Kal / Calli
Sara crossed the front room and pulled the door open. Jabari stood on the porch with his hands loose at his sides, the air that came past him cool against her arms. The smile came up on her face as soon she saw him.
He stepped in and brought a hand to the small of her back, pulling her into him, and kissed her. Her palm came flat against his chest, the cotton of the t-shirt cool from the walk over, and she let it rest there a second before she stepped back to let him by, pushing the door shut behind him
“How was the trip back?”
Jabari shook his head, his shoulders rolling once under the shirt as he came into the room. “I can’t lie. No matter how many times I get in a helicopter, it just don’t feel right.”
Sara laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”
He held his hands up. “I do heights just fine. It’s helicopters I don’t like. Too many of them motherfuckers be crashing for my tastes.”
Sara rolled her eyes and waved for him to follow her. She led him into the kitchen, her feet soft on the hardwood, and pointed at the table.
“Sit.”
Jabari smiled and pulled a chair out, lowering himself into it with one arm coming to drape along the back of the one beside it. Sara opened the refrigerator, the cold coming off the shelves against her arm, and took out a glass container from the night before. She set it on the counter, pulled a plate down from the cabinet, and worked the lid off the container, the seal giving with a pull.
“You cooked for me?”
Sara snorted a laugh. “I cooked for Mireya. You’re just getting lucky that she didn’t take this back with her for her girlfriend.”
Jabari leaned back in the chair. “I’ll have to call and tell her thank you then ’cause I’m starting to get attached to your cooking.”
Sara worked the last of it loose with the edge of a fork, scraping the corners of the container clean, then pressed the food flat with the back of the fork, slid the plate into the microwave, and tapped the numbers in. She rinsed the container under the tap while it heated, her back to him, and set it upside down on the towel beside the sink.
Jabari watched her from the table, his eyes moving once across the counters, the blue cabinets, the marble over the sink, before they came back to her. The microwave beeped. She pulled the plate out and crossed to the drawer for a fork and a napkin. She set the plate down in front of him, laid the fork across the napkin beside it, and pulled the chair next to his out and sat.
Jabari looked at the plate, then at her. “You ain’t gonna eat?”
“I ate earlier when you said you’d be back in the morning.”
He picked up the fork and turned it once in his fingers. “Can’t put a time frame one when they let you off that boat.”
“I’m just messing with you.”
He cut into the food with the side of the fork and brought the first bite up, chewing it down slow with a nod to himself before he went back in for another. He ate like that for a minute, moving the fork through what was left, his shoulders turning a few degrees toward her. Sara folded an arm on the edge of the table and watched him work through a few bites.
“I’ve been thinking.”
Jabari stopped, the fork halfway back to the plate, and looked up. “About what?”
She lifted her hand off the table and gestured between the two of them. “This.”
He set the fork down against the rim of the plate and turned in the chair to face her. “You not into it anymore?”
Sara shook her head. “I just want to know what we’re doing.”
“What I should’ve did when we were in high school.” He held her eyes across the corner of the table. “Made you my woman.”
Sara laughed. “Calvin would’ve beat your ass.”
“I’d have bat the piss out him.” The smile stayed at the corner of his mouth, his voice coming down under it. “But I’m serious. You’re a good woman. Been one. I like this. I’m trying to get serious.”
Sara held the look for a beat. “Okay.”
His eyebrows went up. “Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Jabari shook his head and picked the fork back up, his shoulders coming down off the back of the chair. He cut off another piece and brought it up. “Had me scared for a bit there.”
Sara rolled her eyes and pushed the napkin an inch closer to his plate. “I wouldn’t have made you a plate if I was going to throw you out.”
Jabari laughed, his chest moving with it.
~~~
Sena lay on her bed with the phone propped against her knees, her thumb pulling the screen in long swipes that carried her past nothing she stopped for. The heater clicked on somewhere in the wall behind her, the warm air pushing out through the vent and settling across the room.
Priya’s voice came from the living room. “Sena! Your mom is here!”
Her eyebrows drew together. She turned the phone toward her and checked the screen, scrolling up through her messages. Nothing from her mother. She swung her legs off the bed and walked down the hall to the living room, her socks catching the carpet as she came through.
Minji stood near the center of the room in her coat with her purse still on her shoulder, her eyes locked on the chrome pole that ran from the floor plate to the ceiling in the gap between the couch and the TV. Her head was tilted a few degrees to the side, her lips pressed into a line. On the couch, Priya sat with her legs folded under her, the TV running a true crime documentary, a narrator’s voice laying out evidence over slow pans of a courtroom.
“Eomma, I didn’t know you were dropping by.”
Minji slowly looked away from the pole, her chin turning last, her eyes pulling off the chrome after. “I was passing by after going to the international market down the street. I thought maybe I’d catch the mysterious Rey here.”
“Eomma.”
Minji held a hand up. “I know. I know. His family does things a little differently.”
Priya glanced back at Minji from where she sat, her eyes moving once over the woman’s face, then found Sena. Sena’s eyes flicked to the TV. Priya held her hands up just high enough for Sena to see, then looked back at the screen.
“I told you after our exams.”
Minji shifted the purse higher on her shoulder, her weight settling into her other hip. “That’s not good enough for your appa. He said he was going to go down to the school and find this boy of yours if you don’t bring him to introduce himself properly.”
Sena crossed her arms over her chest. “I doubt he’d really do that.”
Minji shrugged. “Men are very protective of their daughters. I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Sena let a breath out through her nose. The documentary played behind them, a detective’s voice walking through a timeline, Priya’s eyes fixed on the screen in a focus that was far from real. Sena turned back to her mother.
“I promise. After my exams. You want me to study, right?”
Minji opened her mouth. “Yes, but—”
“Then I need to focus so I do well. I don’t want to fall behind more than I have from staying at UNO for two full years.”
Minji’s mouth closed. She looked at Sena for a beat, her purse strap sliding a fraction down her shoulder before she caught it with her hand and pushed it back. “Okay. After your exams. No later.”
“No later.”
Minji’s chin turned back toward the pole. Her eyes narrowed on it, her lips pressing together, the line of her mouth pulling tighter. She gestured at it with one hand, her fingers flicking toward the chrome. “You girls don’t get on that, do you? It’s very improper.”
“It’s Cassidy’s.”
Minji frowned, her head shaking in small pulls. “Never let a man see you have such things. He’ll never take you seriously.”
“Yes, eomma. I know.”
Minji made a tsk sound, the air clicking against her teeth twice, then stepped forward and pulled Sena into a hug. Sena’s arms came up around her mother’s back, the coat cool against her forearms, the purse strap pressing into her wrist. Minji’s hand patted twice between Sena’s shoulder blades.
“I will see you Sunday for lunch.”
“I’ll be there.”
Minji turned and walked to the door. She pulled it open, stepped out, and pulled it shut behind her without looking back.
Sena crossed to the door and turned the deadbolt. She stood there a second with her hand flat against the door, her weight forward, her eyes on the wood grain running in long lines under the paint.
Priya looked back over the couch, her chin resting on the cushion, the remote loose in one hand. “I’m going to assume the guy she was talking about is your girlfriend?”
Sena turned from the door, her back pressing against it, her arms folding over her chest. “Don’t remind me. I’m fucked.”
~~~
Mireya pushed the basket down the aisle with one hand on the bar, the fluorescent light flat and even across the tile, the wheels pulling a fraction to the left every few steps. The aisle stretched ahead of them, shelved on both sides from floor to the fluorescent panels, a woman with a cart ahead of them studying something on her phone with one hand and reaching for a box with the other.
Micaela’s car seat sat in the basket, the cover pulled over the top so only the edge of the blanket was visible where it tucked around her legs. Camila walked beside her with her fingers hooked into the pocket of Mireya’s jeans, her sneakers keeping pace in short steps that matched every other one of Mireya’s.
“Mami, when are we going see daddy again? It’s been long long.”
Mireya looked down at her. Camila’s face was tipped up, her chin lifted, her eyes catching the overhead light. “Next week, mi amor. He’s in Michigan now. Remember when we went there for Christmas?”
“With the snow.”
Mireya smiled. “Es verdad, mi amor.”
She stopped the basket in front of the canned goods and reached up, pulling a can of soup off the shelf. She turned it in her hand and read the label, her thumb running along the bottom edge where the nutrition panel wrapped around, then set it in the crook of her elbow and reached for another. She held both at arm’s length, her eyes moving between the two labels, then put one back on the shelf and kept the other.
She looked back down at Camila. “And we’re going to see him every week for a little while, too.”
Camila’s eyebrows furrowed, the lines pulling together between them. “Nuh uh. You said the games with the swirly A are ones we don’t go to.”
Mireya’s head tilted. “You looked at the schedule?”
Camila nodded, the motion quick.
“The next ones are all in Los Angeles. The game with the swirly A, too.”
Camila’s mouth dropped into an O, her eyes going wide, her whole body turning toward Mireya on the balls of her sneakers, one hand coming up to grip the edge of the basket. “Oh, so we can just stay with him the whole time!”
“We’ll see, baby.”
Mireya turned back to the basket and set both cans of soup inside it, fitting them against the edge of the car seat where they wouldn’t roll. She pushed the basket forward and started toward the end of the aisle. Camila’s fingers found her pocket again and she fell back into step.
Elena was coming from the other direction, her basket half full, her pace easy until she saw Mireya and it slowed.
Their eyes met across the gap between the aisles, Elena’s basket angled toward the produce section, her hair pulled back, a jacket zipped halfway up her chest. Elena stopped. She lifted a hand and waved, the motion small.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
Camila leaned forward past Mireya’s hip and her face opened up, her hand coming off the pocket and waving in wide arcs above her head. “Hey, prima!”
Elena’s face softened and she smiled at her. “Hey, Camila.”
Elena’s eyes moved from Camila down to the basket, to the car seat sitting inside it, the cover still pulled over the top. She took a step forward, her hand coming to rest on the edge of her own basket. “Is this the baby?”
Mireya reached forward and pulled the cover of the car seat down further, her fingers pressing the fabric into the rim until it held, the edge tucking under the frame, Micaela disappearing behind it. Her hand stayed on the cover for a beat before it came back to the bar. “Yeah, this is my baby.”
Elena stopped. Her hand came off the basket and she took a step back, her weight shifting onto her heels. “No te pongas así, Mireya.”
“Ya elegiste de qué lado estás. Era yo o ella.”
Elena looked at Mireya for a beat, her mouth pulling flat before it softened. “You don’t think you should end all that?” She gestured toward the car seat with her chin. “So she knows your mother.”
“She’ll never know Maria.”
Camila’s fingers tightened on Mireya’s pocket, the fabric pulling taut against Mireya’s thigh. Mireya looked down at her. Camila was looking up at her with her mouth closed, her eyes moving between Mireya’s face and Elena’s. Mireya looked back at Elena.
“I have to go. It was good seeing you, prima.”
Elena nodded, her hands finding the bar of her basket again. “You, too.”
Mireya tapped Camila’s shoulder with her free hand and tipped her chin toward the next aisle. “Vamos. Andémonos, mi amor.”
Camila’s fingers came off the pocket and she stepped forward, falling in beside the basket as Mireya pushed it past Elena. Camila turned back and waved again, her hand going up high. “Adios, prima.”
Elena smiled. “Adios.”
Mireya kept walking. Camila’s fingers found the pocket again, the fabric pulling once as she caught up, and the two of them turned into the next aisle, the wheels pulling left again.
~~~
Ramon pulled the door open and stepped into the Waffle House, the air hitting him with grease, coffee and the flat heat coming off the grill behind the counter. A waitress moved between the booths along the window with a pot in one hand and a rag tucked into her apron. Two men sat at the counter with plates in front of them, neither talking, their backs curved over their food. The TV above the register played a college football pregame on mute, the ticker scrolling scores no one was reading.
Jerron sat in the back corner in a booth facing the door. He had a chicken club on the plate in front of him, cut diagonal, one half gone. A glass of Coke with a napkin draped over the top sat near the edge of the table. His legs were stretched out under the booth, one arm along the back of the seat, his body taking up the space. He looked at Ramon when the door opened and didn’t move anything except his eyes.
Ramon walked past the counter and slid into the seat across from him. He didn’t order anything. He set his phone on the table face down and leaned back, his shoulders finding the vinyl.
Jerron picked up a fry from the plate, bit into it, and pointed the rest of it at Ramon as he chewed. “You the nigga that sent some lil’ niggas to find me.”
“Yeah, figured you’d be out here since you still working with the people.”
Jerron’s mouth worked around the fry. He swallowed and picked up another one, dragging it through a smear of mayo on the edge of the plate. “That’s the problem with you institutionalized nigga. Y’all don’t know when to make shit work to your advantage.”
Ramon shook his head. “Ain’t no advantage to working with the fucking people.” He turned his head and looked through the window at the parking lot, a truck backing out of a space, a woman walking toward the entrance with a kid on her hip. A sedan sat at the far end of the lot with its lights off, no one visible through the windshield. He watched it for a beat, his eyes tracking the shape of it, then looked back at Jerron. “You know anything about what them lil’ niggas were asking about?”
Jerron set the fry down and reached for a napkin from the dispenser at the edge of the table. He wiped his fingers one at a time, pressing the paper into the creases between them, then balled the napkin and dropped it on the table. “I don’t know what they were asking about. I need you to jog my memory.”
“They were asking if you know where to find good mirliton.”
Jerron laughed. He shook his head and picked up the other half of his sandwich, turning it in his hand to find where he’d left off. “I knew you were too smart to say that to me.”
Ramon leaned forward enough to rest his forearms on the edge of the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It was some nigga I ain’t never heard of before.”
Ramon repeated it back flat. “Never heard of.”
Jerron’s eyes came up off the sandwich. “That’s what I fucking said ain’t it.”
Ramon sat back in the booth. “Nah, I heard you.”
Jerron held the look for a beat, his jaw working once around the bite he’d taken, then went back to the sandwich. He chewed and swallowed and set what was left of it back on the plate, pressing his thumb against the corner of his mouth where a smear of mayo had collected. “Now you know I can’t give you more than that because the folks I work with frown on how nigga like you deal with information like that.”
“I’m just trying to find some good mirliton for my grandma. Anything other than that, I don’t know what you talking about.”
Jerron looked at him across the table. He reached over and pulled the napkin off the glass, brought it to his mouth, and took a long sip of the Coke, the ice shifting as the level dropped. He set the glass down and laid the napkin back over the top, smoothing the edges with two fingers until it sat flat. “You can let me get back to my dinner now. I got some business to take care of that I can’t be late for.”
Ramon pushed up from the seat, his palms pressing flat against the table for a second before he straightened. He stepped out of the booth and walked past Jerron’s side of the table, his hands going into his pockets.
“Ol’ police ass nigga,” he said under his breath.
Jerron shook his head as he watched Ramon push through the door and walk out across the lot, the glass catching his reflection for a second before it swung shut. He picked up the last fry on his plate and ate it.
~~~
Autumn came down the stairs and crossed toward the front door, her keys already in her hand, her jacket over the crook of her arm. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she crossed toward the foyer.
Garrison stood at the island with his laptop open in front of him, a glass of Bourbon half gone beside his elbow. He looked up as she passed, his hands going still on the keyboard.
“Got somewhere fun to go tonight?”
Autumn shrugged, her keys shifting in her palm. “We’re just going to a little party. Nothing serious.”
Garrison nodded, his fingers pausing on the keyboard. He closed the laptop halfway, the screen dimming as the hinge settled. “Let me talk to you right quick.”
Autumn walked over and leaned her hip against the counter beside him, her jacket folded over her arm between them, her free hand coming to rest flat on the marble. “What’s up?”
Garrison turned to face her fully, his hip finding the edge of the counter behind him, his arms folding loosely across his chest. “How’s this thing with Caine going?”
Autumn turned the keys once in her hand, the metal clicking against itself. “I think it’s good. I still struggle to deal with him being someone’s baby daddy but he’s patient with me and doesn’t seem to let that bother him.”
“That’s good. The kid’s a little rough around the edges, but he tries to do the right thing.” He paused. His mouth pulled at one corner, his hand coming up to scratch the side of his jaw, his eyes going to the ceiling for a beat before they came back down to her. “Most of the time. If we ignore when he chose to commit a few felonies.”
Autumn’s chin tipped down, her eyes leveling on him from under her brow. “Daddy.”
“Hey, I believe in giving people second chances. That doesn’t mean you forget what they did the first time for them to need a second chance.” He smiled when Autumn rolled her eyes. “So, you see it getting serious?”
Autumn nodded. “Yeah, I do. I like being around him. He’s just street enough to not be boring, but he’s not stuck in that mentality. He tries to better himself, tries to be a good man.”
Garrison leaned back against the counter on the opposite side, his arms folding over his chest. “That’s probably a positive about him having children. He’s thinking about more than himself. Thinking about how what he does will affect them.” His hand came up and tapped twice against the counter behind him, his weight shifting as he resettled.
Autumn’s arms uncrossed enough for one hand to come up, her fingers gesturing as she spoke. “He writes down all his views on shit for his older daughter. He doesn’t know I know, but he has dozens of these journals, filled with his thoughts.”
Garrison’s eyebrows lifted, the lines across his forehead deepening. “You mean you went snooping.”
Autumn shrugged, her mouth pulling into the grin. “Oppo data.”
Garrison shook his head, a laugh pressing through his nose. His arms uncrossed and he braced both hands on the counter behind him, his fingers curling over the edge of the marble. “I guess I only have myself to blame for that.”
He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, both arms wrapping around her shoulders, his chin coming to rest on the top of her head. She let her weight settle into him for a second, her arms folding between them, and he leaned back and kissed her on the forehead, his lips pressing warm against her skin. “I just wanted to make sure he was taking care of my baby.”
Autumn smiled before she stepped back. “I’d have told that nigga to fuck off a long time ago if he wasn’t.”
Garrison laughed, his head shaking once. Autumn picked her jacket up off the counter and slung it over her arm. She grabbed her keys from where she’d set them and walked toward the front door, her heels finding the hardwood again, Garrison already lifting the screen of his laptop back up behind her.
~~~
Caine sat with his chair tipped back on two legs, his cards face down under his palm on the table. Alonzo had his own pair pinched between two fingers, lifting the corners just enough to see them before pressing them flat again. Angel sat across from both of them with his legs wide under the table, his chair turned sideways so his arm could rest along the back of it. The hotel room was small for three of them and a folding table they’d pulled from the closet, one bed pushed against the wall to make space. A scattering of ones and fives sat in the center of the table between three community cards.
Caine looked at his two cards, then at the flop. He slid a couple of dollar bills off the stack in front of him and pushed them into the middle. “Y’all gonna have to fucking see me.”
Alonzo snorted a laugh as he pulled two bills from his own stack and matched the bet, tossing them onto the pile. “You keep talking that cash money shit and I’m gonna start demanding you put some real cash money on the table.”
“You ain’t got what I got in my bankroll so I’m just gonna bulldog your ass off the table.”
Angel shook his head, his weight shifting in the chair, one hand still holding his cards against the surface. “That’s why you can’t gamble with some niggas, ain’t no reason for you to be even thinking like that.”
Caine laughed. “C’mon, bruh. Make a decision.”
Angel looked at the flop one more time, then at his cards, then tossed them toward the center of the table. The cards slid across the surface and caught against the pile of bills. “Shit, I’m out.” He reached over and flipped the next two community cards, turning them face up one at a time.
Caine flipped his hand over. Alonzo looked at the cards, then at the board, then sucked his teeth. “That nigga be cheating on some shit, yeah.”
Caine picked up the four dollars from the center and slapped them down on the table in front of him, squaring the bills against the edge of his stack. “Gonna save this for when my kids come out to LA next week.”
Angel leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Like this nigga need that.”
“I’ll pick up a dime off the street. Money money.”
Alonzo gathered the cards and started shuffling, the edges snapping against each other. “Gutter ass nigga.”
The three of them laughed. Alonzo was still shuffling when the door opened and Cam walked in with Derron and Rachaad behind him, the three of them dressed like they were going somewhere, Cam’s chain catching the overhead light as he stepped past the threshold.
Cam looked at the table, at the folding chairs, at the pile of ones. “Y’all trying to make a run real quick?”
Alonzo set the deck down. “Where?”
“Got some bitches I lined up off IG.”
Derron leaned his shoulder against the wall by the door, his arms crossing over his chest. “Some track bitches, not really fine like in LA but they’ll do.”
Caine looked at Rachaad, who stood between Cam and Derron with his hands in the pockets of his sweats. “You rolling with them, too?”
Rachaad shrugged “I been on a lil’ drought. One of these bitches gonna be a nigga’s slump breaker.”
“At least get some bitches from Detroit then.”
Derron pushed off the wall. “That’s too far when the bitches right here. We ain’t got but an hour and a half before dinner.”
Alonzo tapped the deck against the table twice, squaring the edges. “How many it is?”
“Three or four.”
Alonzo shook his head. “Nah, I’m out. I ain’t trying to fuck behind y’all niggas.”
Rachaad grinned. “Like you ain’t done worse, nigga.”
Alonzo held his hands up, the deck still in one of them.
Angel stood up from his chair, the legs scraping against the carpet. “Shit, I’ll come. What they look like?”
Cam held his phone up, the screen turned toward Angel. Four white girls in Michigan track gear filled the frame. Angel looked at it for a beat, his head tilting a fraction, then nodded. “Yeah, they alright. Let’s go.”
Derron nodded toward Caine. “You coming?”
Caine shook his head. “I ain’t cheating on my girl for no mediocre bitches.”
Cam laughed, already turning toward the door, his hand finding the handle. “I forgot that nigga committed.”
The three of them filed out with Angel behind them, Angel lifting his chin at Alonzo on his way past the table. The door pulled shut and the room went still, the noise from the hallway cutting off.
Caine gestured toward the cards in Alonzo’s hand. “Go ahead and deal again, but your ass bet not cheat now that Angel gone.”
Alonzo grabbed the deck tighter and started dealing, flicking the cards across the table two at a time. “Shit, I’ll just beat your ass and snatch your shit now.”
“You’ll die in here, too.”
Alonzo shook his head as he set the deck down and picked up his cards. “Like I said. Gutter ass nigga.”
Caine laughed, his cards already off the table and in his hand.
