Chapter 21
T wo Weeks Later
Emon was surprised by Jacques’s work ethic. The boy showed up every day like he had something to prove, hustling with a quiet intensity that reminded Emon of himself at that age. But there was something else—an unspoken weight that Jacques carried, one Emon understood all too well.
One night had turned into two weeks. Their guest had been with them since he’d dropped Jacques and his siblings off at his mom’s house, and it was time to address the elephant in the room: Pilar.
“Ja, let me holla at you really quick.”
Jacques wiped his hands on the apron tied around his waist. “Yes, sir?”
Emon leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his expression serious but calm. “I know you keep ducking the question about ya moms, but we gotta go handle that. I can’t have my mama low key kidnapping y’all and shit.”
Jacques’s face hardened. “Sir, we don’t wanna go home. You see she don’t even care.”
Emon rubbed his jaw, trying to temper his frustration.
He got it. He really did. Pilar wasn’t winning any awards for Mother of the Year, but Vicey wasn’t in a position to play permanent guardian either.
She’d been more than generous, taking in four kids, making them feel safe, even turning her sewing room into a bedroom for the girls, but this wasn’t sustainable, and Emon needed Jacques to see that.
“I know, man,” Emon said carefully. “And I ain’t tryna get rid of y’all, but we gotta figure something out. Vicey’s holding it down, but she’s not young anymore. You feel me?”
Jacques’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “Nah,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “It feel like you tryna get rid of us.” He yanked off his apron and tossed it on the counter, then turned and stormed out of the pantry.
“Shit,” Emon muttered under his breath and followed him. Jacques moved fast, but Emon’s stride was quicker. He caught up just as Jacques reached the back door.
“Yo, hold up!” Emon called, his voice rising. Jacques stopped but didn’t turn around.
“What?” Jacques spat, shoulders tense.
Emon stepped in front of him, forcing the boy to meet his eyes. “You think I’d be breaking my back, making sure y’all good, if I didn’t care? That’s how you feel?”
Jacques hesitated, his jaw tight, but his silence spoke volumes.
“I get it,” Emon continued, his tone softening. “I know what it’s like to feel like nobody got you. But don’t put that on me, Ques. I’m here. I’m doing what I can, but you gotta meet me halfway, bruh. We can’t keep running from this. We gotta holla at ya mom.”
Jacques’s eyes darted away, but Emon could see the crack in his tough exterior.
“You don’t understand,” Jacques mumbled. “She don’t want us. She ain’t never wanted us. You make us go back and she just gon’ leave again.”
Emon’s chest tightened. He stepped back, giving them some space. “I hear you. I do, but running fixes nothing. It only prolongs the inevitable. If she ain’t gon’ step up, we need to know that so we can figure out what’s next. You gotta trust me on this.”
“She don’t care. You know that. She don’t even know where we are. We ain’t on no milk cartons, no Amber Alerts, nothing. She may not even be home.”
“Exactly,” Emon said firmly. “That’s the problem. She don’t even know where her kids are, and you think that’s okay? She needs to know what’s up and what’s gon’ happen next.”
“She doesn’t want us,” he repeated for what felt like the tenth time. Jaques had been enjoying this time with Emon and his family. These had been the best two weeks he and his sisters had. They had good food, a bed, clothes that fit, and peace. He didn’t want that to be a memory.
Emon reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Then you still got me and Blake. You got my mama. We got y’all.”
He finally nodded, the fight draining from his stance. “Okay.”
“Alright,” Emon said, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze before straightening up. “Let’s go see what she got to say, but first, we gotta stop and get some food.”
Jacques smirked slightly despite himself, and Emon gave him a small grin.
Emon was conflicted. He wanted to take the kids himself, but he knew that would be an adjustment.
He didn’t know how to go about it. Blake was fire hot with Pilar.
He’d had to calm her down every day since the incident.
Blake was ready to knock that ho’s head loose, hoping it had the opposite effect.
Maybe it knocked the dizziness out of her.
Emon decided to call her to let her know that he was finally going to take Jacques to see if she was home, but that conversation didn’t go how he planned.
“Bae, you’re really taking Jacques to see that woman?
Fuck her,” Blake’s voice came through the car’s Bluetooth, sharp and incredulous.
He quickly took her off the Bluetooth, not wanting Ja to hear what she would say.
It was still the boy’s mama at the end of the day and Blake had been talking reckless for days.
“Yeah,” Emon said calmly, glancing at Jacques in the passenger seat. “She don’t even know where they at, Blake. That ain’t right, no matter how trash she is. I ain’t tryna get my mama in no shit. I won’t hear the end of.”
Blake scoffed. “Trash is putting it lightly. She abandoned them, Emon. Left them to fend for themselves, and now you’re about to give her the time of day? She doesn’t deserve it. Probably don’t even want it. Fuck her, like I said.”
Emon sighed, massaging his temple. He could see her now rolling her neck with her face twisted, and that clapping shit she did. “I ain’t doing it for her. I’m doing it for them. They need to know where they stand, even if the answer’s ugly.”
“You better than me,” Blake muttered. “I’d be cussing her out the second I saw her face and asking that ho how she wanted her ass beat. This way? That way? The long way? Or the strong way?”
“Bae, you crazy ass hell. Shit kinda cute,” Emon said with a smirk. “Right now, I just need to make sure she knows her kids are with us and find out what she on moving forward. I’ll move differently after I find that out.”
“Ok, fine.”
“Ok, I’ll hit you with updates. Love you.”
“Love you too and be careful.”
Emon had made his mind up. He was going to figure something out because maybe his mom didn’t mind taking them in. He couldn’t decide for her. He’d speak to her about it after this.
The car idled outside a run-down house that sat on the corner of Eastland and Stick Street.
He’d passed by this house plenty of times on his way to the pantry.
Emon drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, glancing at Jacques in the passenger seat.
He sat stiffly, his hands balled into fists, his jaw tight.
“You ready?” Emon asked, keeping his voice steady.
Jacques hesitated, his gaze locked on the house. “She don’t care, Emon. I don’t even know why we’re here.”
“Because this ain’t about her,” Emon replied firmly. “This is about you and your sisters. We men, right?”
“Yeah, we men.”
“Ok, and men stand tall and face it all, right?”
“Right.”
“Let’s go.”
They stepped out of the car, the walk seemingly a mile away.
When they made it, Emon knocked hard on the door, his knuckles echoing against the wood.
After a long moment, the door opened a crack, revealing a high and disheveled Pilar.
Her expression was a mix of annoyance and confusion as she looked them over.
“What you want?” she asked, her tone sharp.
“You Pilar?” Emon asked, his voice calm but laced with distaste.
“Yeah. Who’s asking?”
“I’m Emon,” he said, stepping forward slightly. “Your kids been staying with my mama for the past two weeks. They needed food and things snowballed from there. Can we come in?”
Her eyes narrowed as she focused on Jacques, her brows furrowing. She opened the door some more, allowing it to swing wide open. “That’s where the hell y’all been. I told y’all not to leave this house.”
Jacques’s face twisted in anger. “The lights were off, Ma! We didn’t have any food! What were we supposed to do?”
Pilar leaned against the doorframe, unbothered. “Y’all coulda waited. I was out figuring something out.” That was a lie. Pilar hadn’t tried to make anything shake for her kids in years.
“Waited for what?” Jacques snapped, his voice trembling. “We were starving! You weren’t even here like normal!”
Emon held up a hand to calm him. “Aye, gon back to the car. I got it.” He wasn’t trying to traumatize him. He’d been through enough.
Once Jacques was back in the truck, Emon turned his attention back to Pilar, gripping the bridge of his nose before speaking. “Look, I don’t know you, and I don’t know your situation, but what I do know is that your kids were breaking windows to eat. You got me fucked up. It’s been two weeks.”
Pilar’s eyes flashed with irritation. “And what you want me to do about it now? They look fine to me. Ain’t nobody dead, so it’s not that serious.”
Emon’s jaw tightened, his patience thinning. “Not that serious? Your kids were living in the dark, stealing food, and you don’t think that’s serious?”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Don’t come to my door trying to judge me. You don’t know what I been through.”
“No,” Emon said evenly, “I don’t, but I know what these kids been through, and I know they deserve better.”
Pilar shrugged, her indifference weird to him. “Life’s hard. I did the best I could, and I’m done. If you so worried about them, you take ‘em. I ain’t got nothing else to give.”
Emon stared at her, his blood boiling. “You really just gon’ say that? Like it’s nothing?”
“It is nothing,” she said coldly. “Seem like they in good hands to me. Look at him clean and got on nice clothes.”
“Alright, then. I’ll take ‘em. But let me tell you something, you better hope and pray I let your bum ass make it through the fucking night. What you here for if not for yo’ kids?”