She stared at me for a moment, her hands folded in her lap before she finally spoke.
“I know.”
I let out a dry laugh and shook my head.
“Nawl, you don’t.”
Her eyebrows pulled together.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means everybody keeps telling me they understand, but they don’t.”
I leaned forward and rested my forearms on my knees.
“That nigga shot me, Sianni.”
The room went quiet.
“I know.”
“He could’ve killed me.”
My voice was calm, but the grip I had on the bottle in my hand said otherwise.
“He could’ve killed me over some bullshit.”
I looked at her.
“And the crazy part? I keep thinking about all the shit that would’ve happened if he did.”
“Kyrie…”
“I’m serious, Sianni.”
I laughed again, but there wasn’t anything funny about it.
“I keep thinking about you coming home and finding me laid out there if that nigga would’ve stayed, or worse, if he would’ve done something to you too.”
The look on her face softened instantly.
“Ever since then, I ain’t been looking at nothing the same.”
She didn’t say anything. She just listened.
“I know people think I’m doing too much. I know you think I’m paranoid and overprotective.”
I shrugged.
“Maybe I am.”
A small smile touched her lips.
“Maybe?”
“Aight, I am.”
That earned a soft laugh out of her. But mine faded almost as quickly as it came.
