A sudden feeling of unease settled over me.
“You talkin’ about the surrogate?”
She nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
Her expression took on a somber depth.
“That girl is carrying more than what was given to her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I pressed, demanding clarity.
Ma O studied me for a long, drawn-out moment, before answering, “Not everybody around you is coming empty-handed. Some folks bring baggage… others bring hunger.”
She tapped the edge of the bowl once.
“And some carry blood that already belonged to you before they even set foot through your door.”
My brows furrowed deeper. “The hell does that mean?”
Instead of responding directly to that question, Ma O picked up a small notepad nearby and began scribbling something in a hurried scrawl, then slid the paper across the table toward me.
"If you want answers, go to that place Saturday… seven o’clock sharp.”
As I read the words, the frown etched deeper onto my face. “Emergency room on Claiborne? What the hell am I supposed to find at a hospital?”
A sly, knowing smile crossed her lips. “Not what…who,” she corrected, softly.
I stared at her, confusion still clouding my thoughts.
“Everything gon’ make sense that day. Don’t go too early and definitely don’t be late. Just be where I told you,” she urged.
“So that’s it? You can’t tell me nothing else?” Desperation laced my voice, wanting more than vague warnings.
Ma O shook her head slowly, her expression serious. “If I reveal too much, your pride gon’ start interfering with your ears.” She pointed a finger in my direction. “And men like you? Y’all only hear what doesn’t threaten your ego. Sometimes God doesn’t show people the entire picture until they’re standing directly in front of it because if he did, half of y’all would runfrom your destiny before it ever had the chance to introduce itself.”
The candles flickered again, as if agreeing with her.
I exhaled hard and then stuffed the folded paper into my pocket.
“Now go home,” she muttered, her voice suddenly quieter. “And keep your gun close.”
“You sensing danger?”
Ma O glanced toward the flame of a nearby candle, seeming to look beyond the flicker and into something unfathomable.
“I’m sensing movement,” she replied cryptically. “And movement usually means either blessings… or blood.”
Of course, she would answer me in riddles, leaving me with more questions than I arrived with.
I stood slowly, leaned down, and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek.
“Appreciate you, Ma O,” I said, my voice a confusing blend of gratitude and dread.
“Anytime, baby. Don’t be a stranger.”
As I moved toward the door, her voice flowed softly behind me.
“Merge… you always think you’re the hunter…”
