Chapter 13
NIA
“Shit.” I hit the steering wheel with my palm. The sting didn’t come close to making up for how I’d treated him, or for the look on Ronan’s face when I shut him down at the grocery store. I hadn’t wanted to do it. What else could I have done?
“I’m just busy. Things are complicated right now.”
That was bullshit. Complete, cowardly bullshit.
The upcoming traffic light turned yellow, and though I could’ve made it, I slowed to a stop.
Lately, it seemed I was hitting the brakes in every aspect of my life.
I checked the rearview mirror, a habit since my name hit the federal watch list. I froze briefly as a silver car pulled up behind me.
It looked normal, but threats appeared everywhere, even in ordinary commuter cars with stick-figure family decals.
I turned onto Bailey Avenue, the way to Mama’s house, which was so familiar I could probably drive it with my eyes closed.
“I think you’re part of a system that’s targeting me. And being seen with Birmingham’s chief of police right now won’t help me.” My own words echoed in my head. They were technically true, but so incomplete they felt like a lie.
What I should have said was, I’m pushing you away because I’m now a “potential disruptor,” and just being near me puts your career, your reputation, everything you’ve worked for, at risk.
I turned onto Maple Drive, my body on autopilot toward Mama’s house, while my mind was still stuck in the grocery store.
“This is the dumbest shit,” I muttered, slowing down as I neared Mama’s block.
That was our reality. We were on opposite sides of a line drawn by forces bigger than us.
He wore the badge, and I challenged it. He stood for the system, and I recorded its failures.
Now that they labeled me a threat, that line between us was dangerous for both of us to cross.
I pulled into Mama’s driveway, and through her front window, I watched Mama move around the kitchen.
For a brief, selfish moment, I wished I could just lay all this at her feet, but even Mama’s wisdom couldn’t change the facts: I was under scrutiny now.
Ronan probably thought I was rejecting him when really, I was shielding him from the fallout of being associated with me.
The best thing, the only thing I could do for him, was exactly what I’d done in that grocery store.
Keep it professional. Keep it distant. Act like what happened between us was nothing more than a momentary lapse in judgment, not the beginning of something that could have been beautiful in a different world.
I reached for the grocery bags on the passenger seat.
Tomorrow I’d have dinner with Mama, and tonight, I’d meet Talia downtown for drinks.
I’d keep moving forward like I always did, focusing on the work that mattered, not on what might have been with a man who lived on the other side of a line I’d spent my career defining.
I blew out air. By the time I reached Mama’s front door, I’d refocused my composure. I tried not to wear my heart on my sleeve as my heart beat with regret with every step I took away from the only man who’d ever truly seen me.
I dropped off the groceries and quickly mentioned that I'd be meeting Talia downtown. I wasn’t ready for a conversation about Ronan, not when I could barely explain to myself why it hurt so badly.
An hour later, I sat across from Talia in a trendy cocktail lounge, with exposed brick and lights hanging from the ceiling. A place white folks “discovered” in our neighborhoods, then jacked up the prices so the original residents couldn’t afford to come here anymore.
“Girl, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said for the last five minutes. I literally just told you I’m joining the circus to train elephants, and you nodded like that made perfect sense,” Talia said, tapping her long, geometric-patterned nails against her glass.
I blinked, forcing myself back to the present. “Sorry, T. Just . . . distracted.”
“Mm-hmm. That watchlist shit got you spooked? Because my cousin’s a civil rights attorney, and he said—”
I cut her off. “I’m fine.”
Talia gave me her “bitch, please” look, the one that had been calling me on my bullshit since sophomore year at Howard.
I laughed despite myself. “Yeah, but slide me your cousin’s phone number.”
“What’s really going on? Is it the protest arrests, the watchlist, or something else?”
The memory of Ronan in the grocery store flashed through my mind. I sipped my drink, buying time.
“Just tired of fighting the same battles, and for what? So they can put us on watchlists and tear gas us at memorials?”
Talia nodded. “I get it, but you’ve never been one to get discouraged, Nia. That’s not your style.”
“Maybe my style’s evolving. I’ll be right back, need to freshen up,” I muttered, holding back tears.
I slid out of the booth before Talia could press further. She knew me too well, and I wasn’t ready to tell her about Ronan, about what had happened between us, about how I’d pushed him away to protect him, about how much that choice was costing me.
The restroom was down a narrow hallway past the bar. As I made my way back, weaving between tables, a deep, familiar voice caught my attention. I slowed my steps, my eyes scanning the room until they landed on a table.
Captain Todd Jordan sat, with his broad shoulders and close-cropped silver hair, unmistakable even without his uniform.
Across from him sat an elegant woman with warm brown skin and a natural gray streak framing her face.
His wife, I assumed. I remembered Jordan from our brief interaction after our release from detention.
I knew he was Ronan’s right-hand man, his closest colleague.
Without making a conscious decision, I adjusted my path to the bar, positioning myself where I could hear their conversation without being obvious about it.
I signaled the bartender for another drink, angling my body so I appeared to be waiting casually while actually straining to catch Jordan’s words.
“. . . been concerned about him since that whole protest mess. Ro hasn’t made the best decisions lately,” Jordan explained, his voice low but carrying just enough for me to hear.
His wife’s response was too quiet to catch, but Jordan’s reply came through clearly.
“Ronan flat-out denied any professional involvement with anyone from the protest. I’m worried about him, though. He’s not himself.”
The words landed hard inside me. Something cracked. Ronan had denied involvement with me. Of course, he had. It was a career-preserving move. Exactly what I’d expected him to do when I pushed him away in that grocery store. What I’d wanted him to do, for his own protection.
So why did it hurt so damn much to have it confirmed?
I gave a slight nod as I bit my lip. The bartender slid my fresh drink across the bar. I pointed to my table. “Put it on my tab,” I noted, and the bartender nodded.
I headed back to our table. Ronan had chosen his career, just as I’d known he would. Just as I’d tried to make it easier for him by pushing him away first. I respected his choice. Understood it. Yet that didn’t stop the dull ache spreading through my chest.
“There you are! Girl, I thought maybe you fell in or something.” Talia’s voice broke through my thoughts as I appeared at the table.
I forced a smile. “Sorry, got caught up at the bar. I just remembered I wanted to ask you about that community literacy program you mentioned last week. The one working with kids in the West End?” I commented, deliberately changing the subject as I slid back into our booth.
Talia’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she went with it, launching into details about the program and the grant they were applying for.
I nodded in all the right places, asked appropriate follow-up questions, played my part perfectly while another part of me silently mourned something that had barely begun.
The distance between Ronan and me wasn’t punishment; it was responsibility.
I’d known from the beginning that a relationship between Birmingham’s chief of police was impossible.
I’d known it even while in his sheets at that lake cabin, even while telling myself we could find some way to navigate the contradictions.
Reality had reasserted itself, as it always did. He had chosen his path, and I had chosen mine. All that remained was to keep walking them, separately, as we always had before a moment of darkness and tear gas had briefly, impossibly, brought us together.
After we paid our bills, I drained the last of my drink and checked my watch.
Talia took the hint, grabbing her purse and sliding out of the booth.
We weaved through the Thursday night crowd toward the exit, my mind already on the lecture notes waiting for me.
Just as we reached the door, a voice cut through the ambient chatter of the bar.
“Dr. Price? Thought that was you.”
I froze, then turned slowly, composing my face into a polite smile. Captain Todd Jordan stood a few feet away, one hand resting casually on the woman’s lower back.
“Captain Jordan, nice to see you again.” I nodded, forcing myself to meet his eyes directly. We’d had a perfectly appropriate conversation at the holding facility that day.
He gestured to the woman beside him. “This is my wife, Sandra. Sandra, this is Dr. Nia Price from Birmingham State. And . . .” He looked questioningly at Talia.
“Talia Greene. I work with the community arts coalition downtown,” she supplied.
“The mural project on Jefferson Avenue? That’s your group? It’s beautiful work,” Sandra asked, her smile warm and genuine.
Talia beamed. “Thank you. We have three more planned for this summer, assuming we can secure the funding.”
I stood stiffly, hyperaware of every muscle in my body, carefully controlling my expression as I scanned for the fastest exit. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. I didn’t feel like being social. I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and go to bed.
“You ladies headed out? Let me get the door for you,” Jordan asked, his tone casual.
“Actually, before you go, I wanted to mention the department’s charity gala next month. It’s for the youth mentorship program connecting officers with kids in underserved communities,” Sandra interjected, touching her husband’s arm lightly. I shifted my weight, preparing for a graceful exit.
“Oh, do you have a card or flyer?” Talia asked.
“Yes, we’d love to have you both there. It’s a good cause, and the networking opportunities are excellent, ladies, if you know what I mean,” she added, reaching into her bag for a card.
Was this an innocent matchmaking attempt?
“That’s very kind. Unfortunately, I have a lecture scheduled in Atlanta that weekend. Still, I’m sure it will be a successful event.” I managed.
“I might make it,” Talia said, either oblivious to my discomfort or deliberately ignoring it.
“We won’t keep you ladies any longer,” he finally said, reaching past us to push the door open. The cool night air rushed in, a blessed relief from the stuffy bar and this increasingly uncomfortable conversation.
Sandra said, squeezing my arm gently as we passed, “It was lovely meeting you both. I hope your lecture goes well, Dr. Price.”
“Thank you,” I replied. Outside, the door swung shut behind us. Talia waited until we’d walked half a block toward the parking garage before turning to me.
“Okay, what the hell was that? You looked like you were being interrogated rather than invited to a charity event. And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because I’ve known you too long for that bullshit.”
I sighed, the night air cooling the heat that had risen to my face during that encounter. “It’s complicated, T.”
She stopped walking, turning to face me directly under the yellow glow of a streetlight. “Uncomplicate it for me. Does this have something to do with Chief Fine-As-Hell Banks?”
“Can we not do this right now? I’m tired.”
“Nia. Talk to me. You haven’t been yourself since the protest. What’s going on? For real.”
For a split second, I considered telling her everything about the holding cell, about Ronan’s cabin, about how it felt to be truly seen by someone who should have been my adversary. About how I’d pushed him away to protect him, only to find out he’d denied any connection to me, anyway.
The words stuck in my throat. Saying it aloud would make it real in a way I wasn’t ready to face. Would force me to acknowledge how much it had mattered, how much I’d lost before it even really began.
“Just watchlist stress. Makes everybody connected to law enforcement feel like a potential threat. Even the good ones,” I confirmed as we resumed our walk toward the parking garage.
Talia blew out air, clearly not buying it but deciding not to push. “If you say so. I’m here when you’re ready to talk about whatever’s really going on. No judgment.”
We reached our cars, parked on different levels of the garage. Talia gave me a quick hug. “Love you, girl. Get some rest, okay?”
“Love you too. Let me know when you get home.”
As Talia entered the stairwell of the parking garage, I unlocked my car and slid into the driver’s seat. I sat in the dark thinking. The world expected me to keep fighting, to be the strong one, but tonight, all I wanted was to admit how much it hurt to let go.