Chapter 7
“I Miss You” by Beyonce
Morgan stared at the paragraph she had typed into her phone.
She had so many things to say, but none of the words felt right.
She was vulnerable in a way she had never been before.
Nothing in her life could prepare her for what she was going through.
It was out of her control, and it had the potential to ruin her life.
I took so much for granted, she thought.
The luxury of health was underrated. Morgan hadn’t appreciated the days she had awakened to two healthy babies.
It hadn’t been something she had known to take pause for.
She hadn’t even acknowledged what a wonder it was to open her eyes and wrap her arms around children who suffered no ailments.
She hadn’t been grateful. She had focused on so much of what she didn’t have, concerned with the most trivial shit.
At the time, her worries had seemed monumental; today, they paled in comparison to what she was facing.
Why did I have to be so stupid? she thought, regretting the discourse she had caused between her and Ahmeek.
She had thrown him away like he meant nothing to her when she knew better.
Jealousy had made her irrational, and she had made moves that she knew he would never forgive.
I said shit I can’t take back, and now I need him, and he isn’t here.
She might die, and he won’t be here. Morgan knew there wasn’t anything that Ahmeek could do.
They were all helpless, but the comfort that entered the room with him grounded her.
He wouldn’t be able to change anything, but he made the enduring better.
She wished he could just tell her that everything would be okay.
She needed reassurance, and not just anyone would do.
Her overstimulation would lead to her breaking point, and for the fight in front of her, Morgan needed to remain calm.
Her mind raced, her stomach churned, and her nerves were frayed.
Too much was happening, and all she could do was brace herself for impact.
Ahmeek’s presence alone would be enough to make her feel better.
His love felt like an answered prayer, and in a lot of ways, it was.
There had been nights when she had prayed for God to take her pain away, and as soon as Mr. Harris had popped up on her in London, he had done exactly that.
She didn’t know why she revered him in that way, but whenever life hurt, if he was around, he became her solace.
When he locked his focus on her, love overpowered pain.
It soothed. Like ice to a burn, it was instant, but just like ice to a burn, when you removed it, the pain returned.
So, he had to apply pressure, he had to be consistent, and consistency was where they failed...
often...because of her. Morgan needed him for this, but she was reluctant to call.
I can’t say fuck his kid then ask him to come rescue mine, she thought.
I ended it. I fucked up. It felt unfair to reactivate their situation after the way she had exploded on him.
Morgan wished she could take back the things she had done.
She had crossed a line in Miami. She had gotten physical, and had Ahmeek been a different type of nigga, it could have turned dark.
She had seen how dark it could get when she was a little girl.
Mizan had shown her that every man didn’t play hand games with women and then look the other way.
Mizan used to rock her sister’s shit without taking pause.
Morgan knew better than to put her hands on a man. Ethic had always warned her.
“A nigga ever move a hair out of place, and I will kill him, Mo. I don’t care if you’re right or wrong, but don’t provoke a man either.
You’re never strong enough to go toe to toe with a man.
You walk away and allow a man to walk away with his life, because if you ever swing and a nigga even think about hitting you back, I’ll kill him. ”
He had said the words so calmly that Morgan thought he was playing.
She was 11 years old, and she had gotten into a fight with a boy on the playground.
Ethic had rushed to the school to her rescue.
When he found out Morgan was the aggressor, he supported her in public but corrected her as soon as they were alone, and he never let up on the lesson.
“You’re never stronger than a man. Keep your hands to yourself and come get me.
If a nigga ever gets aggressive, you let me handle it.
” Morgan knew this. She had been taught this, and still, she had disrespected Ahmeek.
Both physically and even worse with her words.
She was ashamed because even at her worst, he didn’t meet her there. He didn’t strike back.
She had said some hurtful things, and although she had meant them, she could have given him the chance to speak.
She could have spoken out of sadness instead of letting her jealousy and anger speak first. It would have come out differently if he had known how much another woman having his child broke her heart.
But she couldn’t go back in time and change how it had happened.
She had burned a bridge with Ahmeek, and now she was between a rock and a hard place.
With Yolly in the hospital, it felt like the rules of engagement had changed.
Everything she had been angry over felt like it didn’t even matter now.
The text message lingering on her screen had her frozen because she knew Ahmeek’s presence would complicate things.
I know you have no reason to run to show up for me after what I did.
I know I was mean.
I know I was out of bounds.
It’s not fair how I treated you.
I know you’re mad.
I know we’re supposed to be over, but I need you.
I don’t want to need you, but…
Yolly’s sick. It’s bad. Please call me.
Morgan was seconds away from pressing sends.
Words weren’t even required, in fact, because if she dropped her location, she knew he would come.
Or at least she hoped he still would. She wouldn’t blame him if he had blocked her number after everything she had done.
If he were the man she thought he was, he would answer, but Morgan was hesitant to call.
She wanted him so badly. It felt like it was going to take a village to help her through this, but she was afraid of the conflict Ahmeek’s presence would cause.
He deserved to know what was happening. He loved her kids, and if she was honest, she trusted Ahmeek to care for Messari more than anyone else.
This was a family emergency, and blood or not, Ahmeek was a part of their village.
Morgan’s life had never been measured by blood.
Her family had been pieced together by loyalty and love since the day Raven had been killed.
Ahmeek qualified, but he also complicated things greatly.
She knew Ahmeek would come to her if he knew about Yara’s condition, but she also knew his involvement would be hard on Messiah.
She teetered with the idea of whose needs mattered most. Hers or Messiah’s.
When Messiah entered the room and she saw the devastation on his face, she instantly deleted the text.
They were Yara’s parents. Messiah was her father.
No matter what her heart craved, she couldn’t make a move that she knew would hurt him.
She was mad as hell at him. She felt betrayed.
She wanted to knock his head off for lying to her about Bleu, but she still didn’t want to weaponize Ahmeek against Messiah.
If Meek showed up, it wouldn’t go well. She put her phone away.
She stared across the room at Messiah. They were both exhausted.
His dark, handsome face was guilt-ridden.
The worry burdened him, and Morgan felt such empathy for him that she sighed, releasing her animosity.
“Your friend gone?” Messiah asked.
“Yeah, he’s gone,” Morgan said. “We have to be on the same team through this, Ssiah.” Those SSs for ZZs mixed with the vulnerability in her tone told him that this was a white flag.
Morgan was yielding, and this truce gave him instant relief.
As big and bad as he was, when she was angry at him, he went from mammoth to mouse.
Her disappointment shrank him every time.
“That’s all I want,” Messiah conceded. “You just so mad, Mo.”
Morgan pierced him with a stare full of disbelief, annoyance, and yup, he nailed it, anger.
“Okay, Ssiah. What do you want me to feel? Just tell me. I’ll be however you want me to be.
You want me to be a pushover? You want me to be silent and let you do whatever?
You want me to be na?ve and trust you again?
You want me to be available and sleep with you whenever you want?
You want me to be easy and climb in your bed again?
You want me to be stupid and listen to the lies you ready to tell about you and Bleu?
Go ahead; I’ll be whatever version makes you feel comfortable.
They’re all versions I’ve been before for you, so it won’t be hard.
How far you want me to reverse the hands of time? You want me to be deaf Mo?”
“I’m in love with deaf Mo, shorty. So, yeah,” Messiah shot back. “Be deaf Mo for me. Silence the noise and hear me only. Shit was good when it was like that.”
“You loved that girl, Ssiah, but I didn’t,” Morgan replied, shaking her head.
“Shit, do you love this girl?” he asked, waving his hand up and down like she wasn’t shit. He was presenting her to herself, and his disapproval was loud.