Page 51 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

Chapter 15

“No One Coming” by Naiya Solé

Idon’t want to leave her,” Morgan said. “What if something important happens while I’m gone? What if they try to keep me? I’m her mom, I’m supposed to be by her side for everything.” Morgan’s words were spilling out of her like vomit. Her anxiety was causing a panic she couldn’t control.

“I got her, Mo,” Messiah said. “I know I left you to do this by yourself before, but you not doing this alone no more. I’m not good at a lot of this dad shit, but this is the one thing I know how to do, shorty. I know how to fight cancer. Handling these doctors and understanding what’s happening to our daughter is on me. I promise you, I can handle this part. I won’t make any decisions without you. They’ll have to do a biopsy before they can tell us anything. She’ll be asleep for that.”

“That’s surgery. She can’t have surgery without me being here,” Morgan said, panicked.

“Mo, trust me to be here for my daughter. It’s a small procedure. It’s quick, and she won’t feel any pain. I’ve been through this part. This part is easy. You do what you got to do so you can get back for the hard parts,” Messiah reassured.

“You know this part well,” Morgan whispered, realizing that he had been through all this before.

“Yeah, shorty, unfortunately, I do,” Messiah replied.

Messiah wasn’t afraid of many things. He had seen too much, survived the unthinkable. Resilience was a language in which he was fluent. He wore it like a second skin, but in the face of Yara’s sickness, he felt exposed, like he had been dropped in enemy territory, no vest, no gun. All he could do was wait for the ambush. It was terrifying. The quiet, creeping monster, living inside his child. It humbled him in a way nothing else ever could. His big, bad, bully of a daughter hadn’t laughed in days. He hadn’t seen her magnetic smile or stared into her interrogating eyes. All he had done was listen to the beep of these machines as she whimpered in discomfort. There was no relief to provide because she was too weak and too young to truly explain her symptoms. This wasn’t like a normal ER visit, where two parents impatiently waited for the extremely slow doctors to oversee and prescribe something, then send them home. This was life or death. This was serious, and they weren’t going home. Accepting this was tranquilizing. He almost felt numb. One of the nurses walked in, nodding at both Morgan and Messiah.

“Just checking her fluids,” the man announced.

Messiah hawked the man’s every movement, every beep of the monitor, and every shift in his baby’s breathing patterns. When she held her breath, he held his. Anxiety had Messiah in the ring, gloved up, and it was winning every round. Messiah was black and blue. Time became a human construct within these walls. It didn’t exist. It only moved when death came. Every other moment was an unending loop of the unknown. The way devastation and hope took their turns at center stage was an emotional rollercoaster. They both came in doses and interchanged with each new test result that was revealed. Good news seemed to be the smallest dose. It was measured and never guaranteed. Messiah knew what the doctors would find. He knew what was coming without them giving a formal announcement. He even knew the tone they would use to deliver their formal diagnosis. They’d use phrases like, “manage the cancer,” or “living with cancer.” It was never “cure” the cancer. There was no pill that could make this go away.

The nurse updated the chart and left them once again.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you went through this,” Morgan said. The softness in her voice reminded him of the very first time she had said his name. She was such a tender girl when she wasn’t trying to guard herself from him. “I hope you had enough love in the room. I wouldn’t want to face this without love.”

He saw her sadness. Such a beautiful fucking girl. The sincerity, good or bad, in situations he approved or disapproved, Morgan bled her heart all over everyone. It had always drawn his attention to her, even before she was his to know. In moments when she would be waging teenage war against Ethic, Messiah always felt her passion, her heart. Now she was a grown woman, a mother, and she hadn’t lost even a little bit of her fire. It burned him sometimes, but it still blazed. She never stopped using her heart, even though it had been broken. He admired her for that.

“In a perfect world, Ethic would have been there,” he admitted.

“Why don’t you ever need me?” she asked.

“Because I never want to leave you with the memory of watching anybody else you love die. It gets ugly. I didn’t want you to see this disease turn me into skin and bones. I wanted you there, and when I closed my eyes, that pretty face was waiting for me,” he mumbled. “I did regret how I left, though. The fight. The setup, betraying Ethic. I regret all those things.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

Silence deafened the room.

“Promise me,” Morgan whispered.

“I’ll promise you everything, shorty,” Messiah answered sincerely.

“Promise me I’ll make it back to her.” There was an ominous tone in her voice that revealed her deepest fears. There was a bit of doubt in her. What if she went down for the Fredericks’ murders? Nobody knew what the police had on her. They could be playing their hand small to set her up. What if they knew more than they were letting on? What if Morgan took the fall for it all? The thought of never being free to wrap her arms around her children again was paralyzing.

“Ethic’s got his plan. I trust him. He loves you. He’ll do everything he can to protect you,” Messiah reassured. Morgan nodded, sighing because she knew he was right. “BUT…” Messiah’s but put a Vise-Grip on her heart because she felt it too…the spirit of uncertainty was in the air. “If plans fail, I’m coming to get you, shorty. I’ma make sure Yolly’s good and I’ma make sure you’re good. A nigga ain’t perfect, but I’m coming behind you, every time, against anybody, police ain’t exempt. I need you to wipe those tears and handle business so you can hurry up and come back to us.”

“You know what I just realized?” Morgan asked, as she sniffled, wiping her nose and eyes with the back of her hand.

“What’s that?” Messiah asked.

“That I got a crazy baby daddy. I always wanted one of those,” Morgan said through shiny eyes, adding a little light to their bleak circumstance.

“Fucking right,” Messiah stated, releasing a shadow of a smile.

Messiah pulled Morgan in, and their hug felt momentous, like it could possibly be the last one they shared in this lifetime. Messiah had done a lot of things wrong, but one thing he had never done was leave her in the hands of danger.

“I’m ready,” Morgan sighed as she took a step back. She had been able to hold her tears until it was time to kiss her baby goodbye. “God, please.” It was all Morgan had left. She gripped Yara’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before resting her face against Yara’s cheek. “Mommy loves you so much.” Mo knew her baby couldn’t hear, but Yara could feel her touch, and she undoubtedly knew her scent.

Ethic was the silent overseer as he watched Morgan. He knew she was afraid. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t too. He had come before a court of law before, and it was easier to consider his own peril than to consider hers. Ethic always could and always would be able to handle any circumstance. Whether free or locked down, he would survive. He was a chameleon in that way and a leader everywhere. He could adapt. Morgan was more delicate. She played hard, but Ethic knew that the right amount of pressure would break Morgan. Incarceration would end her. He had seen it time and time before. Justine Atkins had suffered the same fate. It couldn’t become Morgan’s story; he wouldn’t let it.