger seat.
One thing about a woman’s intuition that muthafucka don’t come with receipts it just sits there getting on your nerves.
Having you side-eye little shit you would’ve ignored any other day.
Then when the truth finally comes out you be mad as hell because your gut been trying to warn you the whole time. I looked at Deuce’s name still sitting on my screen, my thumb hovered over the call button.
“Nah, don’t do it,” I said to myself. I tossed the phone in the passenger seat. If I had to chase behind my own husband for answers, we had bigger problems than I thought. I started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. I had clients waiting and bills wasn’t gone pay themselves.
By the time I pulled up to the shop, I had already shoved everything with Deuce to the back of my mind or at least I tried to.
The second I walked through the door, that familiar smell of acrylic, polish, and monomer hit me.
One thing about the shop as soon as I walked in, it felt like my space, my peace. Ain’t nobody could take that from me.
“About damn time,” Nia hollered from across the room. “Your ten o’clock been asking where you at every five minutes.”
“I made it, didn’t I. I ain’t that late, it's only 10:10.” I replied, setting my purse behind my station.
She looked me up and down. “You straight?” See Nia wasn’t messy, she just paid attention. If your energy was off, she’d catch it before you opened your mouth.
“I’m good,” I lied. “Just ain’t sleep worth a damn.”
“Mhm.” That’s all she said, but the way she looked at me let me know she wasn’t buying none of it.
Lucky for me, she also knew when to mind her business.
‘Cause I ain’t even know how to explain what I was feeling.
How you tell somebody your husband ain’t really did nothing, but somehow everything feels different?
I shook it off and called my client over.
“Come on, girl. Let’s get you together.” About an hour later, I finally settled into my groove.
One thing about doing nails, you can’t be all over the place.
Every set takes patience and every little detail mattered.
For a while, all I focused on was shaping, filing, polishing and making sure my client left happy.
“So…” my client said, smiling at me through the mirror. “How married life treating you?”
I smiled without even thinking. “Good.” That answer rolled off my tongue so easy it almost scared me.
From the outside looking in, my life looked good; nice house, a successful husband and beautiful daughter and I owned my own business.
Couldn’t nobody tell me I had anything to complain about.
Folks only see what you let ’em see. They don’t see what happens after the front door closed.
“I swear,” she laughed. “I can’t wait till I find me somebody like Deuce. A man that take care of home.” I looked down at the nails I was polishing… If only she knew.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s nice.” That was easier than trying to explain something I couldn’t even explain myself.
By the time my last client left, I was exhausted.
Not from working but from thinking. Every chance I got, I’d glanced at my phone, still nothing from Deuce.
Even on his busiest days, he’d shoot me a quick text.
“Girl…” Nia’s voice pulled me back. “You still here?”
I looked up and realized the shop was almost empty. “Damn,” I laughed. “Everybody gone?”
“Pretty much.” She slid her purse over her shoulder before looking at me again. “You sure you good?”
I smiled. “I’m straight.” She gave me one of them looks. The kind that said, I know you lying, but I’ma let you tell it.
“Alright then,” she said. “Don’t stay here all night.”
Soon as she walked out, I let out a long breath.
I grabbed my purse, turned the lights off at my station, and headed for the door.
It had been one hell of a day, and it still wasn’t over.
Traffic on The Lodge was disrespectful as usual.
It felt like everybody in Detroit decided to get on the freeway the same time I did.
When I pulled up to Brittany’s daycare, I took a second before getting out.
Everything that was weighing on me I had to leave in the truck.
My baby didn’t deserve to feel none of that. The second I walked through those doors; I was just Mommy.
“Mommy!” She came running full speed with that big ol’ smile on her face. “Hey, boo.” I bent down and scooped her up before she could crash into me.
“I made you something!”
“You did?”
She grabbed my hand, dragging me over to one of the little tables. “You gotta look.”
“I am looking.” I let her know. She snatched the paper up and shoved it in my hands. The whole page was covered in bright colors. Looked like every crayon in the box made an appearance.
“What we got here?” I asked.
She pointed at one stick figure. “That’s you.” Then another. “That’s me.” Then she pointed to the last one. “And that’s Daddy.”
I smiled or at least I tried to. That little picture hit different. To Brittany everything was still how it was supposed to be mommy, daddy and her. One happy little family. I swallowed that lump trying to climb up my throat and kissed her forehead.
“It’s beautiful, boo, mommy loves it.”
Her whole face lit up, kids don’t see problems or distance.
They don’t notice when grown folks start switching up.
They see love and family. They see what you show them.
And I prayed with everything in me Brittany never had to see anything different.
We grabbed her backpack, told her teacher bye, and headed out.
“Can we get Chick-fil-A?” she asked before we even made it to the truck.
I laughed. “Girl, you already know what I was thinking.” I didn’t have the energy to cook.
While we sat in the drive thru, I called Deuce and it went straight to voicemail.
I frowned. “Mhm.” And I ended the call and laid my phone in the cup holder.
I wasn’t about to leave no damn voicemail.
If he wanted to answer he would’ve answered.
The ride home belonged to Brittany. She talked about daycare and her picture and snack time.
And about some little boy that kept bothering her.
I smiled and answered here and there. Truth was I was only catching every other word.
Soon as I pulled in the driveway, my eyes went straight to Deuce’s parking spot, and it was empty.
I looked at the clock on the dash. It was a little after seven. That was one long ass meeting, I thought to myself.
“Where Daddy at?” Brittany asked.
“He’s still working, boo.”
“I wanna show him my picture.”
My heart pinched a little. “You will,” I said, forcing a smile. “Soon as he get home.”
I prayed I wasn’t lying to my baby. After dinner, bath time, and one episode of Bluey she swore she hadn’t watched already, I finally got Brittany in the bed.
I kissed her forehead, turned on her nightlight, and eased out her room.
Back in my bedroom, I kicked my house-shoes off and sat on the edge of the bed.
Out of habit I reached for my phone. Still nothing, no missed call, no text, no explanation.
I dropped the phone beside me and leaned back against the headboard.
One thing kept replaying in my head… everybody was starting to move funny even Shante’s ass.
Maybe I was reading too much into it or maybe my friend knew something she couldn’t tell me.