Page 233 of Kentrell

I’d seen the old pictures—her and Auntie Zonda back in their heyday. Always dressed, always beautiful, always… powerful in a way I didn’t fully understand back then. Even now, they were still considered baddies. Still had men staring when they walked into a room. But this… this was different.

“How did you…” I started, then let the words hang, because I didn’t even know what I was really asking.

“I was rebellious,” she admitted, her voice thick with old regret. “Angry at my mama for working all the time, barely coming home… like she had a choice.”

I stayed quiet, letting her fill the air with her memories.

“I thought she was dodging me and Zonda,” she went on, a hollow chuckle sliding out like she hated the sound of it. “Your auntie stayed kicking my ass behind my mama. Always telling me I was ungrateful and hateful. Back then, I swore the both of ‘em were against me… but they were right. I didn’t appreciate the roof over my head. The clothes she could afford. The fact that she was busting her ass to keep me from selling mine.”

She let that sit. Heavy. Unapologetic.

“And despite all her sacrifice… I still let the thrill of fast money, pretty clothes, ballas, and whatever else my young, dumb self wanted at the time… pull me under.”

I couldn’t say anything to that. My throat locked up. The tears kept falling—silent and hot—because all I could think about was how I’d judged her.

Judged her the moment I saw her and Darius together.

In my head, she was the worst kind of woman… a kept woman. Living off a man’s pocket, letting herself be some long-kept secret.

But she’d done everything she could to give me the opposite life.

And I… I’d been judging her based on the fairytale she painted for me.

Her breath hitched again, and when she spoke, her voice trembled. “I lied to protect you. I wanted you to walk into every room like you belonged there. Like you deserved to be there. Not like you had to earn your way out of what I came from.”

I sat up straighter, wiping my face with both hands, sniffling as my heart cracked wide open.

My mother’s voice softened even more, shaking under the weight of her confession. “And you did, baby. You did it. You made something outta nothing. You became someone even I couldn’t have imagined. And I was scared that if you ever knew the truth… you’d feel like none of it was yours.”

More tears blurred my vision.

And for the first time… I saw her.

Not just my mama. Not just the woman I loved.

But the girl she used to be.

Pokie.

“I just wanted to be proud of you,” she whispered, her voice breaking at the edges.

“I’m proud of you,” I said, pushing the words out through the lump clogging my throat. “For surviving. For protecting me… the best way you knew how.”

There was a beat of silence, then I heard her sniffling on the other end.

“I could never stop loving you, Mama. Never.” My voice cracked again, but I kept going, wiping tears as fast as they fell. “I was so mad at you… angry because I thought I had you figured out. Like you waited all this time just to… to defile yourself with somebody who didn’t deserve you. Because he was married… and he was never gonna leave his wife.”

The words felt ugly coming out, but I needed to say them.

“I thought you were making the worst mistake,” I sniffled, swallowing hard. “But I was wrong. And I’m not judging you for your past. I just… I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me sooner.”

“I wanted to,” she breathed. “But some truths… some of them… you gotta be strong enough to carry. And I didn’t think you were ready.”

“Maybe I wasn’t.” I let out a slow exhale, steadying my voice. “But I am now.”

We sat there, tangled in a fragile but necessary silence. The kind that comes after two people rip off every bandage and start letting the wounds breathe.

And just when I thought we might finally land on some peace, she cleared her throat and asked, carefully, “How much… do you really know about Kentrell?”

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