Page 114 of 4 Corinthians

The smell of dirt, water, and the sweetness of flowers filled my lungs. No matter how many times I walked in here, it always amazed me that my sister could grow and care for plants the way that she did. Psalms’ green thumb was a talent that superseded anything anyone could have taught her. It was instinctual and done from a place of love.

“Hey,” she said, coming from the back. As always, she wore her green smock with her company logo on the front. I looked down at her feet and shook my head. No matter how many times we fussed at her, she never wore shoes. She said she liked the feel of dirt on her feet. “What are you doing here?”

I looked up to see her watching me, her eyes cautious yet questioning. Psalms and I never danced around a situation before. This was new for us. Sighing, I rounded the counter, pulled out two chairs, sat in one, and pointed to the other. My sister, my very headstrong sister, looked at the chair, then at me. For the first time in a long time, I saw her as the little girl who feared everything, and my eyes watered. She may have been grown, owned her own home, and run a successful business, but she would always be Bug, my little sister, who needed me.

“Sit down,” I said, pointing to the chair again. “Please.” Once she was situated, I waited. Psalms always gave me time to process what I was feeling, and I was going to do the same for her. “Tell me how you feel when you’re ready. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is. You can either call or show up, and I will listen.”

“Even if you don’t like what I have to say?” she asked.

I didn’t have to like what she had to say, but I was going to listen because her opinion mattered. I told her that, and her shoulders dropped like she was no longer carrying a burden.

We turned and looked when the chimes above her door started. The door opened, and Wednesday stood there, a mug on his face and a bag of flowers in his hand.

“Psalms.” He held up the bag and shook his head. “This isn’t what we agreed on.”

“It is,” she replied with a soft laugh as she shook her head.

“It’s not,” Wednesday insisted. “We said blues and whites.” He pulled a flower from the bag. “This is neither.”

“How do you know? You can't even see color?” she replied.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I took it out to see a text from Uri.

Uri: You want to have lunch?

Me: Yes.

Uri: I’m on my way to get you.

Me: I’m at Psalms shop.

Uri: My office isn’t far from her shop. I can come get you.

Me: I drove. I can meet you at your office.

Me: If that’s okay.

*Uri shared his location*

Me: I’m on my way.

I stood, picked up my purse, and dropped my phone into it. Psalms and Wednesday were still going back and forth. I patted her on the shoulder as I passed her. She nodded in acknowledgment, then crossed her arms and glared at Wednesday.

“Hold on, Corinthians,” Wednesday said when I got to the door. I turned to look at him. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, shaking my head.

Wednesday ignored my protest and approached me. He opened the door, then turned to look at Psalms. “Don’t think this conversation is over. When I come back, we will talk. And if you lock this muthafucka, I’ll smash that damn window.” He pointed to her floor-to-ceiling window in front of her shop.

“You’ll replace it just like you did the last time,” Psalms replied.

We walked out of the building, and we were barely away from the door when we heard the locks engage. I looked through the window to see Psalms standing at the counter, her phone in her hand and a smile on her face. Wednesday chuckled, then took his phone from his pocket, swiped it, then put it to his ear.

“Yeah, it's me. I’m about to smash this fuckin’ window again. You might as well start heading this way,” he said. He looked over at me and shrugged. “Nah, I’m going to pay for it just like last time.” He stopped talking and nodded. “Yeah. Appreciate it.” He hung up and put his phone in his pocket. “You not gonna ask me what’s that about?”

We got to my car, and I put my finger over the sensor to unlock the doors. “Nope,” I answered him as I opened the door. “You’re grown. You know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“You know most big sisters would be ready to burn down the city about a nigga threatening to smash in her sister's business windows,” he laughed.