Page 71 of Truce Of The Matter

“As usual, you have perfect timing. I swear you always know when to call or come see me.”

“I know Daija is supposed to be there at noon so I had to make sure that you’re good.”

“I’m good. I just hope it goes okay.”

“It’s gonna go better than okay. You got to focus on what you told me.”

“What? What did I tell you?” I question.

“Our first night in my tub, about Lyra. You told me that family may hurt each other and get upset but the love is always there. Daija loves you so you don’t need to hope, just focus on your words, beautiful.”

My doorbell chimes and I sigh from a tinge of disappointment.She’s not using her key.

“That’s her?” he asks.

“Yeah. I gotta go.”

“Focus on your words. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I end the call then ease off my sectional. My hands nervously brush down my shirt as I journey to my door. When I open it and see her standing here, face devoid of her beautiful smile, a wave of guilt engulfs me. And when my eyes meet her drearily dull ones, my heart sinks.I’m the reason for her sadness.

Without any thought, I throw my arms around her, pull her into me, and hold her. As I embrace her, I silently pray that all the love I possess for her somehow radiates from me and permeates her skin. For what feels like forever, I just hold her as she stands frozen, displaying my stubbornness trait that she clearly inherited.

“I love you,” I tell her and she sniffs loudly, finally moving.

Her hands reach up and caress my back and a painful cry escapes her lips. My hold tightens and her cries amplify. Gingerly, I turn us around, use my foot to close the door, then walk us to my sectional. When we are sitting, she curls up on the sectional then rests her head on my lap. After raking her braids from her face, I softly caress it as she continues to cry.

“I’m lost. I don’t know who I am anymore,” she mumbles after about fifteen minutes of sobbing. “My whole life…a lie. Momma isn’t my momma. Daddy isn’t my daddy. My real father blocked me. He has other children but he doesn’t want me. Nope, not Daija. I don’t belong to anybody and nobody wants me. That… That,” she huffs. “That’s my life. That’s some truth for my ass.”

Her rant stops for a moment and I stall, waiting to see if she’s going to continue. I’m keeping my promise to let her talk and get her feelings out. It’s the least of things that I owe her. However, when her silence lingers for too long, I decide to speak, refuting the most important and most erroneous statement she made—nobody wants her.

“I want you. You are mine and I wanted you the moment I learned you existed. I wanted you then and I still do now. I will always love and want you, Daija.”

“And who are you to me, Truce? Huh? My big sister who I loved so much that I tried to be just as good as her? Is that who you are? Is it? Or, and this is the tea, are you the one who gave birth to me then lied to me every damn day of my life? And only told me because I found an old ass birth certificate. Who are you to me?” she spews angrily and sarcastically.

Her words are a harsh cocktail of anger and pain prepared just for me. So I take them, swallow them whole, then push them down. I’ll consume all of her hurt and pain if it will lead her back to me and mend this brokenness between us. I’m her mother; her burdens are mind to bear.

“I’m your mother,” I say calmly once I’ve digested her words. “Even if you are unsure of who I am to you, I’m not. You are my daughter and I am your mom. I was your mom when you rushed to the stage during my graduation when you were four. I was your mom when you started your period and called me crying. I was your mom when we went homecoming and prom shopping and I was your mom when you decided to lose your virginity before you left for college. I have always been your mother; I just couldn’t tell you. I was fourteen and had to do what my mother said. Doing it killed me but it didn’t stop me from loving you, caring for you, and always making sure that you were okay. I don’t care what you call me, Daija. Just don’t shut me out.”

Her hand swipes across her tear-stained face then she sits up slowly. She stares at me for a moment, then sighs. Her shoulders deflate and she frowns.

“Did you talk to Tremayne?” she asks and I nod. “What did he say?”

“The same thing he said when we were kids. He’s not a real man and you don’t need him in your life. You have a great dadwho loves you. Don’t waste your energy or tears on Tremayne. He’s not worth it,” I tell her and her tears return. I reach out and wipe them. “I mean it; he’s not worth it and he doesn’t deserve to know you.”

She nods because she understands but it’s clear that it’s hurting her to accept my words. Her legs stretch out then she places her feet on the floor. She inches closer to me and I drape my arm around her. Her arm hugs me.

“Do you regret it?” she utters.

“The secret, yes. Having you, never. I’ll never ever regret you.”

“I do love you, Truce,” she whimpers and my entire body relaxes into a smile.

“I know you do.”

“And I’m sorry,” she says.

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