Page 39 of Cuffed By Your Love
“It was two years ago on a Sunday afternoon. She had just left the church and gone to the store a few blocks from our house. I’ll never forget what she went into that store for. She said she forgot to buy some butter, oregano, juice for EJ’s lunch the next day, hot chips, ginger ale, and allergy meds for me,” I got out while shaking my head in disbelief.
I swallowed hard, my voice now rough and gravelly. “I was on a call across town, a domestic gone sideways. I left my phone in the patrol unit like a damn fool. She called me twice and left voicemails saying some guys in masks were robbing the store.”
I paused and squeezed my eyes shut.
“By the time I returned to the car and checked my phone, it was too late. They had shot her, and the bullet had severed an artery. The paramedics tried, but…”
“You didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Jonay said softly.
“No,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion. “I have never been able to forgive myself for that. For not answering when she needed me. For not being there to protect her.”
The line went quiet, but her presence came through like a warm blanket on cold skin.
“You didn’t fail her,” she said gently. “You were doing your job. You couldn’t be in two places at once, Elias.”
“She was scared, Jonay. And alone. That’s what eats at me.”
“No, she wasn’t alone. She was loved. Deep down, I believe she knew you would have come if you could. That love is what she left this world feeling.”
I didn’t respond at first, because I couldn’t bring myself to do so. For the first time in two years, I truly believed that what she had just said might be true.
“Thank you for saying that,” I finally whispered.
“Thank you for trusting me with it,” she replied.
There was a brief pause. Then she added with a soft smile in her voice, “Get some rest, Detective Fine Shyt.”
I let out a slight sigh of relief and snickered at her calling me a nickname she’d designated for me, similar to the one I’d been calling her.
“You too, Miss Jacobson.”
And we hung up. But sleep didn’t come easily that night. Grief had company now, and her voice sounded a lot like hope.
I gotoff my shift feeling like I had just survived psychological warfare. I had to de-escalate a fistfight over oatmeal pies, break up a full-on twerk contest between two inmates who claimed to be TikTok famous, and listen to a grown man cry about his baby mama blocking him because he didn’t know his son was allergic to strawberries. I was done. My spirit felt sticky, and my nerves were fried, much like my favorite catfish plate from Mama J Nolia’s Kitchen in South Self.
When I got home, I didn’t turn on the TV or check my notifications. Instead, I headed straight to the bathroom. I turned on my favorite playlist, letting Snoh Aalegra’s soothing voice fill the air as I began my routine. Wash day wasn’t just about my hair; it was a time for rebirth. I parted my locs with oil-slicked fingers, scrubbing my scalp as if I was trying to massage away the stress of the week. Then, I deep conditioned my hair, using my special mixture of shea butter, coconut oil, avocado oil, and honey.
After rinsing everything out, I braided my locs into sections and lit my fancy candle, Joy is My Birthright, which had notes of lemon zest, magnolia, and jasmine from the Black-owned candle shop, Wicks & Wisdom. It filled the room with a scent that felt like “rich auntie energy.”
Then, I sank into a tub full of my very own creation from my Soak & Soothe Collective, using my Boundaries & Bubbles foaming bath elixir that I created, which combined rose quartz and jasmine. The sweet, floral scent, infused with rosewater, aloe vera, and liquid serenity, helped wash away the stress of the day. I exfoliated my skin, applied oil generously as if I was auditioning for a Nefertiti sculpture, and treated my body with the kind of care I usually reserved for guests. But tonight, the company was just me.
I was finishing up braiding my hair when my phone buzzed on the vanity. At first, I thought it was Elias, but the number wasn’t saved. I hesitated for a moment and then swiped open the message.
Unknown Number:
Hey boo, this Jazz—Elias’s sister. Don’t be alarmed lol, I stole your number out his phone. I knew his goofy ass was gon’ act like he ain’t smitten. He the kinda man who’ll fall in love with a woman’s silence and still be acting like he “just vibing.” You seem solid. If he ever get on your nerves, I accept payment in peach cobbler and crab legs, and I’ll handle up on him for you. Get him together in only the way a big sister can, type shit
I snorted so loud, I damn near stabbed my scalp with a braid pin. Jazz was bold and petty—my kind of woman.
Me:
Not you stealing my number like a petty saint. But thank you. It’s nice to meet you. And yea… your brother has been real solid. His presence calms me when everything feel like it’s burning down.
Jazz :
Girl… that man BEEN needing somebody soft who knows how to handle his rough. I’m rooting for y’all. Be good to each other.
Her words lingered in my mind like the coconut oil I had just applied to my hair—soft, protective, smooth, and comforting. A big smile spread across my face.
