Page 52 of The Wright Man

My throat tightened.

Last time I'd been in this room, it hadn't been like this.

I wasn't the one seeking her out... She was the one who found me.

* * *

Maleek

When They Were 16…

My mother was dying.

They said it gently, the way people do when the truth is sharp enough to draw blood.

Stage four. Late-stage. Nothing they could do now but manage the time.

And somehow, she made that sound like a blessing. Called it her "Year of Yes." Said we were going to squeeze joy out of every moment. Take trips. Watch sunsets. Eat dessert first.

She smiled when she said it. Her voice didn't shake. She held Kareem's hand and looked Tina in the eye. She kissed Bella's cheek and told us she wasn't afraid.

It was the bravest I had ever seen her. And I hated every second of it.

Not because of them. Not even because of her. But because of what it meant. That we were talking about goodbye like it was something we could pencil into the calendar between cookouts and game nights.

They didn't want her to see their pain. Nobody wanted to make it harder for her. So they smiled through tears and clung to hope and pretended planning for death was just another way of loving her.

But I couldn't pretend.

So I ran.

I didn't go far. Just upstairs. Just away. Just somewhere I could fall apart without witnesses.

Angelica's room was empty when I got there. I didn't even think. I just pushed the door open and went in.

It smelled like her—soft and sweet, like honey and shea butter and citrus. Safe. Familiar. Like every year of my life that made sense.

I dropped onto her bed and curled onto my side like I was a damn kid again. Pressed my face into her pillow and let my fists clench around the blanket.

And for a while, I just breathed. Not crying. Not yelling. Not moving.

I didn't want her last year. I wanted more years. All of them. I wanted to take time back and lock it in a room where cancer couldn't find it. I wanted my mama.

The door creaked open, and I didn't lift my head.

But I felt her before she spoke. That gentle weight on the bed, the warmth of her body curling behind mine.

"Hey 'Leek."

I didn't move. Couldn't speak. She didn't mind.

Angelica laid down behind me, warm and small and real. She didn't say anything else at first. Just wrapped her arm around my middle and rested her cheek between my shoulder blades.

And for a long time, we stayed like that. Breathing. Not talking. Existing in the same sadness.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper, cracking like mine hadn't been allowed to.

"I... I didn't mean to cry in front of her. I was doing good until she said she had to teach me how to do my own hair now. Said she didn't want me out here raggedy after she was gone."