Page 133 of Taming Jett
“Told you.”
We fell into the apartment the way we’d always fallen into spaces. Sierra photographing the light from the window, Calliope reorganizing my record collection and complaining about my Carly Rae Jepsen-to-Beyoncé ratio in volumes I could hear from the kitchen.
“Jett. JETT. Where’s Robyn? Tell me you have Robyn.”
“Heartbreak corner on the bottom shelf. Next to Adele."
“This is a terrible filing system.”
“Works for me.”
“Then why am I LOOKING AT TWO COPIES OF DANGEROUSLY IN LOVE in theheartbreak corner?”
“Because some of us are loyal, and Beyoncé works in every section.”
Raven snorted from the floor. She had her cards spread by the window, laying a slow cross in the parallelogram of gold the afternoon sun cut across the rug. Checking the bones, she called it. A reading on the apartment itself.
Ellis carried the focaccia past her without disturbing the cards. He’d learned. Three months in, and he’d already absorbed the unspoken etiquette of The Coven. Calliope chose the music. Sierra chose the light. Raven chose what we weren’t saying.
I stood in the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room and let the apartment fill up around me.
This had not been mine a year ago. A year ago, I was in a one-bedroom in Bushwick with too many takeout cartons and an empty windowsill. Now it was a two-bedroom in Clinton Hill. A man across my chest at night. A jar of Mom’s cooking in the freezer she’d dropped off last Sunday without ceremony because Ellis was running low. Jack Jr. on the windowsill, healthy in a way I hadn’t earned but Ellis trusted me with anyway.
All our friends moved through the rooms the way they always did. Calliope in motion. Sierra observing. Raven still as a stone in the current. Three women who’d met me at sixteen, when I didn’t yet know how to take up space.
It started with three girls who saw me when I was still learning how to be seen.
I’d said that, once. A long time ago, before any of this.
It had grown since then.
Ellis crossed the kitchen to me. Bumped his shoulder against mine. Stood with me and let the room happen around us.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t ask me to elaborate. He let me take the time.
“I used to count three seconds.” I said it quiet. Not for the room. “Threeseconds, and then I’d redirect. Bail on anything good before it could leave me first.”
“And now?”
“Now I just stayed.”
He took my hand. Pressed it palm-flat against my ribs through the thin cotton of my shirt.
“I know.”
I leaned my forehead against his shoulder. Calliope was still arguing with my record collection. Raven shuffled the deck. Sierra had her phone up, capturing the way the late afternoon light fell across all of us at once.
I was still here.
Still learning what Libre meant.
Whole. Unafraid.
Choosing to stay.
