Chapter 10 #2
been calling me nonstop since. I’d told her I’d call her back once I got through at the hospital.
Sliding the green button over, I figured I’d delayed long enough. “Hey, My, what’s up?”
“Oh my god! What took you so long to get back to me? I get a random text message from Sasha saying that you fell down the
stairs. And then you tell me you’re at the hospital and you’ll call me back. But you didn’t call me back. What the hell is
going on? How did you fall down the stairs? How bad is it? Are you okay? Do I need to try and get a flight to come see you?
Like what is the problem?”
She rattled off questions a mile a minute. “Take a breath, lil’ sis, it’s all good. Yes, I fell down the stairs. Yes, I hurt
a little bit. It was a freak accident. I was half asleep trying to take Vuitton out. He got in my path as I went to take a
step, my foot hit him instead of the stair, his yelp scared me, and I went tumbling.”
“Oh my god! Like how far down? Sasha’s text said something about your wrist being fractured. But is it a big thing like needing
surgery?”
“Nah, nothing like that. Thank goodness.” I held up my arm, rotating it to look at the cast once more. “I’m in a cast. And
that means no overseas for me. I’ll be here.”
Silence. “Whoa,” she finally breathed out.
“Yeah.”
“Like you’re gonna be forced to actually sit your ass down somewhere finally.”
I pulled the phone from my ear and frowned at it. “What the hell you talkin’ about?”
“You know what,” she said with a laugh. “You can’t sit your ass still. You don’t know how. How are you going to sit at home
for however long you are in this cast and not do anything? That goes against your very being.”
“Whatever, I can sit still just fine. I work because I have to. I have responsibilities. You know, shit like tuition, dorm, meal plan. So, you know, everyday I’m hustlin’.
” I’d been finding ways to make money since I was twelve.
It wasn’t always easy, but I always figured it out because I learned at an early age I had to.
Mya sighed, and when she spoke again the teasing was gone from her voice. “I know. I know. You do a lot for me, Courtney.
You always have. And I appreciate you. You know I do.”
I’d been my sister’s de facto parent pretty much her whole life. I stepped in to do what I could however possible to soften
some of the disappointments that came with being the child of Shawn and Roslyn Bradford. Two people whose love for each other
was so all-encompassing it left little to no room for it to be shared with other people, including their children.
“I know, My-My.”
“I mean, it sucks majorly that you’re injured. But it forcing you to slow down, rest, and let someone take care of you for
a change isn’t a bad thing.”
She wasn’t completely wrong. Slowing down wasn’t something I knew how to do. I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t have
someone depending on me for something, whether it was something as basic as making sure dinner was on the table or forging
one of the parent’s signatures on a permission slip, or paying for a field trip. As time went on, responsibilities compounded,
so slowing down . . . it was a foreign concept.
I craned my neck back to look at Sasha as she stood in the fridge, drumming her fingers on the open doors. As was letting
someone take care of me. “Sasha is here, she’s preparing me something to eat as we speak.”
“That’s good. She needs to make that bomb-ass pasta for you.”
“What bomb-ass pasta?”
“You haven’t had her pasta?”
“I didn’t know she had a pasta for me to have.”
“What the hell, Courtney? How’s that possible?”
That was a very good question. When we’d been looking for houses, Sasha had been very particular about the features she’d wanted in the kitchen.
A gas stove with an actual vent hood and a pot filler—that was the hardest damn thing to find.
We—well, she searched until she found what she wanted and in the time we’d been here I couldn’t recall her cooking a single damn meal.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure if she could cook.
“Sash, what’s this pasta Mya’s talking about?”
She slowly closed the fridge and turned to look at me. “Whatdya mean?”
“I don’t know. Mya says you have some sort of bomb-ass pasta. You cooked or you picked it up from somewhere?”
“I made it.”
“So how come I haven’t had it?”
She tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Because you weren’t here.”
The attitude coloring her words grated on me. “When has Mya been here when I wasn’t? And since when do you cook?”
“Thanksgiving, last year,” Mya said, reminding me she was on the phone. “Remember I was supposed to go home . . .”
She let the statement trail off. I picked up on the change in tone as soon as she mentioned home. Our parents had done a whole
song and dance, guilting her about not seeing her for a while, and when she’d finally caved and said she’d visit, they’d decided
instead to go on a fucking cruise. “It was too good of a deal to pass up,” they’d said. “You understand, right?” “We’ll catch up another time.” Letting her down once again, as was their history. Their wants and needs always came first.
I remembered her tearful phone call, more upset with herself for believing them.
I was in Italy and had opted to not fly back for the short break—which Sasha had been pissed about, but I told Mya I’d get her a ticket so she could go to Atlanta and spend the holiday with Sasha and her family.
Mya had made a comment about wishing I was going to be around as well for the holiday, and while her statement hadn’t been as snarky as Sasha’s, it’d still felt like I was getting it from both sides.
Sasha and I had our issues, but she cared about Mya as much as I did and enjoyed having a sister since she’d been an only
child. I was thankful that Mya had a place to go so she wouldn’t be alone. To me, Mya going to Atlanta for Thanksgiving seemed
like a win-win for them. I wasn’t going to be there, but they would have each other. Problem of loneliness solved.
But Sasha’s snide comment about me not being here still stung. I cut my eyes over at my wife, who was leaning against the
counter, arms still crossed and lips pressed tightly together. “I’m glad y’all had a good time together. I’m gonna go, My,
I’m tired.”
“Oh. Okay. You sure you’re good and I don’t need to come down?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I eased off the couch after ending the call. “I’m gonna go lie down.”
“You still need to eat.”
I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”
Sasha didn’t say anything else as I headed for the stairs. I worked as much as I did for her, hell, for both of them. Would
I have rather been here to hang with my sister when she was upset? Yes, but I couldn’t, so I provided the next best thing,
which was making sure she still had a safe and loving place to land. And Mya being here gave Sasha something to focus on instead
of the fact that I wasn’t.
I was doing the best I could, and it still wasn’t enough.