5. When Truth Gets Loud #2
He woke before dawn, made pancakes even when he didn’t want to eat, packed lunches with sticky notes that said You got this in uneven handwriting. He learned how to braid tighter, how to get toothpaste stains out of sweaters, how to keep a house running on less energy but more purpose.
Zara adjusted in her own quiet way. She asked fewer questions about her mom, but he could feel the ache in her drawings—stick figures of two people holding hands, the space between them filled with color where Katelyn used to be.
She’d taken to sitting by the window after dinner, chin on the sill, watching the streetlights blink on. “It looks like stars down here,” she told him once. He nodded, too full to speak.
It was Jackson that told him he was still wearing his wedding ring a few days after the divorce, then told him to take as long as he needed to take it off.
That evening after wrapping filming, he took it off and immediately threw up afterwards.
The knots that settled into his stomach about beginning the unknown made sleep evade him that night.
A few days later he had Angelou’s barber cut off the hair he had been growing since he found out that Katelyn was pregnant. He only trimmed it to keep it shoulder length.
“What are you releasing?” The barber, named Curtis who looked to be in his fifties, gruffed out before working the clippers against his curls.
“What you mean?” Trevor questioned in response.
“You had that look when you came in here. You’re heavy. Usually when I get those types that means they are cutting to let go of something.”
“Damn, you’re good. I just got divorced. Been married since I was nineteen.”
“Been divorced myself. I’m remarried now.” Trevor sat up, intrigued.
“How was that experience?” Curtis paused his work to think for a moment.
“I will always have love and respect for my first wife. She is the mother of my kids. Our ending wasn't great. I definitely could’ve handled it better. I realize now, we were two people that were never meant to go past the first date. We got pregnant early in our courtship and I knew I had to make it right. Had two more kids before it really started showing we shouldn’t be together anymore. ”
“That sounds like my story. How did you end up remarried?”
“I met my second wife unexpectedly. I was pushing 40. And I was picking up dinner from the Chinese place right by my place. They accidentally switched our orders. Thank God she checked her food before leaving. I looked at her and her smile pulled me in. A simple conversation had us finding a place to eat our dinner while continuing the conversation. Before we knew it, it was one in the morning and I didn’t want to leave.
So, I didn’t. It’s been twenty years and I know that she was meant for me. ”
“Damn, that’s dope.” Trevor didn’t stop to think about the pang in his chest from thinking about if he would ever meet someone like Curtis’ wife.
“When it’s time, young blood, you’ll know.
” Curtis responded with finality, before concentrating on his work.
Trevor’s mind continued to go into overdrive.
He sat with feelings heavy on his chest as strands of his hair fell to the ground.
Was he still truly in love with Katelyn?
This time alone, he was starting to see the cracks in their foundation.
He loved her once, but he certainly was not in love with her today.
He hurt most for his daughter. She was quieter these days and that made his chest hurt more than being single.
When Curtis was finished with his taper fade, Trevor almost didn’t recognize himself.
A weight that had been on his shoulders seemed to lift with the sight of his new haircut.
He quickly paid Curtis, promising to be back in two weeks and then made his way home to get ready to go out with his bros.
The quiet house made his mind drift to Zara.
He missed her. Even though she would only be gone for a night and he never had to worry about her on Saturday nights.
The Porter men dinners became anchor points. The first Saturday of every month, no matter what.
Sometimes it was Brooklyn, sometimes his place. Sometimes it’s his dad’s. They’d cook, talk trash, argue about sports, then end up reminiscing about Della until the laughter turned soft. Though, he knew tonight was to check on how he had been holding up
Zara stayed with her aunties on Porter dinner nights.
Mackenzie spoiled her with crafts and warm cookies.
Nina made playlists and built pillow forts taller than the couch.
Zara usually came home on Sundays glittering and exhausted, curls frizzed, cheeks flushed, heart lighter.
Trevor lived for those nights because they gave her pieces of womanhood that he couldn’t.
Since Nina and Mackenzie would keep Zara that night, when Trevor got home after leaving the barbershop, the silence returned heavier than before.
He’d fall asleep on the couch more often than not because the bed held too many memories, laptop on the table, a half-finished drink beside it.
The ghost of his mother’s voice reminding him he was still her boy, still capable of joy.
In that moment though, he felt as if joy was the furthest thing from his reach. These were the times he missed his mother the most. She would know what to do and how to navigate this new existence that had been thrusted upon him.
“Trevor, baby. You have to slow down!” Della used admonish about him running through their home because he was always prone to trip and fall.
The words wouldn’t change as he got older because he was the type to rush into something without taking the time to think about if it was something he truly needed.
The last time his mother had told him to slow down?
When Katelyn went into labor. He had come to his mother to tell her his plans of asking Katelyn to marry him.
Her response was one he didn’t expect, but now, sitting in the aftermath of his marriage they were always playing in a loop in his head.
“Trevor–baby–I always told you to slow down. Katelyn isn’t going anywhere. Are you sure this is what you want? You can take your time…” Her voice drifted as she looked deep in thought. The look on her face, the empathy she had for his naiveté haunts him till this day. Maybe if he would’ve listened…
You can take your time
You can take your time
You can take your time
“Stop!” Trevor voiced to his thoughts. Praying his mother’s voice would go quiet for the night and his regrets wouldn’t swallow him whole. Just as he finally got his mind quiet, his phone binged.
Angelou: Get your ass up. We are going out tonight. Meet me here 43 E 75th St at 10pm don’t be late
Jackson: You know you put this in our group chat right? Is this invite extended to everyone??
Angelou: Don’t you have a commission to finish?
Jackson: Don’t you have twins to take care of?
Leon: Boys, you two just can’t stop. I’ll see you there at 10. This is the booty club right?
Trevor cackled reading his dad’s message. He was constantly reminded that he hit the jackpot when it came to family.
Trevor: Dad, no one calls it the booty club anymore. I will be there at 10 pm sharp.
Trevor locked his phone and got up to get ready.
In the shower he let his tears fall. He felt like a failure.
How could he have been so blind to everything?
He doesn’t regret Katelyn because Zara was the best thing that has happened to him, but he does regret marrying her.
Regrets keeping her around his daughter because now he had to pick up the pieces to his daughter’s heart that Katelyn shattered.
Zara never deserved that. He finished getting ready in his all black fit, with his black Timbs.
He would wear his signature chain, but it was from Katelyn and he didn’t want that bad energy around him.
Getting into the city already had Trevor on edge when he pulled up to the valet.
He tossed the keys and proceeded into the unmarked building.
The bass met him before the door fully closed behind him, low and steady, like a second heartbeat humming beneath the floor.
The hallway was narrow and dark, washed in amber light that made every shadow look intentional.
A man in a fitted suit gave him a once over, nodded, and stepped aside.
When Trevor rounded the corner into the main room, the space opened up like a secret.
The club was drenched in red and gold light, velvet booths curved along the perimeter, glass tables catching the glow of chandeliers that shimmered like they were dipped in honey.
Black bodies filled the room, every shade from deep onyx to warm caramel moving in rhythm with the music.
Laughter rolled across the space, thick and easy.
The air smelled like expensive cologne, brown liquor, and something sweet burning slow in the background.
It felt less like a club and more like a sanctuary for release, a place where Black men and women came to exhale without explanation.
On the main stage, a woman with skin the color of dark roast coffee climbed the pole with the grace of someone born without fear.
Her thighs flexed as she inverted herself, legs splitting wide before she spun, hair cascading toward the floor.
The crowd roared as she transitioned seamlessly, flipping upright and sliding down in a controlled descent that made it clear she owned the stage and every eye fixed on it.
Trevor stopped mid step.
She moved like gravity did not apply to her, like she had made a private deal with the laws of physics.
When she hooked one leg and arched her back, the lights kissed the sheen of her skin, and he felt something in his chest shift.
It had been a long time since anything purely physical had caught his attention without guilt attached to it.