Page 30 of Saint Baptiste 2

“Hm?” I quickly answered, shifting my attention from the sun, to her, as she sat down in the rocking chair.

Damn. I wasn’t supposed to look at her, was I? She could see me. I wondered what she thought about me now. Wondered what she really thought. Did she still want me around? Did she still love me? Or did she think I was as pitiful as her eyes told me she thought I was?

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How am I looking at you? Girl?—

“Stop looking at me like that, Sienna. For real.”

I didn’t like for people to look at me for too long. Not if they weren’t looking at me with fuck me eyes. She scrutinized me. She thought I was crazy. She didn’t have to say it, I could practically read her mind. I mean hell, I looked every bit of it. Everything about the last couple of months said I was losing it. I hadn’t been very ‘Naokiesque’. The shit at the Ladies’ Night, NeNe telling her my business, not answering her calls, pulling up at my house to find me climbing out of Chase’s car looking the way I was looking. I would never go out with a man like that. With my hair in a got damn bun? In gym shoes? Barefaced? I was crazy. She thought I was crazy. And since the bitch was in therapy she was trying to psychoanalyze me. Treating me like some?—

“Naoki... Please,” She nonchalantly replied, disregarding my attitude. “Anyway, I made breakfast. You need to eat I?—”

“I know. I smelled it when I woke up,” I quickly replied, with my arms crossed over my chest. “I was going to grab something on my way out but?—”

“You’re not leaving. You might as well get comfortable because bitch you owe me a conversation,” she cut in.

I glanced over at her, and she was popping her titty in Baby Jah’s mouth. There was nothing new about that. She always breastfed in front of me. However, there was something in her tone that was very different. She was such a fucking mother now. The authority was so... final. Like it was her way and no other way. I didn’t like it. But what was I supposed to do? Ruin the only friendship I had left?

My mind began to race. I had to find a way out. A way out that wouldn’t risk us. I couldn’t lose her. Every escape I came up with, would end us. Sienna was… she meant so much to me. Everything to me. I could say that without feeling weird about it. She was all I had. I couldn’t lose the only person I had. I…I had no way out. I had to be honest. But… if I was honest, if I showed her who I really was, she would probably leave me anyway. There was no winning. There was no?—

“I’ve been very patient with you, Ki. But I’m done,” she said with a condescending laugh. “I’ve been patient enough. Yo know how I feel about boundaries but there’re boundaries and then there’s this. You’re... I don’t know. You’ve been really fucking off lately and?—”

“Why do you want to talk so bad? So you can have something to tell your fucking sister? Hmm? I heard you on the phone earlier. It was NeNe right? You tell her about last night? I know you did.” I laughed. “Man! Why won’t she just mind her muthafucking business? Look ain’t shit to talk about. I don’t have anything for you to feed that bitch. Nothing for y’all to gossip about. Mmkay? Probably been talking shit about me since Ladies’ Night.”

I was pacing. I flew off the handle. I was pissed. Pissed because I didn’t have anywhere to run. Pissed because I didn’t have a mask and she... she was cornering me in. I was like a child, having a tantrum. I just wanted to be left alone. Just wanted Sienna to stop asking me what was wrong. Just... I didn’t want to fucking talk about it.

Sienna didn’t say anything. I didn’t even feel her eyes on me. I didn’t want her eyes on me. But not having them on me made me feel like she was done. Like, she didn’t care. And for some reason, the way she didn’t care... it made me sink further. I was so far from the surface that I didn’t know if there even was a way out. Had I already lost her? Shit… fuck it. Sienna was at her breaking point. I felt it. I could see it. It was written all over her face. And last night it was loud. Not because she was yelling. The yelling… it meant nothing. Arguing and yelling wasn’t anything new to us. It was the undertone. It was the pain behind the yelling. And today? Today she was calm. She gave me silence. That meant she was tired of me. Cool. That was done. We were done.

I laughed. Huffed a little. But really, it was just to hide the pain. I was hurt. Severely. To my core. I hadn’t felt pain like that in years. It sent me walking straight toward the door. I wanted to at least kiss Baby Jah goodbye but... I needed to cry, and I couldn’t cry in front of her.

Before I could walk out of the room, she said, “You know I love you, right, Ki?”

My bottom lip trembled and the tears I didn’t want to cry in front of her built. They grew with every passing second. I tried to hold them back but there was this uncomfortable pain in my neck. All I had to do was release and the pain would subside. All I needed to do was cry. But... she was behind me. Our backs were to one another but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t hear the tears in my voice.

“Um,” I paused and shifted around a bit. Tried to swallow that pain, but the longer I resisted, the more it hurt.

Finally, I released them. Let them flow. And my God, I crumbled. I couldn’t control myself. It was as if everything I’d been holding onto for the last decade erupted from the deepest depths of my soul. It was explosive. Like snipping the red wire on a detonated bomb, when you should’ve snipped blue.

When I fell to the floor, I heard Sienna get up from the rocking chair. She laid Baby Jah down and then, instead of telling me to get up, joined me. She wrapped her arms tight around my body and with as much strength as she could muster up, pulled us both against the closed door. I was deadweight but she didn’t let go of me. Didn’t complain. Instead, she just held me and let me cry. Resting against her, I continued to cry that uncontrollable, body quivering, gut wrenching cry I prayed I’d forget about tomorrow.

“Please Ki. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong,” she softly pled once I calmed down.

Talk to her.

Tell her what’s wrong.

What was I supposed to say?

Where was I supposed to start? Age ten? Or… was I supposed start at eight? I couldn’t talk to her. I couldn’t tell her what was wrong. Not everything at least. Not yet.

“I can’t,” I whispered with a shaky breath.

“I’m worried about you, sis.”

“Don’t be,” I mumbled. “Don’t worry about me. You can’t worry about me.”

She lifted her head, leaned over and looked me in the face. “How can’t I worry about you? And you don’t talk to me?”

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