Page 307 of Invisible Bars
Dessign sucked her teeth. “Mm-hmm. Don’t worry, nephew—Auntie gon’ remind you one day that I wasn’t invited to your grand entrance.”
I shook my head, already knowing she’d never let that go. If I lived to be a hundred, Dessign would still be somewhere reminding him,“Your mama and daddy robbed me of my Auntie spotlight! I was supposed to be her doula, her cheerleader, and her hype woman—but nooo, they cut me out!”Knowing her, she’d probablyput that in his baby book under ‘first betrayal’.
“Congratulations, bro. That’s yo’ twin right there,” Chi chimed in.
“Preciate it, bro.”
Chi continued. “He’s already frowning like somebody owe him some money… and he got a strong brow. Probably alreadythinking about generational wealth. My nephew gon’ have an LLC, a savings account, and a side hustle by kindergarten.”
“Look at who his daddy is!” Dessign exclaimed. “Knowing my brother, he probably already filed the paperwork!”
Imanio nodded slowly with pride. “Damn right.”
“Now,sis,” Dessign said, dragging the word for emphasis. “You know I love you. You had a whole baby… beautiful moment… blessings and all that…” She paused dramatically, head tilted. “but you gon’ have to go and hurry up and heal, boo!Wegot a whole project to finish! If you stay in that hospital too long, people gon’ start thinking you’re bougie. You ain’tTina, but I’ma need for you to speed up this recovery likeIketold her! You’re lying there looking like a soft commercial for Huggies, but I need you up and back to work! I’m trying to launch a collection, not wait on your six-week clearance!”
The whole room erupted in laughter.
Chi was dying laughing, though. “Baby done turned intofashionIke Turner. ‘You gon’healtoday, Tina!’”
“Yes! We have fittings, mood boards, sketches, designs to approve, and adaptive samples. My nephew got a name; now let’s give thebrandone!”
I smiled, tired but happy, because I knew Dessign meant every word—and beneath all that sass and humor was nothing but love.
I leaned back against the pillow, their banter still echoing as I slipped into my thoughts.
What started as a wild idea during a vent session had become our mission. A fashion line for people like us—people with disabilities, visible differences, and unique needs that no mainstream designer seemed to consider unless it came with a charity tag and a sad song in the background.
The $25,000 Blu gave me sat untouched and hidden for months, like a scar I never wanted to talk about. Alongside that,Imanio had given a generous donation. Together, both were enough for my share of the investment. Imanio had no clue the 25, 000 even existed, and as far as I was concerned, he never would.
Some secrets didn’t need confession; they needed to be transformed, repurposed into something better than the mess they came from.
I told Dessign I would model again, butonlyif I could walk, tic, and curse down a runway with no apologies. She said if I was brave enough to do that, she’d build the line around me.
And she did.
Everything she sketched had purpose—stretch stitching, magnetic closures, seated-fit designs. Nothing that looked "special needs." Everything lookedfly.
Dessign had dreams too—real ones, including her name on the tags, her vision on the runways. I wanted to see that happen for her as well. But the truth was, we were all in this together: a girl with Tourette’s and a woman in a wheelchair, building something that had never been done for people like us.
This project means everything to us. This isn’t just fashion; it’s identity. I may be stitched up and healing, but I’m not out. I’ll be back, and this time, the runway wouldmovefor us.
A little update from everyone else. Imanio’s and Dessign’s dad is somewhere out here living like the sun don’t set. His Caribbean girlfriend keeps him smiling, and I can’t even be mad at it. Right now he’s just having fun, letting the breeze carry him wherever it wants. Marriage? He says that’s off the table forever… but life has a funny way of changing a person’s “never.” Time will tell.
Now, Giselle… that’s another story. Unlike Imanio, who was done with her—at least for now—Dessign had atinysoft spot for their mom. So she gave her an ultimatum: a decent, paid-off house… but one located in the hood to remind her that pridewon’t pay the bills and actions carry consequences. Or… she could figure it out on her own. For once, Giselle swallowed that pride of hers and chose the house.
It’s funny how life will strip a person down until humility is their only option. One minute you’re standing on top of the world, and the next you’re learning how to survive on ground you once swore you’d never touch again.
And for Giselle, that cut deeper than most—because she was the type to look down on people in the hood, even her own family, forgetting she once lived there herself. Dessign knew that, which is exactly why she planted her back in the same soil she swore she’d outgrown. It wasn’t about punishment; it was about perspective. Pride had blinded Giselle for so long that the only way to strip it away was to sit her in the middle of the very community she judged, to remind her that the hood doesn’t care about your last name, your titles, or your past money; it will treat you like everybody else.
Giselle has even picked up a new hobby—painting. Brushes and canvases keep her busy now, and she actually makes a little money from it. Maybe art was always buried under those diamonds and designer bags.
She’s tried apologizing to me since, but words can’t erase poison once it’s spilled. Too much was said, and I’m not the type to pretend the scars don’t itch. If we rebuild anything, it’ll take time—and even then, I don’t know if it’ll ever be what she hopes.
Some doors don’t close all the way, but they don’t swing back open easy either.
As for her Imanio and Giselle? They haven’t spoken since that night at the hotel. If there’s one thing about my husband, it’s that his silence speaks louder than his rage.
People think holding a grudge is weakness, but sometimes it’s just knowing peace costs too much to keep buying the same pain.
