Chapter 7 NIA #2
"When y'all married them muthafuckas, they became y'all kids," Evie shot back, already turning to walk away. "No longer my responsibility."
We followed her downstairs still laughing, the sound of us filling the stairwell, feet thudding softly against wood.
For a moment, it felt easy. When we stepped back into the kitchen, the men were crowded around the counter, talking about something serious enough to have all their heads bent toward each other.
Bottles and cups were scattered. Kids weaving through legs, grabbing fruit, bumping elbows.
"Damn, y'all smell like dope," Pierre said when we came in, wrinkling his nose.
Amina smacked her lips. "Mind your business."
I caught sight of Jules then. He was leaning against the end of the counter, arms crossed, body relaxed but not loose.
His eyes weren't focused on anything in particular, just somewhere past the room.
He was having a side conversation with Juste, voices low, heads close.
He looked present. But not with me. That was becoming familiar.
I hesitated before moving closer, my steps slower than they needed to be.
I didn't know how to act. That was the truth of it.
I knew how he wanted me to act. Quiet. Accommodating.
The same way I always had. But something in me resisted it now, small and stubborn.
"You want me to fix your plate?" I asked him low, not looking straight at him.
It felt awkward coming out of my mouth. Like a habit I hadn't practiced in a while.
"Yeah," he said, glancing at me once before turning back to Juste. That was it. No, thank you. No acknowledgment beyond the need being met, just expectation. I told myself not to read into it. I fixed his plate anyway. Because that's what I did.
I laid on my back in the chair as the boat floated on the water, the gentle rock of it steady enough to lull but not enough to let me sleep.
The sun beamed down on me, glaring through the shades I had covering my eyes.
I tilted my head just enough to catch the breeze off the water, salt thick in the air, the sound of waves slapping against the sides of the boat soft and repetitive.
It was quiet in a way that didn't feel empty.
Jules walked to the end of my seat and sat down, lifting my feet into his lap like it was something he'd done a thousand times before.
His hands were warm against my skin as he pulled at my toes, popping them one by one, familiar and careful out of habit.
"You enjoying yourself?" he asked, eyes fixed on the water instead of me.
I nodded, closing my eyes behind the glasses.
It was easier to answer like that. Enjoying myself felt like a dangerous thing to say out loud.
Like naming it might make it disappear. Like admitting I could still feel pleasure might somehow disrespect all the grief I carried with me everywhere I went.
The boat drifted, engines humming low, music playing somewhere toward the front.
Laughter rose and fell around us. Noles yelling at somebody about holding a cup steady.
Amina laughing loud and unbothered. For a moment, everything felt suspended.
Just sun. Water. Noise that wasn't asking anything from me.
"What you say we just go with the flow while we here," Jules said after a while.
"I don't want shit to feel so tense every time we around each other.
" His hands stilled on my feet. I opened my eyes and stared up at the sky through my shades.
Blue stretched wide and endless above us, not a cloud in sight.
Go with the flow. That was always his answer.
Don't push. Don't pull. Just exist in the middle and hope nothing breaks.
"That," I said, lifting my shades just enough to look at him, "or do you just not want people asking questions?
Which is it?" He took his hands off my feet, then reached for his cup, eyes still not meeting mine.
The pause before his response stretched long enough to feel intentional.
Before he could answer, Amina popped up beside us with a tray of shots, already loud, already grinning. "Time to get drunk!" she yelled.
I sat up, sliding my feet out of Jules' lap and swinging them over the side of the chair.
"Give me two," I said, pushing myself up and walking toward her.
The wood of the boat was warm under my feet as I moved away from him.
I didn't look back. The tequila burned going down, sharp and quick, settling low in my chest like a spark.
I took the second one right after, barely flinching.
"Damn," Amina laughed. "Okay then. “I smiled, but it didn't quite reach all the way.
I leaned against the rail, looking out at the water, watching it stretch and pull and shift without ever asking permission.
Boats passed in the distance. People waved.
Music drifted from somewhere else. I felt lighter.
And that scared me. Because I hadn't done anything to earn it.
It was just space doing what space does, giving you room to breathe, whether you deserve it or not.
I felt Jules come up beside me before I saw him.
His presence always announced itself. He was quiet but solid, familiar enough that my body reacted before my mind caught up.
He leaned his arms on the rail next to mine, close but not touching.
That space between us felt deliberate. Chosen.
"Let me holler at you below for a second below deck," he said, eyes fixed on the water instead of me.
Something in me tightened. "No," I said, turning just enough to look at him.
"I'm drinkin' and about to have a good time.
We can talk about whatever you want later.
It's blowin' me that you choose now to have a deep, civil conversation.
" I held his gaze this time. There was no depth in his eyes.
No intention to talk anything out. Just heat.
Familiar hunger. The same look he always got when he wanted to bypass the hard part and go straight to something physical.
Like closeness could be substituted for understanding.
He wasn't tryna talk. He was tryna get some ass.
That realization sat heavy in my chest. I didn't confuse that with love this time.
I rolled my eyes and turned away before he could respond, walking toward Chiana, Amina, and Ayida, who were already laughing too loud about something I didn't catch.
I didn't look back.
The next night, the house felt different.
Quieter. The kids were asleep, doors cracked just enough to hear breathing if you listened.
Evie and Saint were gone on a date, dressed up and smiling like they were young again.
The balcony lights were dimmed low, city glow bleeding in from a distance, ocean air thick and warm.
We sat up there drinking, music playing soft in the background. Chiana and Juste were up dancing to So Into You, bodies close, movements loose and unbothered. They were deep in their cups, laughing, swaying like the world stopped outside the rhythm.
"Aight, y'all ain't no spring chickens no more with all that windin' and grindin'," Noles commented, shaking his head. Everybody laughed, including them.
"You better hope you smooth enough to keep Ayida happy enough to wanna dance in the middle of the floor in front of everybody," Juste shot back, flipping him off.
"Enough of all that lovey-lovey touchin' y'all got goin' on," Amina waved them off. "Let's talk about us."
She leaned forward in her chair, eyes bright but serious. "Where do y'all see us five years from now?" The question settled heavy. I stared out past the balcony rail, watching the lights shimmer. Five years felt like a lifetime, like something I didn't know how to plan for anymore.
"Shid," Noles said, breaking the silence. "Hopefully, on another one of these flashy-ass vacations my brother put together."
We laughed.
"But nah, for real," he continued, sobering up just a notch. "I just want a whole lot of happiness and love. We had enough fucked-up times."
"I can dig that," Pierre chimed in. "I just want a lil' boy, then I think I'll be aight." Amina shot him a look over the rim of her glass.
"Well, I tell y'all what," Chiana slurred, laughing.
"I'm done with that shit. I just want a whole lotta loveeeee.
" She grabbed Juste's face and kissed him over and over, making him smile like a man who knew he was chosen.
Everybody was talking about what was next.
I was still trying to understand what had already ended.
Amina's smile softened as her eyes drifted to me.
"What about you, Nia?" she asked quietly.
"What you want?" The circle went still. Even the music seemed to lower itself.
Everybody knew the last year had chewed me up and spit me back out changed.
I'd been holding myself together with routines and silence and obligation.
They knew better than to expect an easy answer.
I felt Jules' presence before I looked at him.
He sat back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me from across the table like he was bracing himself.
"Honestly?" I said, my voice steady even though my chest felt tight.
I looked around at them. They were my people, my family, the ones who'd seen me before everything fell apart and stayed anyway.
"To find Nia," I said, my name like it belonged to me for the first time in a long time.
"To figure out who I am outside of the mom, the wife, the grief.
" The words hung there. I breathed out slow, surprised by my own honesty.
I hadn't said that out loud before. Not like that.
Not without dressing it up or shrinking it down to make it more acceptable.
I heard Jules snort. Just one sound, but it was just enough to remind me that he didn't understand me anymore.
The room shifted. It wasn't loud. Wasn't aggressive.
Just... dismissive. Like I'd said, something selfish.
Something unnecessary. Something that made him uncomfortable.
Amina didn't look away from me. "That makes sense," she said gently.
Ayida nodded. Chiana looked at me and smiled without saying a word. I didn't look at Jules again. Because I knew if I did, I'd see that same look from the boat. The one that said you mine, not I see you. The one who wanted to claim without understanding.
I sat back in my chair and let the conversation move on without me.
Let laughter rise again. Let glasses clink.
Let life continue the way it always did.
But something inside me had already shifted.
I thought about how long I'd defined myself by who needed me.
How often I'd swallowed my own questions because there wasn't room for them alongside everybody else's pain.
I thought about Julise, watching me the way I once watched my own mama, measuring what silence meant.
I thought about Jules and how, by loving him, I had slowly learned to disappear without leaving.
I thought about how long I had lived for everybody else.
How natural it had felt to disappear inside love.
Inside motherhood and survival. The ocean moved the same way it always had.
Forward.
Back.
Forward again. No hesitation or apology.
I didn't yet know what finding Nia looked like.
Didn't know who she would be when I met her.
But I knew this, I wasn't going to spend another year pretending I didn't exist. The night carried on around me.
Laughter. Music. Life. Things had shifted.
I wasn't holding everything together. I was letting something new begin.