Page 48 of Body Language
“Well, well, well,” one of them yelled out. “Look who decided to grace us with her fine ass today.”
“Boy, shut up before I call yo wife and tell her where you at,” I shot back, locking my car.
Another one squinted, pointing. “Hey, Niv… who was that you brought ‘round here the other day in that big-ass truck? Nigga looked like a steak dinner in the middle of the projects. Had us ready to run down on him until we saw you hop out.”
I smirked, tilting my head. “Yeah, he good. Touch him and I’ll kill you myself.”
The whole porch cracked up, one old head slapping his knee.
“See, that’s why don’t nobody mess with you, Niv. You got that mean pretty. Fine as hell but dangerous as a pit bull.”
“Better believe it,” I said, stepping past them. “Now stay out my business before y’all end up on a t-shirt.”
“Girl, you still savage as hell,” one called after me.
“Savage pays the bills,” I tossed over my shoulder.
I made it to Ma’s stairwell and Zejah was sitting on the bottom step, bag of Hot Cheetos in her lap, earphones in, phone propped up on her knee while she scrolled through YouTube.
“Zejah,” I called.
She looked up quick, wiping her fingers on her shorts. “Hey, Niv.”
I dropped down on the step next to her. “How’s Ma been?”
She shrugged. “Haven’t really seen her. She ain’t came out… unless she did when I was sleep.” She popped another Cheeto in her mouth. “My mama started making me come in early though. Says I gotta clean up before she heads out.”
“Head out where?” I asked, already knowing I wasn’t gonna like the answer.
“The casino,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Talking about she gone catch her a man. Whatever that means.”
“It means she out here looking for somebody old enough to get an AARP check but dumb enough to give her all of it.”
Zejah covered her mouth, trying not to laugh with a mouth full of chips.
I reached over and rubbed her knee. “Thank you, baby. For always keeping an eye out.”
She looked at me like she wanted to argue that it wasn’t a big deal, but I cut her off. “If you need anything, call me. I don’t care what time it is.”
“Thank you. I will.”
“Good girl.” I kissed the top of her head before standing.
I adjusted my bag on my shoulder, took a deep breath, and started climbing the stairs. I didn’t know which version of Ma I was about to get. The wild one ready to curse me out, or the ghost who barely remembered I existed.
When I pushed the door open, I almost turned right back around.
“This can’t be the right house,” I said under my breath.
The smell of old smoke and yesterday’s liquor was gone. Instead, I caught a faint whiff of… Febreze. The carpet was clean, vacuum lines still fresh like somebody gave a damn. A brand-new couch sat where the lumpy, cigarette-burned one used to be. A flat-screen TV was on the wall, still with the little sticker in the corner to show that it was new.
I set my bag down slow and started moving through the living room. My eyes scanned everything. The new couch, spotless carpet, even the damn TV remote neatly sitting on the armrest.
“Hell no,” I said, opening the kitchen cabinets. Stocked. The fridge was full. I damn near wanted to cry, seeing milk that wasn’t expired and fruit that didn’t look like it had been through slavery.
It wasn’t adding up. Did the city sneak somebody else in here behind my back and ship my mama’s ass off? I was halfway ready to cuss the housing authority out when I walked down the hall toward the bathroom. Just as I reached the door, it cracked open and my mama stepped out
She looked… clean.
