Page 106 of The Last Man on Earth
I keep smelling him, too. And every time his little hands grab my face, I break into a smile. A real one. Seeing my son cracked open something in me that’s been locked up tight since I went down in that plane.
“Did you miss your Daddy?” I ask him.
“Yeah.” He wraps his little arms around my neck. “Daddy. I luh woo Daddy.”
“I love you too, little man.” I squeeze him so tight, I worry I’m gonna break him.
He wasn’t talking when I left. He’d said da da before, but now, my little man is using sentences. I feel like I missed half his life. The boy ain’t even in diapers no more.
I hug him again, squeezing my eyes closed.
“So…”
I open my eyes and look at Shemari.
“How are you?” she asks.
I take a breath and answer as honestly as I can.
“I don’t even know.” My eyes rake over her. “You changed your hair.”
She flips her long burgundy sew-in over her shoulders.
“You look good,” I say, because she does. Mari always been fine as fuck. She’s a little thinner, though. I wonder if that’s because of me. Because of worry.
My Aunt Avery walks in from the bedroom with her phone in her hand. “James said the hotel restaurant is closed. He wants to know if we want pizza. There’s a place down the street.”
“Why y'all ain’t just have one of my people get some food?”
Avery makes a face. “All your people are still in Atlanta.”
“Bash?” She’s my manager. “Tyrell?” My assistant.
Avery nods. “It didn’t make sense for them all to come when we’re going right back there tomorrow.”
I nod. “Pizza’s fine. Doyouwant pizza?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”
My head drops at that. I shouldn’t be hungry, either. They lost their son, and my sister Vanessa, who’s still in the bathroom, lost her son. Nobody should have an appetite.
But I do.
Fuck. Maybe I trained myself to keep eating in the midst of death and depression. I don’t know.
Avery puts the phone back to her face. “James? Yeah. Just get three of ‘em and come on back.”
I go to reach into my back pocket for my wallet. It’s a habit whenever I’m around my family. Or anybody, really.
“Don’t worry about it,” Avery says.
She sighs and leans her weight against the wall. “The embassy called earlier.”
“About what?”
“The bodies. They recovered them. What was left of ‘em,” she adds sadly. “They’re doing identification and autopsies tomorrow before we can get them home.”
“I’ll pay for it if need be. Just let Tyrell know.”
