Page 53 of Aug
“I’m supposed to. It’s only going to get harder and harder, because I’m not letting you walk. I can’t let you walk. I’ve got what you need, Tiana. I know I do. And, you’re going to let me show you or I’m going to send you to every nigga’s funeral that tries to block your view.”
“August–”
“I’m that fucking for real, Tiana. I’ll lay a hundred niggas do–”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Can we start over? Can we begin again?”
“No, August, we can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d rather pick up where we left off.”
My smile nearly split my face in half. I sat up in my seat, taking a look at Tiana. I needed to know she was for real and this wasn’t a fucking drill.
“Ti– you for real?”
“Yes. Now, stop asking me before I change my mind.”
“Can I come over?”
“Come over?”
“I just wanna be around you, Ti. I miss you bad.”
“Fine. But, you’re going to bed when you get there.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”
I stoodfrom the dining table with August’s plate in my hand. He hadn’t left a crumb on the glass. The fried cabbage, baked chicken, and corn were history the second I set them in front of him. Proudly, I watched as he cleared his plate and stalked the kitchen with his eyes, wondering if he should get more.
Happily, I made him a smaller helping. He demolished it as I finished my carefully proportioned servings. I put our plates in the sink and used the sprayer to wash off the remnants of supper.
Sade played in the background, mellowing us both out. It was the perfect end to an emotionally draining day. August was up on his feet, wiping down the table as I cleaned the dishes we’d dirtied.
I watched as he carefully sprayed it down and then grabbed paper towels. He nearly took the entire roll with him for the thirty-eight-inch surface. I didn’t bother telling him to limit his usage. I let him have his way.
Once he finished, he tossed the towels in the trash and removed it from the bin. He walked it through the living room,making sure it wasn’t dripping along the way. He set it outside my door for the valet and returned to the kitchen.
His arms snaked around my body. His head rested between my chin and shoulder. He inhaled, savoring my scent. I leaned into him, happy to have him in my space.
My heart shattered hearing of his loss. I wished I could bear some of the weight of his pain. But it was his to carry. However, I would do all I could to ease his road to recovery. I wasn’t sure if one ever recovered from a parent’s death, but I’d put my best foot forward in his attempt.
“I love you,” August whispered.
“I love you more.”
Just like that, we remained until the dishes were clean. I took August by the hand and led him to the shower. On the way over, I gathered two bath towels and two towels for drying.
“Don’t–”
I swatted his hands away, demanding he rest them near his sides. Slowly, I removed his shirt. Then his pants. His briefs. His socks. I began the shower and undressed as the water warmed.
The steam welcomed us both inside the glass doors. I removed a towel from the hook and placed it underneath the stream of water. Once it was drenched, I poured the fall-scented body wash in the center and lathered it until suds began spilling out of my palm.
I started behind August’s ears. Then, I cleaned his neck. His shoulders. His chest. His arms. His hands. His fingers. His sides. His stomach. His rigidness. His sack. His legs. His feet. His toes. I turned his body around, starting with his back. I didn’t make it past the upper half before his eyes were on me again.
