Chapter 27
Kass
By the time I made it to the sixth floor, my knees were reminding me that I wasn’t seventeen anymore.
The building’s hallway smelled like somebody just cooked fish, and the walls had that city wear to them.
The building, I was sure, saved a ton of money by not having an elevator.
The least they could have done was upgrade the vicinity.
Even when I walked through the lobby toward the stairs, the little laundry room they had looked a mess.
But when I got to Cayla’s door, and she opened it, it was like stepping into a whole different world.
Her apartment was spotless. The new gray carpet I’d helped her get installed was spread clean across the floor. It lay soft and plush under my shoes. The air smelled like vanilla candles and Pine-Sol, with a hint of her perfume floating somewhere in between.
“Okay,” I said, stepping inside with a grin. I placed the bag of wine on the floor as I stepped out of my sneakers. “You've been in here working. Your place looks good.”
She smiled a little, the kind of smile that didn’t reach all the way to her eyes. “Yeah, I just wanted to clean up while Oriana’s gone.”
I nodded, scanning the space. “You did your thing. That carpet really set it off.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said softly, adjusting the strap of her tank top. “It just feels like a fresh start, you know?”
Something about the way she said it made me look closer. Her eyes were a bit red around the rims, like she’d been crying earlier. I wanted to ask, but I knew better. Sometimes it was best to just let a woman breathe.
“You hungry?” she asked, reaching for her phone. “I was gonna order DoorDash. I’ve been craving Mexican food.”
“I’m always down for tacos.”
She laughed under her breath and started scrolling.
I took a seat on the couch and noticed how much had changed since the last time I was here.
The cable box light glowed blue when she didn’t even have service before.
A few toys were neatly packed into a basket, and the throw blanket that used to be tossed on the couch was folded just right.
She was trying to put the pieces of her life back together, I could tell.
When the food came, she spread it across the coffee table and sat next to me. We mainly ate in silence while the television filled the space between us.
“You ever notice how quiet it gets when a baby’s gone?” she asked after a while.
I nodded, although I couldn’t relate like she could because I didn’t have any children, but she seemed at peace with the silence.
“Yeah, I feel you.”
She nodded back. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, but I could tell she was not watching. It was evident that her mind was somewhere else.
“This is good,” I said, breaking the quiet. The last thing I wanted was for things to be awkward between us. “You got good taste,” I quickly added.
That earned me a small smile.
“I just like authentic Mexican food,” she said before grabbing a napkin from the coffee table to wipe her mouth.
“Then this right here qualifies.”
I could tell that by the salsa that the restaurant gave in little containers that someone’s Abuela was back there in the kitchen mixing with a wooden spoon.
For a second, the tension eased. She laughed, and her eyes finally softened as she leaned back on the couch.
I didn’t push her to talk, and I didn’t pry into what was eating at her.
I just sat there with her as the glow of the television flickered across her face.
I knew firsthand that sometimes showing up meant more than saying the right thing.
Only people who really care about you can hear you when you’re quiet, and to me, although those lips didn’t move, she was screaming right now.
While sitting in silence, I could feel in me that something was wrong with her, and honestly, the connection was spooky.
I had a tight feeling in my chest just from knowing she wasn’t at ease. I wondered what the fuck had happened that had her feeling this way. I wanted to fix whatever problem she had and take the load off her shoulders and place it onto mine.
She was a damn good woman, and she shouldn’t have gone through half the shit she did, and I’d be damned if she went through anything else.
Without her even asking, I was stepping into the role of her protector.
I wanted to fix all leaks in her life before she even noticed the water.
I twisted my mouth, debating whether I should poke at what I knew was bothering her.
Although deep down it was bothering me, I decided not to pry and sit in the moment that she was allowing me to be a part of.
The food was gone, the empty platters were pushed aside, and the television was still running on low volume.
Some random movie played. You know, one of those that you don’t really watch, you just let it fill the room while you do other shit with your time.
Cayla had her legs tucked underneath her, with her head resting against the arm of the couch.
I could tell she was fading, but she wasn’t ready to sleep.
Her mind just looked like she was out of it.
“You ever feel like you keep trying to heal from the same person over and over?” she asked suddenly as she sat up straight.
That made me look at her. I caught the pain in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I said after a moment, “yeah, I know that feeling.”
She nodded slowly while her fingers picked at the edge of the throw blanket. I could tell she was trying to steady herself before opening up to me, and I was going to let her take whatever time she needed.
“I thought I was past it. I really did. But then, something happens when you’re healing. It’ll be a picture, a song, or whatever, and it’s like I’m right back in the same pain. Like it never left.”
I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees.
“He did something recently?”
Briefly, over the phone, she went over the history of her and her baby daddy. Of course, everything she shared was surface-level, but I appreciated her for telling me anyway. She hesitated, and that pause said everything.
“He took Oriana to a baby shower today,” she said finally. “He told me it was for a family member, but it was his baby shower. His and… hers.”
I didn’t say anything at first. I was processing her pain. One thing I was lost about was who her was. But I didn’t want to interrupt her getting things off her chest. I figured that somewhere later in this conversation, there would be a space for any questions I had.
“I saw the pictures on Instagram.” Cayla’s voice cracked, so she took a minute to get herself together before continuing. “It was him, her, my daughter, and his other two kids, all dressed up like a happy family. They were wearing matching outfits and everything.”
She wiped at her eyes fast, like she didn’t want me to notice, but I did.
“Mama, who is this her?” I finally asked.
She sighed out a breath and then started chuckling. I didn’t see how any of the shit was funny, but she seemed to find the humor in the situation. Cayla’s laugh was shaky like the ones that come from the middle of your chest when you’re trying not to break.
“Her name is Brandi. She is the bitch who used to be one of my close friends. She was my roommate in college. She is the one who secretly wanted my baby daddy the whole time I was with him…” She paused. “I guess she got him now.”
“Damn, that’s crazy,” was the only response I could offer.
“You wanna know what’s really crazy?” She turned and stared me directly in the eyes.
That pain in her brown orbs was honestly pissing me off.
She quickly turned away before continuing.
“I’m not even mad that he moved on. I’m mad that he keeps putting my baby in the middle of his mess.
She’s one and a half, Kass. She shouldn’t be meeting a new sibling every time she goes to see him. ”
“That man doesn’t sound like he’s thinking of any of that. He probably thinks he’s just living life and winning, but that kind of stuff always comes back around.”
She looked at me with her eyes full of tears and exhaustion.
“Do you think I’m stupid for still letting it get to me?”
I shook my head. “Nah. You loved him. That doesn’t just switch off. But you are being honest about how it hurt. You've got to let that pain out. That’s how it starts to fade.”
For a long moment, she just stared at me like she was trying to see if I really meant it. Then her shoulders dropped, and just like that, some of that tightness left her body.
“I hate that I ever let him make me feel small,” she whispered.
I sat a bit closer to her. I was careful with my notion because I knew she was in a fragile state.
“You’re not small, Cayla. You just forgot who you are for a minute.”
She blinked at me, and her lip trembled just a little before she smiled.
“You always did have a way with words.”
“Nah, I just know what it looks like when a woman deserves better.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it let my last statement hang in the air a bit.
She leaned into me and then rested her head against my chest. I wrapped my arm around her without thinking.
For the first time that night, her mind seemed at ease.
She didn’t respond to my comment, and she didn’t have to.
The room spoke for her, the softness of the moment, the safety I was offering her, and the way her heartbeat slowed against me let me know she was calming.
While we sat in silence, I realized something I hadn’t said out loud yet: I wasn’t just helping her heal, I was falling hard for the woman she was becoming after the storm.
I don’t know how long we sat like that, but I could tell the heaviness on her soul was starting to lift. The movie on the television switched to reruns of Law and Order: SVU, and that’s when I suddenly remembered.
“Damn,” I said, sitting up a little. “I almost forgot I brought a couple bottles of wine.”