Chapter 11
eleven
“Mm,” she groaned softly, stretching out in the bed.
No one was banging on her door. No one was rummaging.
No one was doing all that loud talking. There was nothing put peace.
Peace. She hadn’t felt this since that day.
If she was being honest, she didn’t know peace completely before then anyway.
There had always been a quiet chaotic storm in their lives.
Her parents going back and forth, off and on.
Her father’s untimely death. The constant evictions once he was gone.
The bouts of depression her mother went through.
Kamilla never knew peace in its fullness, and that’s what she craved.
Deep in her soul she wanted peace, wanted family, wanted a true smile on her face, wanted a laugh that came from her depths. She longed for it.
When her eyes fully opened and she patted the bed for the phone, the time on the screen zapped the sense of peace she had.
Another day at Loco’s Tacos and another day of QaMeesha working her nerves.
She groaned and rolled over onto her back.
There were two hours until she had to clock in.
Going back to sleep was out of the question, so she sat up and did her morning routine.
Scroll through texts from her mother, start her personal playlist of her father’s music— some released and a whole lot of master’s that never got to see the light of day.
A continuum of Kamilla holding on to the things she’d never get to touch again.
And then there was a text from Cairo. Of course, if he’d broken into her aunt’s house with ease, figured out her work schedule and softly kidnapped her, he’d have her number.
C-Ro: went to grab breakfast. Fresh towels in the bathroom.
Another text from the phone company thanking her for payment and another from Aunt J.
Aunt J: you didn’t come home last night? Don’t fuck up going to college behind some nigga
Kamilla scoffed and swiped out of the texts altogether. She honestly didn’t know what she was expecting from her aunt, being that this was the first time she had to act like there were other people in the world besides herself.
“God forbid she’d have to actually care about me,” Kamilla grumbled, scooting out of the bed. While Cairo was gone, she showered and dressed for the day.
“K, come eat,” Cairo called. shutting the front door with his foot as she was walking down the hall. He caught a glimpse of her and smirked. “You slept good?”
“Yeah, actually. You?”
“You were right about the couch not being big enough. Once I hit the floor, I was good.”
“I can really take the couch, Cairo. I’ve slept on plenty of couches and floors,” she shared, following him into the small kitchen and peeking into a bag.
“And that’s probably why you’re exhausted.”
She laughed wryly. “Imagine that; I’ve been tired most of my life.”
“Crazy how we laugh off the fucked up shit about life,” he muttered, taking her tray out the bag and placing it on the small table.
Kamilla took a seat and waited until he sat across to open up her tray.
“I gotta laugh to keep from crying. When my dad was around, everything seemed stable, oddly enough, because him and my mother were so rocky but there was never a lack of anything. But when he was gone, stability left too. But in hindsight, I think my mother depended on him so much that she couldn’t catch her footing without him. ”
“What happened to him?” Cairo asked, studying her and putting the pieces together she refused to talk about.
Kamilla started to shrug but then stopped herself. “He was killed. Street shit, I guess.”
“Street shit in Greenwood?” Cairo asked with a raised brow.
“I guess it’s dangerous anywhere you go,” Kamilla offered in finality. “Enough about me. Why are you comfortable alone and on the floor?”
“I’ve been down with Azul since I was ten.”
“Ten?”
“Ten. By then, no parents and my grandma took me in. This is the house that shielded me when I sought it out. There was a lot of nights where the floor was the only place of comfort. So, we aren’t too different, K.”
“Maybe not,” she hummed. “I’m kinda curious about how a ten-year-old becomes an Azul Heart.”
“Caught a body.” He answer was to the point as he stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth.
Kamilla’s heart was empathic to him. “I won’t make you elaborate.”
He lifted his eyes to her. “K, I’d tell you whatever you want to know. You just got to ask.”
“Why?”
“I was tired of him putting his hands on my mother. There’s some shit I don’t stand for.
I’ll sell drugs, I’ll drop bodies, I’ll rob a muhfucka blind.
But I’ll never tolerate a woman being beat and niggas standing there letting it happen.
And I won’t stand for pussy ass niggas thinkin’ violating a woman is entertaining. ”
She slowly nodded. “Is that the beef between you and Martez?”
“Me and your play cousin got some real shit. And the only thing keepin’ life in his body right now, is you. I’m not trying to be another person in your life that traumatized you.”
She slightly frowned. It was that evident. Kamilla wore it. “You can see it?”
“Trauma sees trauma.”
Her frowned deepened. “Guess I gotta figure out a way to get it off of me.”
“We can figure that out together.”
Warding off the seriousness of this moment, she rolled her eyes. “Did you study French in school? It’s a whole lot of we in your vocabulary.”
“Got kicked out eleventh grade, and they didn’t offer French in Kenneth Husten High School. So nah. I speak with intention. You’re going to keep hearing it too. Eat up. A cranky Kamilla ain’t fun.”
“I’ve never been fun. Hence the no friends thing.”
“You got me, don’t worry we can be boring together.”
She rolled her eyes and softly laughed. “Until you find some real fun.”
“I don’t want real fun, K.”
Before she could process the comment in her head, it came out of her mouth. “What do you want then?”
Cairo offered her a loaded expression before motioning to her tray of food. “For my friend to eat before I take her to work.”
Kamilla conceded. “I’m eating. I’m eating.”
These moments she shared with Cairo were starting to become special. Like they were her own little piece of magic; no matter how innocent it seemed, they were sparks to hold on to. Because she knew one thing – life would rob you of the spark and all you had left to hold on to was the memory.
Back in his car, she watched the signs she was becoming familiar with.
One in particular made a tiny tinge in her heart.
12th and Husten, KP’s corner. She turned her attention from the street to Cairo.
In a few days she’d lowly studied his mannerisms. Even through the full beard, she noticed his clenched jaw.
“Thanks for taking care of my cellphone bill. I get paid next week, I’ll give it back,” she spoke, breaking the silence.
“You just gon’ keep thankin’ me huh?” he asked with a chuckle. “Your money ain’t good here.”
“Why are you like this? Hm?” Kamilla quizzed. “You got to take care of everything and everybody?”
“I’m a control freak, can’t help that. I guess it’s trauma or something. And I don’t take care of everybody. Only people I fuck with for real.”
“And how many people is that?”
“Oh, look who’s inquisitive today,” he quipped.
“You hijack my life, I have the right to ask questions. Now answer, please.”
He looked over his shoulder at her and offered a wider grin than before. “Oh, you bossy.”
“I’m not and I’m waiting.”
He grunted in amusement. “Including you? Three.”
“I wasn’t fishing for inclusion but thanks, I guess.”
He chuckled. “Welcome, I guess.”
Kamilla smiled just enough not to feel guilty for it and rolled her eyes to ward off the happiness.
“You got to stop doing that,” he stated. “Every time you smile, you catch yourself and stop.”
“Habit, maybe.”
“Yeah, I’m gon’ break that,” he muttered, pulling into the parking lot of Loco’s Tacos. He felt the immediate shift in Kamilla’s demeanor when she spotted QaMeesha outside blowing smoke into the air. “If working here shifts your mood like this, why do you keep showing up?”
“Because I need the money if I want to go to OSU for more than a semester,” Kamilla admitted.
“I’m not trying to be an asshole. What Loco paying you? What’s minimum wage? Ten dollars an hour?”
“Ten-fifty. I guess the fifty cents was a favor to my aunt that he may or may not be creeping with,” Kamilla commented, only for Cairo to put the battery in her back.
“Don’t let no place like this and no one like her make you lower yourself respect. Especially not for ten fifty an hour. Start cussin’ that bitch out on the spot,” he urged. “Can you even curse for real?”
“Shit, damn, bitch ass nigga,” Kamilla rambled off.
Cairo smirked. “Nah put some sauce on that shit. Fuck you, you muhfuckin’ pussy ass nigga. Say it.”
“Fuck you, you motherfucking pussy ass nigga,” Kamilla recited, causing Cairo’s head to drop back as a roar of laughter ripped through his body. “What, I said it just like you?”
“No, you didn’t, K. That’s aight, we’re going to work on this. For the time being, just say ‘fuck you, nasty ass bitch’ and walk away. If she gets out of pocket, call me,” Cairo said once his laughter settled.
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing, I refuse to touch her with a thirty-foot pole but I got people. And if I got people, that means you got people. Ain’t nobody fuckin’ with you, K.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I hear you.”
Kamilla started to exit the car but Cairo grabbed her hand, stopping her motion.
“Don’t hear me. Know that I got you, aight?”
She nodded, slightly biting her lip. “Okay.”
“Have a good day, K. I’ll be back by three forty-five.”
For the first time since them meeting, Kamilla looked at him in his eyes. Comfort and pure intent rested there. “You have a good day too, Cairo.”
She didn’t move; he still had her hand in his possession as though it was his. “I need my hand, Cairo. Unless you want me to leave it and I walk around with a nub.”