Page 69 of Body Language
No police cars. No flashing lights. No chaos.
Just the same neighborhood I grew up in. Same dudes on the corner posted up, same old heads sitting on milk crates watching the night crawl by, same smell of cheap weed and fried chicken in the air.
For a second, I thought maybe Zejah overreacted. Maybe I got myself worked up for nothing.
Then I saw her on the staircase that led up to my mama’s apartment.
My mama sitting on the steps with Zejah curled up in her lap like a baby.
The sight damn near knocked the wind out of me.
My mama. The woman who lost every nurturing bone in her body. Holding that little girl like she didn’t want her to feel alone.
Zejah’s face was buried in her chest, her thin shoulders trembling so hard.
My stomach twisted because that’s when I knew. It wasn’t about my mama.
It was about Zejah. Maybe she just lost someone or she just lost everything.
I froze on the sidewalk, staring. My relief came first and as fucked up as it sounded… it wasn’t my mama. I hated myself for it, but it was the truth. I wasn’t staring at a lifeless body. I wasn’t about to hear “she’s gone.” And that guilt ate me alive before I even made it to the steps.
I took a breath so deep it hurt and whispered under it, “Pull it together, Niv. She needs you right now.”
Me and Kendrix walked up the steps slow. The closer we got, the clearer I could see Zejah’s face. She was all blotchy, eyes swollen, snot spilling out of her nose. She was curled against my mama, shaking like a leaf.
I leaned down in front of her, putting myself eye level.
“Zejah, baby… what’s wrong?”
She looked at me like she was too scared to say, lips trembling, eyes darting everywhere but mine. My patience was thin, but I wasn’t about to press her and make it worse. Before I could open my mouth again, my mama leaned her head down, whispering something soft in her ear.
And that right there stopped me dead. Because, who the fuck was this woman?
This wasn’t the mama I grew up with. This woman had on clean clothes. Hair brushed back. Even a little gloss on her lips. Her arms wrapped around Zejah like she actually gave a damn.It felt foreign and like I was watching a stranger play dress-up as my mother.
Zejah sniffled hard and finally started talking through her tears.
“Me and my mama… we got into a fight.”
My eyes scanned her knees. Skin torn up. Fists scraped like she’d been swinging with everything in her.
My stomach twisted.
“Why?” I asked softly, even though I was already pissed at the thought of her mamma throwing hands with her daughter.
Zejah’s face crumpled all over again. Tears spilled faster. “Because… because she found out that I’m pregnant.”
“Oh… shit,” I said under my breath. I knew it wasn’t some simple little girl mistake. That was life-changing. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep my face calm, even though my insides were screaming.
Before I could even get another word out, my mama stood up fast, brushing off her jeans.
“Well, I gotta go smoke. Y’all got this.”
Typical.
She didn’t even wait for me to respond before walking back up the stairs to her apartment like she didn’t just drop me in the middle of a bomb going off. I rolled my eyes so hard I swear I saw the back of my brain. That was my mama all day. Dipping out when shit got too heavy. Apart of me wanted to snatch Zejah up and tell her to be grateful she even got those few minutes of comfort, because that was more than I ever got.
But watching her cry harder broke me a little. I sat down next to her and hugged her.
