Page 103 of When a Soul Cries

“No. No, Mama’s sorry.”

I kissed her cheek over and over while rocking her.

“I’m sorry, Lo. Mama ain’t mad at you,” I whispered, my voice cracking against the side of her face.

She grabbed the collar of my shirt with one tiny fist.

That almost did me in.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Not here.

Not again.

I’d cried when they locked the apartment.

I’d cried when I realized I couldn’t get Halo’s things.

I’d cried after losing my job.

I’d cried the first night at the motel while Halo slept beside me and somebody screamed outside our door.

I was tired of crying.

Tired of being scared.

Tired of waking up every morning and pretending I knew what came next.

“I’m trying, baby,” I whispered into Halo’s curls, rocking her against me like the movement might soothe both of us.

A tear slipped down my cheek anyway.

“I’m trying so fucking hard.”

“Soleia!” a familiar female voice shouted from somewhere across the parking lot.

My whole body froze.

Nobody in Crestmont called me that.

Slowly, I lifted my head.

A woman stood across the parking lot beside an older silver car.

My stomach dropped.

No.

For a second, I honestly thought stress had finally made me lose my mind.

Then she started walking toward me.

Aunt Trice.

My fingers tightened around Halo.

She looked older than I remembered.