Page 40 of Wings of Ebony
“N-no.” I stumble backward. “I-I’m sorry.” My cheeks burn with shame. What was I thinking walking up these steps like it’s still my place? Another step backward and the stranger slams the door of my home shut. Tasha stands there still staring, tears twinkling on her cheeks.
I turn to comfort her and…
“Rue, baby? That you?” Her voice is gentle and aged. I’d know its ring anywhere.
Ms. Leola.
I turn and she gasps, fragile fingers covering her mouth. She looks the absolute same in her flowy house dress—like an African queen. It’s deep green, bright blue, and a rich purpley-pink with a head wrap to match. Dry coils of white hair peek beneath its edge.
Tasha hovers behind me, eyes still glued to Moms’s old door.
I get it, looking away is like saying goodbye all over again.
Ms. Leola makes her way down her stoop with shaky steps.
I rush to help her down, but stop myself. She takes each step careful, trembling that way some older folks do. Ms. Leola kept me every day after school. Once Moms got over Aasim leaving, she hustled hard—three jobs and weekend classes. She was gonea lot. Then Tasha came along, so she worked even more.
Those years Ms. Leola made sure we ate. T was younger so she may not remember as much, butSesame Streeton Ms. Leola’s plastic- covered couch was my every morning till I was old enough for school. And even after that I lived at her house basically every weekend until I was old enough to stay alone.
“I don’t believe my eyes, Che.” Closer now, she reaches to caress my cheek, but I pull my face away.Touch. She can’t touch me.She doesn’t seem to notice because her smile deepens. Scents of gardenia potpourri wrap around me like a blanket.
“These old eyes must be broken. I can’t belie—Rue?”
I nod, grinning. I’m a child again.
Ms. Leola wraps a fragile arm around me and squeezes. My hoodie keeps our skin from touching, so I lean into her comfort, like a fire in the middle of a winter storm. Her hug is strong and everything comes back in a rush.
The lady ripping Tasha from my arms…
Hearing my little sis plead for me to go with her…
Ms. Leola holding me, rocking back and forth, when the pain was so sharp all I could do was scream.
Her arms are walls around me, holding me together. Being here again, seeing that stranger on the stoop where Moms should be, it’s all too much.
I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough.
I’m limp in her arms, so fragile the wind couldwhooshand shatter me into pieces.
“It’s alright, child.” She pats my back and I nestle into that nook between her jaw and shoulder, careful to keep our skin from touching.
“Oh baby, just let it all out.”
I do.
Hot tears coat my face, soaking her collar. I weep for Moms. I weep for the friends I left here. For time I can never get back. I weep for Tasha. I weep for Aasim. It’s like someone’s ripped out stitches from a gushing wound.
It hurts.
So bad.
Her brown eyes are cloudy, wrinkled and old like her cocoa skin. “Now, now, Che. It’s gon’ be alright. You’re a survivor. A fighter. The strongest person I know, ya hear?”
I’m supposed to be the strong one, the one who holds it down when Moms is away. I weep and weep some more.
I smooth my cheeks clean.
She pets my head. “My Jelani.”
