Page 44 of This: Blake & Emon

“Ain’t seen Pilar’s funky ass,” Aaliyah muttered and shrugged. Blake stifled back a laugh. Aaliyah was the one without the patience, Blake could tell.

“Understood.”

“I’m Emon and this is my girl, Blake. We gon’ figure something out for y’all.”

“We don’t need handouts.”

“Word? So, you want a criminal record, and for you and your sisters to be separated? Is that what you need, young man?”

“Ain’t nobody taking my sisters.”

“Good, that’s how it should be. Now listen, get ya head out ya ass. Let me help y’all.” Emon truly didn’t have time for the bullshit or for a fifteen-year-old to tell him a damn thing. Pride was always going to be one of the master’s he never wanted to serve. And Jacques couldn’t either if he wanted to protect his sisters. There was no way he was going to be able to do it alone.

Emon stepped away to call his mom. He didn’t trust anyone else and these kids couldn’t go back to a home with no power and alone. He just wasn’t that type of guy. Feeding them was only half of their issue, so he had to find them a place to lay their heads, if only for the night. Emon didn’t doubt his mom, but was glad she agreed to let them stay with her for the night, or at least until Emon could get the lights back on in the morning.

“Aight, come on,” he said as the kids loaded up in the backseat of his truck. This whole situation had soured Blake’s mood, but she loved seeing her man spring into action with no reservations.

The kids rode in silence as he stopped here and there to take care of what he could for the night. He made sure they had groceries, a cell phone with his number saved, the necessities, and a few outfits each. He’d explained to Jacques that he was going to be working off his debt for the window at the pantry, so he needed to find his way to him by Wednesday. He didn’t want a handout, so Emon wouldn’t give him one. Plus, the saying of teaching a man to fish and him being able to eat forever still rang true.

“Thank you, Mr. Emon and sorry about earlier,” Jacques said, still shielding his sisters.

“Don’t worry about it. Come on, so I can introduce you to my mom. She’ll take care of you until we can figure something else out.”

Emon took the kids inside and introduced them to his mom, who was excited to have some company, even if it was for just one night.

“Ma, I’m sorry about all of this. I couldn’t leave them alone.”

“Don’t apologize to me for having a good heart. It’s how I raised ya.”

“Ma, they ain’t got nowhere else,” he said quietly after getting the kids settled in the living room with their new clothes and supplies. “Lights off, no food, and the mama being gone is a known habit.”

“How long has she been gone?” ViceAnne asked, already making up beds.

“I don’t know, but he said it’s been three days since they ate.”

“A damn shame. See, that makes me wanna tie my shoes up and pull my earrings off if you know what I mean.”

“Relax, I’ll get the lights handled tomorrow, but they need somewhere stable tonight.”

“Tonight?” His mother’s gold teeth flashed. “Baby, these children ain’t going nowhere. Not until we figure something real out.”

“You sure? That’s a lot to take on-”

“Boy, please. I can see the wheels turning in that big head of yours. We will figure it out. Go on and head home. I’ll call if we need anything.” She started pulling extra blankets from the closet.

After making sure they were settled, he said a prayer before sliding back into the car. He thanked God he had the resources to help, and he prayed for the safety of everyone involved. He wasn’t even sure if he was legally supposed to have these kids, but he cared about compassion way more than he cared about the law. It was still fuck 12.

It was just the two of them back in the car, and the friction and silence had come back. Blake wanted to end it and not take this to bed. She was wrong, but she hoped he understood.

“Bae, I’m sorry,” she muttered between yawns, her voice soft, like she was speaking more to herself than to him. The silence between them was heavy, a space where their usual ease had dissolved. She glanced his way, hoping to catch his eye, but his attention stayed fixed on the road.

He exhaled slowly, gripping the wheel a little tighter. The whole night had worked on his nerves and stressed him a little bit. Streetlights flickered across her face, illuminating the guilt written on her features. Even now, with her unsure and apologetic face, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You hurt a nigga feelings earlier,” he admitted quietly. The words felt simple but carried weight. His vulnerability had always been his strength, and he needed her to know her doubt cut deep. “I ain’t never gave you a reason to question my character like that.”

She sighed, and Emon pulled over on the side of the road, tired himself from the ripping and running he’d done on his Sunday off, but he didn’t care. Being a good person was just who he was. This was his way of paying back the community for the havoc he’d caused back in the day. It was owed. The same way that cop looked at those kids was the same way he had been viewed before. Like trash, a lost cause. He hoped he’d get the opportunity to show Jacques that he could make something of himself. He was living proof.

“I know and I’m sorry. I was out of pocket.”

---