15. Celeste #6
JJ pointed toward the dining room, his hand trembling.
“You sat at that table and acted like Mama owed you permission to breathe past Daddy. You talked to her guest like he’d done something wrong by accepting a plate.
You kept poking him, kept hunting for a reason to hate him, kept trying to make him act ugly so you could feel right about being ugly first.”
Kayden wiped his face with the heel of his hand.
JJ’s voice dropped harder. “And he didn’t give you anything. He sat there and took it because he’s a better man than what you were trying to make him become.”
Kayden’s chin trembled.
No comeback came.
JJ moved one step closer to the staircase. “You’re not the man of this house.” Kayden flinched. “You’re her son. That’s enough. That’s a blessing. But you’re not her husband. You’re not her daddy. And you’re not the police over Mama Cee’s happiness.”
Kayden stared down at the step beneath his feet, tears falling freely now.
JJ’s eyes reddened as he stared at him. The keys shook in his hand. His next breath came out ragged, like the words had to climb over grief before they could leave his mouth.
“Dad would’ve been disappointed in you, and I have never in my life been so ashamed to call you my fucking brother.”
The room cracked open.
Skye’s hand flew to her mouth.
Maya’s eyes filled.
Zuri tucked herself closer against Maya’s side.
Kayden’s face crumpled.
All that attitude left him at once. No smart remark. No rolled eyes. No shrug. He stood on the stairs with tears running down his face, one hand gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping him upright, looking seventeen and seven at the same time.
JJ’s chest heaved, then his eyes found mine, and the anger drained from his face so fast pain filled the space it left behind.
“I’m sorry, Mama Cee. I’m sorry for my language.”
I couldn’t speak.
JJ wiped his face with his free hand and came toward me. The keys shook in his grip. He stopped in front of me, taller than me now, but his eyes were the same eyes that used to search mine from the back seat after school.
He bent and kissed my forehead.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You hear me? You didn’t do anything wrong by inviting him here. You didn’t do anything wrong by smiling at him. You didn’t do anything wrong by wanting somebody to sit beside you at the table.”
My throat closed around his name. “JJ.”
He shook his head, fighting for composure and losing.
“No, Mama Cee. You’ve been trying to breathe around everybody’s grief for years.
You make sure we’re good. You make sure this house runs.
You make sure Daddy’s name stays loved in here.
But you deserve more than surviving us. You deserve to be happy too. ”
A wounded sound came from the stairs.
JJ didn’t turn around.
“I like Josiah. He’s really nice. He didn’t talk down to me. He respected your house. He respected Daddy’s chair. He respected Kayden, even when Kayden gave him every reason not to. And when Maya’s outlet was messed up, he cared about her being safe before he cared about his own feelings.”
A tear slid down my cheek.
JJ’s mouth trembled. “Please don’t let one bad night talk you out of a man who showed you he’d stay through the hard ones.”
The words went straight through me.
He hugged me with one arm, then both, and for a second, I held the man he’d become and the baby I remembered at the same time.
“I love you, Mama Cee.”
“I love you too, baby.”
He pulled back, wiping his face again with the heel of his palm. “I need to get outta here.”
I nodded because I knew that look. He had too much emotion in his body and nowhere safe to put it without breaking something.
Before stepping out, he looked back at Kayden. His voice hardened, but the bass had softened into grief. “Fix it.”
Then he left.
The door closed behind him, and the house held its breath.
Kayden didn’t move from the stairs.
I looked up at my son, at his wet eyes and trembling mouth, at the boy who missed his father so badly he’d started fighting anything that looked like proof life kept moving.
I wanted to go to him.
I wanted to send him to his room.
I wanted to call Josiah.
I wanted Jamal.
Instead, I stood in the foyer with my daughters watching from the couch, my oldest son’s words ringing in the walls, and the empty curb pressing against the front window.
Kayden whispered, “Mama.”
I lifted one hand.
Not to silence him forever.
Just long enough for me to stay standing.
“Not tonight.”
His face crumpled all the way then.
I hated that too.
But I couldn’t hold everybody right then. Not after sending away the man who’d sat at my table, honored my house, respected my children, and left because I asked him to.
I walked into the kitchen and gripped the counter. The plates were washed. The cake was covered. The chairs were pushed in except Kayden’s sitting crooked from when he stormed away.
I stared at that chair until my vision blurred.
For years, I’d been so afraid of grief taking another thing from my children that I let it keep a place at the table.
Tonight, it used my son’s voice.
Then it used mine.
And Josiah left with both of our fingerprints on the door.