Page 2 of Invisible Bars
“Naji, I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re going to have to try to control your tics, especially when I’m gone. All these years I’ve been your calming presence, the peace that has helped you manage them, but when I’m not here, it willjust be you. We both know how cruel this world can be, filled with judgment and misunderstanding, but I don’t want you to let your tics define you or keep you sheltered in fear of having episodes in public. That brings me back to what I was about to ask you. What do you plan to do when I’m gone?”
“I’m just going to stay h-here in this house, Nana Li. I have everything I need right here—my books, my phone, the TV, and my comfortable routine. I don’t even have to step outside for food. Thank God for Walmart Delivery; they bring everything to your doorstep.”
Nana Li shook her head slowly. “I knew you were gonna say that,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “But baby, eventually you’re gonna have to leave this house forsomething.You still need to go to your doctor appointments, remember? Those are important. Your healthmatters, Naji.”
I shrugged slightly, eyes flickering toward the window.
“I know. I’ll make sure to still go there. I… I trust my doctor. He understands my condition. H-He always takes his time and never rushes me. I don’t feel judged there, so I don’t worry too much about having an outburst… or t-too many, while there.”
Nana Li nodded, her voice softer now. “I’m glad you have a great relationship with your doctor; I really am. But what I’m saying is, you can’t stay in this house forever, baby. Look at this place. Yes, it’s cozy and familiar, but is this really where you want to spend the rest of your life? I’m not just talking about the house… I meanthis town.”
She glanced around the room, her eyes lingering on the chipped paint by the window and the faded floral curtains.
“There’s a whole world out there, Naji,” she continued gently. “Full of people, places, and experiences you haven’t even dreamed of yet. And yes, it’s scary. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it.”
We lived in Tishomingo, Mississippi—a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of town with a population small enough that if someone missed church on Sunday, the pastor would be at their door by Monday. It had charm… sure. But it also had limits, quiet streets, fewer expectations and just enough comfort to trap a person if they weren’t careful.
The house we resided in had been built by my grandfather fifty years prior—a gift of stability and hope when he married my grandmother. It had witnessed decades of love, loss, Sunday dinners, and stormy nights. It hadhistory, but history wasn’t the same thing asa future. And somewhere deep inside… I knew Nana Li was right.
Nana Li smiled faintly, the corners of her lips lifting just enough to reveal a kindness that still radiated from her, despite the dark circles of fatigue beneath her eyes.
“Okay, baby… it’s time for Nana to get some rest. And Naji, sweetheart, I’m fine… really. I appreciate you worrying about this little ol’ lady, but you don’t have to keep checking on me. This rest,” she added with a soft chuckle, “is just preparing me to meet my King Jesus.”
I forced a small smile, feeling a sharp pang in my chest. I hated how she spoke about dying so calmly—like it was merely another chapter, not the closing of a beloved book.
“Okay, Nana Li,” I whispered, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek. Her skin was warm and soft against my lips. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, baby,” she murmured, her eyes already drifting shut.
I waited a few minutes before standing. Then, moving quietly, I made my way to the lamp on the bedside table. My hand paused on the switch. I looked back at her—at the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing filled the quiet room like a lullaby. Those days, it didn’t take long for her tofall asleep. The days were growing shorter, and so too were her moments of wakefulness.
I stood there for a moment longer, absorbing the fragile beauty of her resting face against the pillow. My heart ached with the weight of reality, aching with the need to hold on… just a little longer.
Finally finding the courage to leave her in peace so she could rest, I wandered into my room, my mind swirling with thoughts heavy and bittersweet. I collapsed onto my bed and reached for my portfolio. Inside were images I’d captured on my own, the very ones I dreamt would one day launch my modeling career.
When I turned sixteen, Nana Li gifted me a high-quality camera. She always said I was the most beautiful girl in the world and swore I had what it took to be the next Tyra Banks. I used to laugh at that, brushing off her compliments as just the sweet talk of a biased grandmother. But something about the way she said it made me want to believe it.
With each click of the shutter, I started to internalize her faith in me. I began seeing what she saw—strength behind my eyes, elegance in my posture, something worth capturing. By the time I turned seventeen, the compliments from strangers became more frequent, echoing the very things Nana Li had said all along. And for the first time, I started to believe that maybe I did have a shot… maybe I could actually make my mark in the modeling world; not just for me, but for her.
To prove she was right.
I traced my fingers over one of my favorite photos, a shot that captured the essence of everything I wanted to be. My dream was clear: I wanted to be a runway model, walking the catwalk in high-fashion editorials, collaborating with top designers for exclusive campaigns. I knew the criteria—agencies had their standards. The age range for runway models typicallyfell between sixteen and twenty-one, and I was right in the sweet spot at nineteen.
At 5’9”, with a slim physique and a flawless espresso-toned complexion that looked like it had been kissed by warm sunlight. I met the measurements agencies drooled over: a 36B bust, 26-inch waist, and 35-inch hips. I wasn’t the tallest, but I knew some agencies were willing to bend the rules for the right face. And mine? It turned heads in every room I walked into.
High cheekbones that could slice through silence, full lips with a natural pout that didn’t need gloss to shine, and almond-shaped eyes framed by thick lashes that gave just the right amount of mystery. My jawline was sharp enough to be on the cover of every high-fashion magazine, and my brows had that perfect arch that made every makeup artist I’d ever worked with lose their minds. With a beauty that mirroredTeyana Taylor’s—bold, edgy, and unforgettable—I was the kind of young lady that people stared at and whispered about, wondering where I came from and how I looked like that without trying. Still, even with all that, doubts lingered.
Was I really ready? Was this the right time?
Feeling my tiredness creeping on, I gently set the portfolio aside and prepared myself for a much-needed good night's rest.
Lying in bed, enveloped by the darkness of my room, I stared up at the ceiling. My grandmother’s words about my future replayed in my mind, urging me to think about the possibilities that lay ahead.
A wave of uncertainty washed over me, and I couldn’t help but wonder, “What’s a girl to do?”
Three months later...
“O-Oh my God! I can’t believe this!” I whispered, my voice breaking as tears slipped down my cheeks.
