Page 21 of Certified Pressure 2
Toni was seated across from me, and I couldn’t even lie—she was holding her own. Somehow, she had Abeni laughing, telling stories about growing up in her neighborhood, about how she used to cook with her grandmother, and how her family used to gather every Sunday for meals. Toni’s voice was animated but respectful, and the way Abeni leaned in to listen to her let me know she was making an impression. I almost couldn’t believe it. Out of all of us, Toni was the one I thought might get overlooked, but she had Abeni, someone so regal and sophisticated smiling like she was enjoying herself.
On the other side of the table, Ka’mari was shrinking smaller by the second. She hadn’t said much since the food was served, and the little she did say went ignored. Abeni would glance at her every now and then, then look away just as quick, like there was something she wanted to address but was choosing not to. Watching it made me feel good in a way I wasn’t ashamed of. Ka’mari had been so loud about knowing how to act in front of them, so confident she was the expert because of her past, but right now she was the one fading into the background.
Meanwhile, Pressure sat beside his father, and the two of them carried a different kind of conversation. It wasn’t business heavy, but just enough to show me how much respect he had for Kojo. He listened intently, answered carefully, and never once cut his father off. It was wild to see him like that because around me he was this freaky, weed-smoking, cursing nigga who couldn’t keep his hands off me when he wanted me. But here, with his father across from him, he was disciplined, composed, almost a different man. Something about that turned me on more than I expected because it showed me another layer of him. He wasn’t just wild and reckless; he was raised well, and he carried that respect with pride.
I tried to focus on my plate, cutting into the salmon and taking small bites while sipping my wine, but I couldn’t ignorethe way Abeni’s eyes kept drifting toward me. Every so often, I would look up and catch her studying me, her expression unreadable. She didn’t frown, but she didn’t smile either. It was the kind of look that made me feel like she could see straight through me, and it made me shift in my chair even when I didn’t want to.
When lunch finally wound down and the servers began clearing plates, Abeni set her glass down and looked directly at me. Her voice was calm, but it left no room for me to misunderstand. “Kashmere, why don’t you come sit with me in the living room for a moment.”
It caught me off guard, but I managed to nod. I stood, smoothing my gown down with shaky hands, and followed her into the living room. The space was elegant, furnished with plush chairs and a velvet sofa that looked untouched. She sat gracefully on the edge of the sofa, crossing her legs at the ankle, and motioned for me to sit beside her. A server brought fresh glasses of wine, and for a moment the only sound in the room was the clink of glass against the table.
I sat stiff, holding my glass like it was a lifeline, until Abeni tilted her head toward me. Her voice was gentle but carried weight. “You’re a bold woman, I can see that. But at the table today you didn’t have many words. Why is that?”
I swallowed hard, embarrassed by how fast my nerves were showing. “I’m sorry,” I said honestly. “I was just nervous. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing or make a bad impression.”
Her lips curved slightly, but it wasn’t exactly a smile. “Don’t be sorry. Just be yourself. That is the only way you’ll ever truly be seen.”
Her words sat heavy, and I stared down at the rim of my glass, debating if I should open up or just nod and let the moment pass. But something about her presence made me want to be real. I lifted my eyes slowly. “Being myself is exactly whatfeels like the problem. Every time I let myself show up as me, it feels like that’s when things get messy.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Or perhaps you’re mistaking being yourself with being problematic. There’s a difference. Tell me, Kashmere, have you been problematic?”
My throat felt dry, and my palms were sweating. I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t. My voice was low when I admitted it. “Sometimes I feel like I might be pushing Pressure away. I go off on him a lot, and it’s not always fair. I don’t mean to, but it happens before I can even stop myself.”
Immediately, I wanted to take my words back because it hit me that I wasn’t just talking to anybody—I was talking to Pressure’s mother. She loved her son, and the last thing I needed was for her to picture me as some woman who only brought chaos into his life. What mother wants her son tied to somebody who can’t keep the peace?
Abeni leaned back, sipping her wine before responding. Her voice was calm but laced with wisdom. “It’s not a crime to feel strongly, but it is important to control how you express it. When you love someone, you don’t just listen to respond—you listen to understand. Approaching conflict with an open heart doesn’t mean you silence yourself, it means you value the connection enough to fight for peace instead of chaos. That’s the kind of daughter-in-law I want.”
Her words hit me in places I didn’t expect. Nobody had ever told me something like that, not in that way. My own mother would’ve just criticized me, made me feel like I was never enough, like I was the problem without giving me any way to fix it. Abeni’s words weren’t a dismissal, they were guidance.
She reached out and rested her hand lightly over mine, her eyes warm but sharp. “You seem like a wonderful young woman, Kashmere. But understand this—it takes more than beauty to captivate a man’s soul and become part of his legacy. If you wanta place in my son’s future, you’ll have to bring him peace as well as passion. Can you do that?”
I didn’t answer right away because the question wasn’t simple. It wasn’t about whether I loved Pressure, it was about whether I could grow into the kind of woman who could truly stand beside him. Finally, I nodded. “I want to.”
“Then start there,” she said simply, and lifted her glass like the conversation was complete.
I sipped my wine and let her words sink into me. For once, I didn’t feel criticized or dismissed. I felt like someone was showing me a different way to look at myself, like I wasn’t doomed to be this angry, misunderstood girl forever. Abeni was everything my mother wasn’t—graceful, nurturing and honest without being cruel.
When I finally left the living room and walked back toward the others, I carried myself differently. Her words had given me something to think about and hold onto. For the first time in a long time, I felt empowered.
Trill-Land, Jungle Estate
Idon’t know what the hell my mama said to Kashmere, but she walked back to the table looking lighter than she left, like somebody had set a weight down for her and told her she ain’t gotta carry it no more. Lunch was already done, so when she came back, it wasn’t to eat. It was just to sit with us and breathe for a second, the lil’ cool-down after everything. Toni was leaned back cracking soft jokes under her breath, Ka’mari was shrinkin’ into her chair like it was tryin’ to swallow her, and Pops was tappin’ a finger on the table like he’d already moved on to thinkin’ about the next ten plays. Ma came behind Kashmere all calm, kissed my cheek again, then gave me that look mamas give when they want a word in private.
“Let’s talk, son,” she said, simple, and that was that.
I told the women I would be right back and walked my parents down the hall into my office. Soon as the door clicked shut, I dropped in the chair behind my desk and kicked one ankle over my knee, “A’ight,” I said. “Tell me what y’all think.”
Ma crossed one leg over the other and took her time with her words. “Toni is a bright spirit,” she said, her voice smooth. “She’s warm, funny, and she knows how to make a room relax. I like her. But she’s not your forever.”
I nodded ‘cause deep down, I felt it too. Toni had this easy vibe I loved bein’ around. She could flip a mood from tense to playful with a smile and a story, but some part of me already knew she wasn’t the last page of my book.
Pops didn’t bother easin’ into it. “She’s ghetto,” he said, flat like a verdict.
I frowned. “C’mon, Pops. You ain’t gotta say it like that.”
“I gotta say it how it is,” he told me, his eyes steady on mine. “Fun is cool till the storm hit. When the storm hit, fun don’t keep a roof from leaking, and fun don’t keep a man focused. You building a legacy. You can’t build it off laughs.”
I didn’t fire back ’cause he wasn’t wrong, but I still didn’t like hearin’ it thrown that dry. Toni has heart, and I respected heart.
