Page 15 of Lily In The Valley
He caught a runaway tear with his thumb. “Shit, it’s gonna hurt like hell. But you’ll be alright. Trust me?”
“Why should I do that?” I laughed between tears.
“Because you my girl. And I promise I gon’ always make sure you good.” He gave me one more squeeze, lifted my hands to his lips, and kissed the backs. “Let me go before my aunt come beat my ass. I’ll send you a message. Respond.”
“That doesn’t sound like a question.”
He laughed as he jogged back. “It’s not.” And with that, he ran back to his aunt’s house, leaving me standing in the blazing sun.
Chapter 5
Khalil
Morning light seepedthrough Kelly’s blinds like it had the nerve to interrupt her peaceful slumber. Even still, she didn’t stir. I slid from under her. We’d stayed in the same position all night her face on my chest, me holding her tight, not wanting to let go. Making my way to the door, I looked back at the sleeping beauty again. She was dead to the world, in desperate need of rest.
Becoming a doctor had her mind in overdrive since she’d started medical school. Even though she didn’t say it aloud, I knew she was worried about her placement for her fellowship. On one hand, she wanted that placement in either DC, Boston, or San Francisco. On the other, she knew she’d escape one of her father’s guilt trips if she were placed at Texas Children’s here in the city. It was why she’d made that her first choice.
For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why her father insisted on keeping her and her mother under the umbrella of his ego. Did he not see the shadow he casted over the women in his life kept them from blooming? If you asked me, as much as Kenneth Reid bragged and boasted about his life, he was fool’sgold. I saw it. Kelly saw it. And I guess her mother, Charisse, was coming around to it as well.
Stepping into Kelly’s guest bathroom downstairs, I turned on the shower, then grabbed a change of clothes from the drawer I’d claimed as my own after a few months of being in Houston. Begrudgingly, I washed the remnants of her off my body. Once fresh, I entered her kitchen, opening a window to let in the fresh morning breeze. The soft hum of children riding bikes with their parents and cars passing in the street cracked through the open space, mixing with the low sizzle of bacon cooking.
I stood at the stove, shirtless, flipping the pieces of bacon, concentrating to get them just right. I’d sautéed bell peppers, onions, and mushrooms for the omelets we’d share for breakfast. I thought about whipping up a batch of French toast, but that would be too much. She’d get skittish, regress back inside her mind. No, I only needed to do enough.
Just enough.
It wasn’t lost on me the naturalness I felt being in her kitchen. How I knew which cabinet held the garlic powder and black pepper. That I knew her favorite coffee mug stayed tucked away in the dishwasher and never in the cabinet that housed her other glassware. I knew her better than she knew herself. Knew she liked sleeping cuddled up in a ball, burrowed under the sheets and comforter, no matter how hot it got. Knew to keep her fridge stocked and pantry full, or else she’d order take-out every night, then complain about it all going to her ass. I never complained about that. Knew the more hype she was on the outside, the bigger the inner turmoil she fought to keep to herself.
I knew she’d wake up being more casual than necessary. She’d walk into the kitchen, her head held high, ready to throw some witty remark about me still being here, right before sitting down to eat the meal I’d prepared. Say whatever she needed toassert her dominance again, even though she’d melted under my touch, shuddered each time my lips touched the innermost of her thighs, exhaled and cried each time I brought her to sweet release.
My phone buzzed on the counter, the screen lighting up with a name I hadn’t seen in a few days.
“What’s good, Pops?”
“Hey, son. Ain’t talked to you since Zay’s engagement party.” His voice was heavy with a mixture of concern and unspoken judgment that Black fathers had mastered. “I know I’m probably interrupting your morning, but I wanted to check-in.”
I whipped the eggs in the glass bowl with one hand, phone pressed between my shoulder and ear. “I’m good. Just cooking?”
“Oh yeah,” he replied, pausing on the other end. “For you and who else?”
I chuckled low, sprinkling a few pinches of salt into the eggs then pouring them into the pan. “What you want, Pops?”
“I talked to your aunt the other day. Josie told her you still running behind that girl…Ms. Sonya granddaughter.”
I blinked. Why parents felt the need to discuss your life with everyone except you was lost on me. I knew it’d be a matter of time before he came questioning me and Kelly’s friendship. He’d done it when he caught the look on my face back when I was a teenager. When I brought Kelly to dinner with me when he’d visited back in college. And again, when I decided to move to Houston for good, following Zay.
“She got a name, Pops,” I said. “It’s Kelly, and you know we go way back.”
He exhaled sharply, like he already knew where this was going. “Listen, you too old for lectures–”
“You say that right before starting a lecture.” I smirked, flipping the eggs in the pan.
“I’m just trying to tell you to be careful. She got the same look in her eyes as your mama. You liable to get burned. Your mama done caused you enough hurt for one lifetime. Ain’t no use adding on to it.”
That made my jaw tighten. I glanced toward the hallway, listening for movement. She hadn’t stirred yet.
“This ain’t the same thing, Pops. You and I both know Mama was on that stuff bad. The only thing anyone could say Kelly’s addicted to is working.”
“Fix it up however you want. Addictions may be different, but the root cause is the same.”
