Page 38 of Color Me Broken
“We received a report that during one of your shifts, you were seen slipping medication into your pocket. We reviewed the footage and all the documentation, and as of now, you are not permitted on hospital grounds unless you are turning in your badge.”
A wedge of anger mixed with tears filled her throat. “What? Are you serious right now? I can explain. I…I didn’t?—”
“Save it. No need to explain,” her boss cut in, with the, I couldn't care less tone. “You’ll receive an official email by the end of the day.”
The line went dead. Tasha stared at the phone, wondering what the hell just happened.
Her breath shook.
Her hands trembled as she put her phone back on the nightstand. She let out a loud gasp as her eyes searched the doorway. With everything she had going on, Emerald City wanted to pick today of all days to “relieve her of her duties”.Fuck them, Tasha thought to herself.
From downstairs, she could hear Juelz moving around. Drawers opening. Cabinets shutting. Then his voice floated up the staircase, sounding off-key, all loud and wrong.
“Shawty, you look so fine…
Shawty, if you were mine…”he was stirring a pot of mashed potatoes, moving his body in a circular motion.
“…I swear to God I would make it right.”
She shook her head, carefully easing out of the bed, on her way down the stairs as if she had just learned to walk, trying to see what he was doing. When she got closer to the kitchen, her heart smiled despite the news she had just received. She loved watching Juelz in the kitchen. Unlike herself, Juelz was a great cook and loved to cook for her. Her eyes were glossing over because seeing him like this reminded her of the first time she tried to cook for him.
The morning light slid through the blinds, soft and gold, cutting across the bedroom like a slow fire. Juelz was still half asleep when the smell hit him, something warm and smoky, but not in a good way, more like every bit of wrong.
He cracked one eye open, nose twitching. “The hell…I know this girl ain’t.”
From the kitchen came a clatter, then Tasha’s voice singing off-key to Keyshia Cole.
“First of all, let me say. You can’t accuse me of all the things you know that you are guilty of…”
He sat up, rubbing his face. “Lord, if you can hear me, please my G. Please don’t let her burn my damn house down.”
He threw on a muscle shirt, placed his dreads into a man bun, and walked down the hall. The smell got stronger with every step: burnt butter, half-cooked something, and more… smoke. Tasha couldn’t cook to save her life, and here she was in the kitchen as if she belonged there.
She stood at the stove, bonnet on, big T-shirt hanging off one shoulder, grits bubbling over like they were tryna escape. She was smiling, though, all proud.
“Morning, Jue,” she said, turning with a wooden spoon in her hand. “I was gon’ bring you breakfast in bed. Like they do on TV... but you spoiled it.”
Juelz leaned on the doorframe, eyes scanning the stove like he was trying to make sure it was intact. “Tasha… wha—what you doin’, for real?”
She rolled her eyes, pretending to be offended. “What it look like I’m doin’? Cookin’ for my man. My man, my man.”
He stepped closer, peering into the pot. “That ‘posed to be grits, my baby?”
She tilted her head, her eyes never leaving his. “Yeah… Why?”
“‘Cause it look like one big damn rice cake. That shit is overly done.” He poked at it with the spoon and squinted. “Nah, nah, hell nah, I’m not eatin’ that. Put that shit in the trash, girl.”
Tasha shoved him as she put a hand on her hip. “You ungrateful bastard. I woke up early and everythin’—”
“And…I appreciate the effort,” he said, grinning, cutting her off, “but this right here might send a nigga to the ER. No cap.”
She grabbed a towel and swatted at him, laughing. “Shut up, Jue! You always talkin’ shit witcha piss colored ass.”
“I’m just bein’ honest. These eggs look scared too, like they know they wasn’t supposed to be born.”
“Boy, whatever. I’m still learnin’.”
“Learn faster, ‘cause I’m too fine to die over a scrambled mistake.”
