17. Celeste #2
Maya closed her sketchbook. “Should I get JJ?”
“He’s on FaceTime in five minutes.”
Kayden’s spoon paused above his bowl.
I saw the guarded lift of his shoulders. I saw his face try to harden before his eyes finished being afraid.
“Kayden, put the cereal up, baby.”
His jaw tightened, but he obeyed.
Five minutes later, JJ’s face filled my tablet from his dorm room. “What’s going on, Mama Cee?”
I looked at all of them. My babies. Jamal’s babies. Our living, breathing proof that love didn’t end just because a life did.
I sat on the edge of the coffee table instead of the armchair. Jamal’s chair stayed empty in the corner, holding memory without accusation.
“I owe y’all a conversation.”
Maya hugged her sketchbook to her stomach. Zuri scooted closer to Skye. Kayden leaned against the wall with his arms folded. JJ’s face sharpened on the screen.
I clasped my hands in my lap. “I love your daddy. I’ll always love your daddy. Nothing and nobody can change that. Not time. Not another man. Not a date. Not a dinner. Not me smiling again. My love for him is not up for eviction.”
Kayden’s throat moved.
I kept my voice steady, even while my heart beat hard.
“But I need y’all to hear me. Loving your father forever doesn’t mean I have to be lonely forever.
Missing him doesn’t mean I’m dishonoring him by living.
And if God allows love to find me again, that love isn’t a replacement.
It’s not an eraser. It’s not somebody coming in here to take his chair. ”
Skye’s eyes slid toward the empty recliner.
I followed her gaze. “That chair is your daddy’s because we said it is. His pictures are staying. His stories are staying. His birthday is staying. His favorite songs are staying, even though some of them got on my nerves.”
JJ laughed under his breath.
Maya smiled down at her hands.
I breathed in. “And I should’ve talked to y’all before I let fear talk for me.” Kayden looked at the floor. “I also need to talk about Josiah.”
Skye sat up straighter. “I like Mr. Josiah.”
Zuri raised her hand like she was in class. “Me too. He listened when I said the outlets were making the weird noise, and he didn’t make Maya feel bad.”
Maya’s face flushed. “He said it was good that somebody noticed.”
“That matters.”
Maya’s fingers traced the edge of her sketchbook. “He didn’t act like I was dramatic.”
I swallowed.
That small sentence carried more weight than she knew.
JJ’s voice came through the tablet. “He handled dinner better than I would’ve.”
Kayden’s head snapped up, but JJ didn’t back down.
I looked at Kayden. “Baby, I need to hear from you.”
His arms tightened across his chest. For a second, I thought he would shut down. Then his face shifted. The anger didn’t leave all at once. It loosened in pieces until the scared boy underneath had room to breathe.
“I was wrong,” he said. My eyes burned. Kayden rubbed both hands over his hair and looked toward Jamal’s chair before he looked at me. “I know I was wrong. JJ already told me. Loudly.”
JJ didn’t blink. “And accurately.”
“Bro,” Kayden muttered. A tiny laugh moved through the room and eased the pressure just enough. Kayden’s mouth trembled. He pressed his lips together, swallowed, and tried again. “I like him.”
The confession came out rough, almost angry.
I stayed still.
“I do,” he said. “And that made me mad. Like, for real mad. Because how am I supposed to like somebody sitting at our table when Dad can’t sit there no more?”
The room went still.
His eyes filled fast, but he kept talking through it.
“He’s cool. He fixed the stuff. He didn’t talk to us like we were dumb.
He didn’t try to sit in Dad’s chair. He didn’t act weird when we talked about him.
He listened to Zuri. He made Maya feel like she did something right. And I hated that I noticed all that.”
Maya’s eyes glossed over. Zuri lowered the block in her hand. Skye sat up all the way.
Kayden’s voice cracked. “It felt wrong. Like if I liked him, I was doing something dirty to Dad. Like I was letting another man in the house and saying Dad wasn’t enough. And I know that sounds stupid, but it didn’t feel stupid in my chest.”
I stood, but I didn’t rush him.
His shoulders shook once. “I got used to being the only guy here when JJ is gone. I know I’m not grown, but sometimes, it feels like I gotta be.
If something breaks, I’m looking. If somebody knocks too loud, I’m listening.
If you cry, I hear it. If the girls get scared, they look at me.
My protector meter be turned up too high, and I don’t always know how to turn it down. ”
“Oh, Kayden.”
He shook his head fast, tears sliding now. “I’m not making excuses. I was being a dick. I embarrassed you. I embarrassed myself. And I probably made him feel like trash when he didn’t deserve that.”
Skye slid off the couch first and crossed to him. She wrapped both arms around his waist and buried her face against his side.
“You’re not Dad,” she whispered. “You’re Kayden.”
Zuri came next, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “And you don’t gotta watch us all the time. We be watching you too.”
Maya stood slower, clutching her sketchbook to her chest. “I like him too. That doesn’t mean I love Daddy less.”
Kayden covered his face with one hand.
JJ’s voice came softer through the tablet. “Man, nobody’s asking you to be Dad. I’m not Dad either. We’re his sons. That’s enough.”
Kayden bent forward like those words had taken the last of his fight.
I crossed the room and pulled him into my arms. My tall, stubborn, hurting boy folded against me like his body had been waiting for permission to stop standing guard.
“You don’t have to be the man of this house,” I whispered. “You get to be my son. Do you hear me? You get to be seventeen. You get to grieve. You get to be mad. You get to miss your daddy. But you don’t get to use grief as permission to wound people.”
His arms tightened around me. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“I forgive you.”
“I’m sorry for how I acted.”
“I believe you, baby.” I pulled back and touched his face. “But I’m not the only one you owe an apology to.”
He nodded, eyes wet and serious. “I know. I’ll make it right.”
JJ nodded once. “Good.”
Zuri crawled into my lap like she hadn’t outgrown it.
Skye squeezed between me and Kayden because she had never respected personal space a day in her life.
Maya came last, sketchbook still in her hand, and leaned against my side.
The tablet sat on the coffee table with JJ watching us like he wished his arms could stretch through the screen.
“Can we pray?” Maya asked.
My heart broke and healed in the same breath.
“Yes, baby.”
We bowed our heads right there in the living room with Jamal’s chair beside us, JJ on FaceTime, and the evidence of our messy little life scattered around the floor.
I held Kayden’s hand and prayed from the trembling place in my chest. “Lord, thank You for this family. Thank You for the love Jamal gave us, the memories still covering us, and the mercy that keeps meeting us in rooms where grief has been loud. Teach us how to honor what was, without rejecting what You’re still doing.
Help me mother these babies with wisdom instead of fear.
Help them tell the truth without shame. Help us stop using loss as a locked door when You may be sending peace to knock gently.
Cover Josiah too. Where I hurt him, give me humility.
Where my children are afraid, give them language.
Where Kayden has been carrying weight that was never his assignment, give him rest. Let this house be led by You, not by panic, guilt, pride, or pain.
Give us courage to make room without feeling like we’re betraying love that still lives here. Amen.”
“Amen,” they said.
JJ’s voice came softer through the tablet. “Amen.”
When I opened my eyes, Jamal’s chair was still empty.
But for the first time in a long time, empty didn’t feel like the only truth in the room.
It felt like memory had moved over just enough for mercy to sit beside it.