Thirty-six
Bri
Liem is halfway around the world, and I’m in hell. Worrying about him, wanting to talk to him when it’s the middle of the night, knowing I need to give him space to be with family and feel what he needs to feel while going through one of the worst parts of life.
I’m so glad I had that time with my momma.
It was painful—excruciatingly so—but had I missed getting to see her be at peace before the end, hearing her tell me I would be okay without her, lingering in the calm before the storm of her final moments .
. . I’m not sure if I would’ve been able to forgive myself for missing it.
Missing Liem feels selfish, but I can’t deny how much he means to me.
We crashed together, couldn’t escape each other’s pull, even when everything since has tried to keep us apart.
I can’t tell whether the universe wants us together or if I’ve been placing too much importance on coincidence.
So, I will focus on putting myself in the best place possible to be there for him when he comes back, ready to care for him after his world changes.
It’s been almost two weeks, and I still haven’t heard back about my interview.
This is the reason I didn’t want to tell Liem where it was located, didn’t want to get my hopes up that the stars would align for us so easily.
As I feared, I got all worked up just to get ghosted by yet another employer.
I will find something else. Until then, I’ll worry about surviving Christmas.
This time of year is notoriously horrible for most people’s mental health.
Add in being a virtual orphan, the holiday cheer can be a yearly punch in the gut.
Keisha started bringing me to her family’s Christmas celebrations when my mom was sick, and the tradition has continued since she passed.
Every year, I spend Christmas Eve with her, leave her to enjoy her family’s gift exchange on Christmas morning, and meet back with her and Junie for our post-Christmas resuscitation party afterward.
That will likely look different now that we have a new addition who is not of legal drinking age.
It’s Christmas Eve, and the only presents I could afford were baby-sized and cheesecake-flavored. The basics.
Me: Merry Winter Capitalism Day! Love you.
It’s Christmas where he is. It’s also four in the morning, but it will give him a little laugh when he wakes up.
I’m barely out of the car when Keisha comes rushing out of the house, baby in her arms. “Look whose favorite auntie is here,” she sings.
Without prompting me, she puts Elle into my free arm, forcing me to trade her for the cheesecake.
“I’m so glad you made it, thank you for bringing this, we have a full spread of desserts, David is here, and the ham we got smells delicious, you’ll love it. ”
So cute of her to slip that in, like it wasn’t going to ruin my day if ham and desserts were mentioned. To be fair, it almost worked. “This is how you tell me you hate me?”
“Please stay. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“It is? Oh, well, thank you for the gift. I love it.” I ooze with sarcasm. She gives me a look of disdain that I shoot right back. “Take the baby, I’m contemplating violence.”
“Bri, come on. I want you here. I need you here.”
Even though Keisha did all the work, Elle is Kellen’s baby too, I guess. He wants his friends to meet her, even the one responsible for the last six months of my mental, emotional, and financial instability. “I’m obviously staying.”
She lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“But I’m not happy about it.”
“I know, but you can’t be too unhappy with a perfect ball of niece in your arms, can you?”
My answer is a slow blink.
The squishy baby curled up on my chest, smelling good, does make me remember peace on earth and goodwill toward everyone except one man, yet the urge for vengeance still simmers within me.
Following Keisha up the steps, I take a deep breath to steel my nerves. “I want you here more than him, you know,” she says before opening the door.
“Well, I’d fucking hope so!”
We go inside, and I try to muster something resembling a smile. I must look like a snarling dog because Kellen takes one look at me and scuttles away.
Right past David.
He stands there, his body facing the small circle of people with whom he pretends to carry on a conversation while his eyes stay locked on me.
He’s overdressed, as always, wearing a dark blue suit and a brown turtleneck that matches his shoes.
Fresh fade, clean nails, probably smells expensive.
They should keep me far away from the knives.
Elle stirs in my arms, whining.
Keisha reaches for her instinctively. “I just pumped, she’s probably hungry.”
I turn to keep Keisha from taking her from me. “Let me feed her. You go mingle. I’m not ready yet.”
A flicker of hesitation crosses her face. As if we haven’t been learning everything about babies for the first time together. “You know where everything is,” she says, giving in.
“Right where I left it,” I quip.
I put Elle’s whole room together—hell, this whole damn house—the day she came home from the hospital.
They wanted to paint her room with some VOC-riddled bullshit while Elle was in it.
Instead, I convinced them to let me put together the padded fabric panels and the themed vinyl cutouts they had ordered months before, and afterward, I assembled the remaining furniture myself and organized all their fancy shower gifts as they came in.
“Love you. Thank you,” Keisha says, giving Elle a kiss on the forehead.
In Elle’s room, I put her on my shoulder, get the milk from the mini fridge, pour it, and place it into the bottle warmer.
I’ve done this so many times I can complete most of the process with one hand.
As little as I wanted to still be here when the baby came, I’m glad I was.
Hospitals really do just let you walk out with a little human and hope for the best. Keisha was lost, Kellen even more so.
Under the guidance of Keisha’s mom, we got a three-day crash course in baby care.
I’m a professional auntie now, but I’m looking forward to the day this career becomes a part-time position.
“Hey, babe.”
David’s deep voice rumbles behind me, sending a chill up my spine. He stands in the doorway, hands in his pockets like he’s posing for Forbes.
“Don’t call me that,” I snip. “What do you want?”
“To see you. I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I didn’t know if you were still in New York.” I wish I was, though I wish I could be anywhere other than standing next to him.
“We left months ago.”
“Are you still with that guy? Nerdy homeboy with the pretty eyes.”
“Liem. Why do you care?”
“I’m curious.” His voice is low, his tone smooth and just shy of flirtatious. “Last time I talked to him, he sounded serious about you. But I don’t see him here.”
“I wish I didn’t have to see you here either.” I sound chipper, though I’m the opposite. I don’t want negative energy spilling onto Elle, but I worry she can feel my mood.
“You didn’t answer my question,” David says.
“He would be here, but he’s taking care of family right now. Unlike you.”
He sighs with frustration. “I’m not with her anymore. Nasha. We broke up.”
I pin my smile. Vengeance tastes sweet, but that lady—as much as I resent her—deserves better than what he put her through.
I swear Elle furrows her brow, as if saying, That man’s really trying to get back with you by saying his baby momma doesn’t want him? Chile . . .
“I know, right?” I whisper to her. We all know she’s been here before; she’s a wise granny still adapting to her rebirth.
David leans his shoulder on the doorframe. He’s staying. “You look good with a baby.”
Such a snide, shitty comment, coming from him. “Speaking of babies, how’s yours?”
“She’s good.” His response surprises me. “Myah looks nothing like me, but exactly like my mom somehow.”
“You’re in her life?”
“Of course I am.” His eyes narrow with suspicion. “Should I be offended you assumed I wasn’t?”
“I’m still offended you fucked her mom while you were with me, so feel away!”
“I’m sorry. I really am,” he says again. He shifts his weight, uncomfortable. “If it’s any consolation, the reason she and I aren’t together is because . . . I found her cheating on me.”
My head snaps to look at him. Did he just say what I think he said?
“That’s right. My side piece had a side piece.”
Don’t laugh, that’s mean. I take a deep breath to collect myself. “Wow, that’s . . . awful.” I almost make it through the sentence before grinning.
“You can say it. I got what I deserved. Karma’s a bitch.”
“I’m not going to revel in your misfortune.” Aloud. “I’m bigger than that,” I say, knowing damn well I will be dancing to a club remix of my side piece had a side piece for days.
“This isn’t me trying to get you back,” he says. “I fucked up. None of what I did was right. But I am sorry.”
“Mm-hmm.” Elle cannot finish this bottle soon enough.
“They say you become the people you surround yourself with, and when I didn’t have you with me, I stopped having a reason to be . . . good. Because that’s what you are. Good. All the way into your bones. And I threw that away because I missed you. That’s dumb as hell.”
He’s right. “Is this growth I see?”
“I hope so.”
He steps closer, and I don’t shy away. Weird vibrations fill the air between us. A mixture of history and hostility. He does smell good, though.
Looking down at Elle, he says, “It would be stupid of me to expect you to forgive me for what I did, but I hope you can forgive me for taking up your time. I promise I had every intention of being with you for life. God, fate, karma—whatever controls this shit—knew I wasn’t good enough for you.”
Traitorous tears sting my eyes. “You made me think I wasn’t good enough. You made me think I was broken.”
“You’re perfect, babe. But we weren’t perfect for each other.”