Chapter 6 JULES
JULES
I sat in the folding chair I'd pulled out of the trunk and set beside the tombstone, legs spread, elbows resting on my thighs.
The chair sank a little into the ground, as if it knew this was where it belonged.
I leaned my head back and blew smoke up toward the sky, watching it drift until it disappeared.
I'd been home three weeks. This was one of my stops. Twice a week, sometimes more if my head wouldn't quiet down. I came and sat with my baebby and let the world shut the fuck up for a while. No phones rung out here. It was just silence and dirt and time.
I leaned back again, smoke burning my chest on the way out.
I was free, yeah. But my mind wasn't. That year inside had done something to me.
I spent most of it trying not to lose my grip while I buried my daughter in my head over and over again.
Some days, I blamed myself. Some days, I blamed God.
Most days, I blamed her mama. That part wasn't going anywhere.
It sat in me quietly, without moving or softening.
Truth was, I didn't know if I'd ever forgive Nia for it.
Didn't know if forgiveness was even something I owed her.
I carried that weight quiet and never said it out loud, because I never needed to.
Grief didn't make me loud. It made me still.
And when you get still long enough, you start noticing what didn't move no more.
Since I'd been home, we functioned like a family on paper. Same roof. Same kids. Same last name. Different house and atmosphere. Outside of the kids and fucking, me and Nia didn't have much to say to each other. No arguments. No big blowups. Just space, a whole lot of Intentional space.
I didn't miss her the way people talk about missing somebody. I didn't ache for her. Didn't dream about her. I damn sure didn't sit around wishing shit was different. I missed her like you miss something you already decided you ain't getting back. Like a limb you learned to work around.
I stood up, brushed dirt off the tombstone, and straightened the flowers that had started to lean.
Bent down and pressed my lips to the cool stone, just once.
I didn't talk to her. What was the point?
I still fixed the flowers and made sure her name was clean.
Like she might notice. I folded the chair and carried it back to the truck, tossed it in, then pulled out without looking back.
I headed toward Juste's place, the road familiar enough that I didn't have to think about where I was going. That helped. Thinking too much was dangerous these days.
Business hadn't skipped a beat while I was gone.
It flowed like it was supposed to. That was part of the reason I didn't fight when those people came and got me.
We didn't need eyes on us longer than necessary to make them wanna go digging and asking questions that led to answers nobody wanted.
I ate those charges because that's what I was taught to do.
Take the hit so everybody else don't bleed.
I always knew my brother would find a way to loosen the knot. He always did.
When I pulled up to Juste's, I walked around back where him, Pierre, and Noles were posted up in the yard like they'd been waiting on me.
"Wassam?" Pierre said.
Noles nodded once.
"Wassam, budda?" Juste said, pulling me into a dap that lingered half a second longer than usual.
"Same shit, different smell," I muttered, grabbing a chair and sitting down. We sat there a minute, just listening to the sounds of the neighborhood. A car stereo is rattling with bass. Normal shit. Life was moving like it didn't give a damn what you'd been through.
"You remember we was talking about that family vacation before all that bullshit kicked off," Juste said.
I nodded. "I booked the beach house out in Orlando. Figured we’d make it a road trip.
Everybody drive they families. Leave next Friday.
" He looked at me when he said it. I sat still.
On the surface, it sounded good. Too good.
Family. Beach. Time away. The kind of shit people think fixes things. But I knew better.
My family wasn't built for shared spaces right now.
We spent too much time in silence pretending.
Turning it down would look strange, though.
Like I was pulling back. Like, I didn't want to be seen.
And I didn't, but I couldn't afford to show that.
"Shit," I said finally. "I guess it's a go then. " Juste nodded, satisfied.
I kept choosing what made sense instead of what felt right.
I'd been doing it so long it felt natural.
Like survival. Juste kept talking, laying out plans, moving pieces around like he always did.
That nigga had vision, that much was true.
He saw past whatever storm we was standing in and moved like the outcome was already decided.
I respected that about him. Always had. Business was gon be straight regardless. That part never worried me.
After another couple of hours of chopping it up, I pulled off. The sky was already dark, the heat hanging low and thick like it didn't feel like lifting. I rolled the window down just enough to let the air move, even though it didn't cool shit.
When I pulled into the yard, my headlights hit the front of the house, and I saw Nia standing in the kitchen window, shoulders tight, head angled down like she was washing dishes or wiping something that didn't really need wiping.
I sat there a second longer than I should've, foot still on the brake, watching her move.
I'd sat in this same spot plenty of nights before.
Same view. Same window. Same woman. The only difference now was that the silence between us felt intentional.
I caught myself almost slipping into memory. The way that pixie cut fit her face when she first got it, right after Julise was born. She'd been nervous then, keeping her hand on it like she was making sure it was real. I'd told her it made her look lighter somehow. I shut that thought down quick.
Her head snapped around all of a sudden, mouth moving fast. I saw Julise's shadow flash past the hallway wall.
I let out a slow breath through my nose.
They was probably at it again. Mama had told me Julise had been disrespectful while I was gone, but this felt different.
Heavier. Like the house itself was tired of holding shit in.
I knew it wouldn't be long before I had to step between them. That was part of coming home, too.
I got out of the car and walked up to the front door.
Nia's voice carried through the walls, raised, sharp around the edges.
Then Julise's door slammed hard enough to shake the hallway.
I stepped inside just as the sound settled.
When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, Nia was standing there staring straight at me, jaw tight, eyes flashing.
"You better talk to your fuckin' daughter," she said.
"'Fore I run into her ass in here. I'm tellin' you.
" She was heated like she had been holding shit in too long.
"Aight, aight. Relax," I said, holding my hands up.
Not dismissive. Just steady. I didn't argue with her.
No point. I walked down the hall toward Julise's room and pushed the door open.
She was sitting on the bed, shoulders hunched, phone face down beside her.
Her face held the same frown her mama wore when she was done being patient.
I leaned against the frame first, then stepped inside and closed the door behind me, putting my back to it. "What's up with you?" I asked.
"Nothin'," she muttered, not looking at me.
"Oh, it's something," I said. "You keep bein' disrespectful to your mama like that shit cute. It ain't. So what's up?"
She sat up straighter then, eyes lifting to mine. There was no fear in them. Just resentment. Sharp and focused. "You don't get to call me out about bein' disrespectful to her," she said, "when you don't even talk to her. You don't even look at her."
That shit hie, harder than I expected. I raised my eyebrow, caught off guard in a way I didn't like. That was when it hit me, Julise wasn't a little girl no more. The shit we thought we was hiding? She had front-row seats to it all. "Julise," I started, "at the end of the day, that's your mama."
"Yeah, she my mama," she snapped. "But she also tore up our family.
Ripped my whole life apart. I can see it now.
Y'all probably ain't even gon be together next year.
" She rolled her eyes like she'd already accepted it.
Something tight pulled in my chest, quick and sharp.
I didn't react right away. I held my place without raising my voice.
That was the difference between the man I was and the one I was becoming.
"Jul," I said, slower now, "I ain't sayin' you don't have a right to feel how you feel.
But you don't get to disrespect your mama like that.
" She crossed her arms, chin lifted. "Nia been holdin' shit down since she found out she was carryin' you," I continued.
"She took care of you when I couldn't. When I wasn't here.
When I was locked up." Her jaw clenched.
"So you don't get to talk to her crazy because of what you think she did. "
Silence filled the room. Thick. Heavy. I saw it then, the confusion under the anger. The hurt she didn't know what to do with yet. "But—" she started.
"No buts," I cut her off. "I meant what I said, Jul. Tighten up. Don't let me catch it again."