Page 42 of Rebooked For Us
The calm I’d walked in with cracked.
“You don’t know shit about her, so watch your mouth. If you had bothered to get to know her, you’d know she never gave a fuck about any of it.”
He poured himself another finger, unhurried, like I hadn’t said anything at all.
“Cane, that’s what they all say.” He shrugged before continuing. “Let me tell you how this goes, son, so you can stop wasting energy grieving a girl who already made her peace with it. Your grandfather’s shares come to you. The Upland office comes to you. Your name on that building before you’re thirty-five. All of it runs through me until I decide it doesn’t.” The words lingered in the air at his heavy pause. “A girl like her was never part of that math. She knew it, you knew it. We all knew it.”
I sat there playing out the version of this that left this nigga lifeless and me in prison for life. Instead, I just nodded, and Ihated myself in real time for it. He was burying us, and I was too gutted to lift my hands.
“Bianca is taking over her father’s firm in Upland,” he went on, like he was reading the paper. “You’ll be in the same circles. You’ll be seen together. The right people will draw the right conclusions, and you won’t correct them. I’ll let you get settled first before we execute that.”
“I’m not doing that bullshit. Nah, I’m cool.”
“You’ll do exactly that, or you’ll learn how little you are without this family behind you.” Still no heat. That was the thing about my father. He never needed it. “I built something that outlives me. I’m not watching you throw it away because some girl convinced you you’re more than this name. You’re not. Nobody is. That’s the whole point.”
He picked his glass back up. The conversation was over because he’d decided it was.
“Go home. Get some sleep. You’ll see it more clearly when the time comes. Pussy is everywhere, son. Don’t throw it all away for one.”
“Aye, fuck you, Pops. If it was just about pussy you wouldn’t be on the shit you on. I’ll let you have this but wait until the tables turn.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said from behind me as I left, slamming the door behind me.
I let my feet hit the ground and pushed harder, wishing I could outrun the memory. But the more I thought about what she’d overheard, the harder I went. Shit, maybe she was right to end shit with me.
It wasn’t even the loss anymore. I’d grieved that. It was picturing her in that hallway, twenty-two and alone, hearing my father call her nothing, and deciding to carry it on her own so I wouldn’t have to choose. He’d done that to her. He’d put that ona girl, my girl, who’d already buried both her parents, and she let him, for me.
My lungs were on fire, but I didn’t slow down. When I broke into the dense forest, I let go of the scream I’d been holding in.
Birds shot up out of the trees all around me, scattering into the sky.
I thought about that day. She’d said a lot. Things meant to make me hate her, things I knew now she didn’t mean; every one of them meant to leave a mark. I’d let most of them go. But the last thing she asked, I’d carried it like scripture playing on repeat.
“Don’t come after me, Ducane. For once, let something go. Me go.”
So, I did. I honored it against everything in me that said to chase her down. The one time I should’ve ignored her, I gave her exactly what she asked for.
My watch buzzed against my wrist. A reminder I’d set the night before. Breakfast with Skye, one hour. I turned around and ran back the way I came. Back toward her. Now that I had her again, I couldn’t stand being anywhere she wasn’t. Even a morning run felt too long.
day four, june 27th
Ducane was gone when I woke up. He ran in the mornings, always had. I lay there for twenty minutes before I gave up on sleep and went to find breakfast. I couldn’t quite describe how I felt. My nervous system was both regulated and going haywire in anticipation of what was to come. But at the bottom of it all, I trusted Ducane to handle whatever needed handling.
I yawned and stretched before heading to the bathroom to start my morning. The coffee pot beeped as I walked in, and I smiled. I appreciated him setting it before he left.
Small things.
The villa kitchen was stocked like he had been planning this trip for months, which he probably had. I found bagels, cream cheese, thin-sliced ham, fruit, and eggs. I even found capers. I cracked my neck, put Teedra Moses’ Backstroke on low, movedaround in his t-shirt and slides that were three sizes too big, and started breakfast.
My phone rang before I cracked the first egg.
Fee.
“Airalynn is always running her damn mouth,” I said, sipping my coffee and watching her come onto the screen.
“Girl, I should’ve been the first damn call. I have been minding my business ever since, which you know does not come naturally to me, so you owe me.” A pause. “How are you feeling? What the hell, sis?”
That was Fee. Not what happened, not oh my God, just how you feeling. Checking my temperature before she said anything else.
