Page 28 of Love You Like That

“Just poetry,” I said, calm. “Performances, writin’—”

“A true creative,” she cut me off smoothly, dismissing me with a nod and turning back to Yaya. “Your parents mentioned you got the Hollis Medical offer for an interview. Incredible opportunity.”

I stood there silent, feeling my chest tighten. Yaya nodded, looking uncomfortable. “Yes, Aunt Lucy, it’s very exciting.” I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of the eyes moving over me. “Come on,” Yaya whispered, gently tugging my arm. “Let’s keep moving.”

As we drifted deeper into the crowd, I noticed the same interaction on repeat. Family member after family member, same polite greetings, same barely-hidden judgments. They praised Yaya’s accomplishments and asked me polite butpointed questions about my poetry, always with undertones of skepticism.

Eventually, we reached the heart of it all. Her parents stood near the main tent. Yaya’s Pops, tall and commanding in his perfectly tailored cream suit, watched us approach with sharp, assessing eyes. Her moms, elegant and controlled, smiled with a quiet grace that somehow felt colder than if she hadn’t smiled at all.

“Mom, Daddy,” Yaya began, her voice subtly higher now, carefully placed. “This is Ezra. Ezra, these are my parents, Leonard and Evelyn Sinclair.”

Her Pops extended his hand first. “Ezra.”

I took it, matching his firm grip. “Mr. Sinclair.”

He looked me directly in the eye, steady and unblinking. “Yavanni tells us you’re an artist.”

“A poet,” I clarified, holding his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

He nodded slowly, releasing my hand. “Interesting career choice. Does it pay the bills?”

“Enough,” I said calmly, although it was a lie. He didn’t need to know that I survived off old drug money.

Yaya’s moms intervened smoothly, her voice a soft buffer. “Ezra, are you from the area originally?”

“Born and raised in East Hollis,” I replied, forcing a calm smile.

“And your family?” she continued, probing gently.

“My mom's passed when I was comin' up and I don’t know my Pops,” I admitted, noticing the slight shift in their expressions.

Yaya's Pops gave her a look, as if to silently question her choice. “Ambition is important. You understand that, don’t you, Ezra?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” I replied firmly, trying to keep my tone respectful despite the heat rising in my chest.

“And you think poetry will provide the stability my daughter deserves?” he asked, voice quiet but dangerous.

My fists clenched. “I’m buildin' somethin’ solid and it’s not just 'bout money.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked coolly.

“Daddy, please,” Yaya said softly, almost pleading.

Her Pops ignored her, still holding my gaze. “My daughter has options. Many of them. I just hope you’re prepared to offer her more than just nice words.”

I took a deep breath, feeling my jaw tighten. “I’ll do right by ya daughter. You can count on that.”

There was silence, thick and charged until her mom's finally broke it. “Well, it’s lovely meeting you, Ezra. Please, enjoy yourself.” As they walked away, Yaya’s grip on my hand tightened. She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The rest of the evening blurred into tense small talk and fake laughter. I watched as Yaya shifted even deeper into that unfamiliar armor, distancing herself from the woman I’d fallen in love with. By the time we left, every part of me felt strained. The moment we got back into the car, the silence exploded.

“You could’ve handled that better,” Yaya finally said, her voice quiet but sharp.

“How?” I demanded. “By frontin’? By pretendin’ to be someone I’m not?”

“I didn’t say put on a front,” she shot back, driving away. “But you knew how important this was. They just needed reassurance.”

“No, they wanted me to apologize for existin’,” I said bitterly. “They judged me from jump, Yavanni, and you just stood there and let 'em.”

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