“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” She turned in her chair and looked me up and down.
“Nothing for you to worry about, and nothing that I want to think about.” I told her with a heavy sigh. “Dancing takes my mind off things. So, get up. Did you come up with anything?”
“I got lost down the rabbit hole of R&B in the 90s on YouTube. A lot of the videos inspired me. I kind of want to do something like the New Jack swing stuff. Can we try that, maybe incorporate some new stuff with it?” she queried, sheepish.
Sugar and spice. That’s what she was. One minute she was sweet as candy, and the next minute an acquired taste. Some people would probably say the same thing about me.
“Girl, what you know about New Jack Swing?” I teased but searched for some Guy and all the other hits that reminded me of that era on my playlist.
For a few hours, we danced until she got a three-minute routine down. She was in love with the steps, and before long she caught on and was able to do them without me. Dancing with Ivy even left me in free fall. Being around her reminded me of the simple shit in life. She was a natural when it came to just about anything, and I actually felt a little pride that she had picked up so fast on the counts. By the time we were done, I was a sweaty mess. She was on a high, and it was familiar to me. The big, bright beam that spread across her lips was contagious as she caught her breath.
“A’ight ladybug, you did good.” I pat her on the back, and she grinned widely back at me.
“Really?” she asked, excited.
“Yes. You got this, and don’t let anyone tell you different. Go shower and get ready for dinner and bed.” I nudged her playfully and she went over to the desk to gather her things.
With her backpack slung over her shoulder and books in hand, she rushed over to the door. Just before she stepped into the hall she faced me. For the first time, she didn’t look like a troubled little woman with the weight of the world burdening her shoulders. Now she was the twelve-year-old she was supposed to be. It was all behind the innocence in the sparkle she carried in her almond brown irises.
“Thanks, Harbor.” She went rushing out, nearly running over her father as he appeared in the doorway.
Frequency
At first when I got home, I didn’t alert anyone. Celine wasn’t around, but I knew that Harbor and Ivy were. Instead, I went to my office to get some work done, turning on the monitor in Harbor’s room to keep an eye on her with my daughter. I was curious to see how she interacted with her when she thought no one was home. I tapped in on the middle of a heavy conversation and couldn’t pull myself away from it if I tried.
My suspicions of my daughter feeling neglected were confirmed, and the memory of her mother was somehow fading. I had to do something about that. Ivy was my world, and the last thing I wanted was for her to feel slighted or jaded in any way. I loved her. Harbor was able to deal with and talk to her in a way that nobody else seemed to be able to, not Kara, and not even Celine. As much as Ivy tried to resist the pull, she was drawn to Harbor. I guess we had that in common.
When Harbor spoke to Ivy, it was always with encouragement or discernment. She never tried to taint my child, and I admired her for that. Every time I searched for a flaw with this girl, I came up short. To hear how inferior Harbor felt against Ivana, shit was an eye opener. It wasn’t even what she said, because she had spoken everything right to Ivy, but it was how she sounded when she told her that another woman didn’t stand a chance against her mother’s memory. That was the truth serum there. Harbor was dismal when she spoke, and that shit tugged at me. They had no idea I was watching them, and after a few hours I decided to make my presence known as Ivy got ready to go and Celine pulled into the driveway.
“Didn’t realize you were back,” Harbor muttered, eyes on the ground.
There was distance between us, despite our close proximity.
“Deviance told me you might not be feeling well. Everything okay?” I asked, concerned.
Her melancholy glance told me no. She wiped her face with a small towel since she was still perspiring from dancing.
“Fine,” she answered, shrugging. “He should mind his business. This big ass dude walking around gossiping like a female.” She muttered to herself.
“What happened? With your father.” I pressed, noticing that she seemed to be easily irritated.
“Nothing happened. He just showed me who he really was. A lot of that going around lately.” She tossed the towel onto the bed and put her hands on her waist.
Our eyes locked and she didn’t try to deflect or look away.
“So, did you do it? Did you kill her? Or you just… guilty by association,” she asked calmly, a little too fucking calm for the nature of the question.
“I was young. A fucking kid when I got pulled into this life… this world. Darkness.” I kept my tone even. “My father, Kutlass, he’s the man behind the curtain. Him and Arrow. Two calculated, cold, and ruthless mothafuckas. I didn’t kill your mother. I knew about the order though, and I also knew that it was called off. I didn’t know who you were back then, and none of it even registered when we first met. Arrow decided that they would go through with it anyway. He wanted to keep Harold in his pocket, just in case. What better way than to hold that kill over his head? Harold was guilty, but he was in the moment. He was angry and hurt by your mother’s actions outside of their marriage. Shit happens when tempers flare and someone feels scorned.”
“Sounds like you know something about it.” She sighed.
“Harbor—”
“I’m… good.” She insisted, resisting my attempt to comfort her.
Her dejected gaze told me otherwise. She was saving face, but she didn’t have to for me.
“I can’t fall apart because I found out the kind of man my daddy truly is. I should have known. It’s time to leave all that shit behind anyway and focus on the future. I passed my exam. I am officially a licensed real estate agent for the state of Virginia.” She announced proudly. “You wanted to make money, let’s do that. That I can do something with.”
