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Shakira
We wereon the brink of a crisis.
After swearing up and down that she wasn’t interested in being with Amari beyond the Summer,and then following through on that when she’d broken things off with him right before Fall, Gianna was being forced to eat her words, the sight of her ex-fling and his new boo looking fresh off a Winter baecation with their glowing skin and relaxed smiles as they breezed past us in the baggage claim area early on a Monday morning making my girl scowl so hard that I was worried her face might get stuck that way. And after Amari had the nerve to look in our direction and offer a nonchalant nod to say what’s up to her, I thought for sure all hell was going to break loose, putting me inrealcrisis preventionmode as I started to pull Gianna towards the airport’s exit by her arm until she stopped me insisting, “Nah, it’s cool, Kiki. I’m not even trippin’.”
That’s what she claimed in the moment. And then she smiled about it like shit was sweet, leading us all to believe that maybe she was really over him. But when I received a notification about a group Facetime call only a few minutes after our rideshare driver had dropped Gianna off at her apartment, something told me the actual truth was getting ready to come out, making it less of a surprise when I joined the conversation and discovered that Gianna was already in the middle of her rant about Amari not being shit.
“That nigga was literally tryna come over to my crib like two weeks ago, and now he’s taking trips with other bitches?!”
“Maybe they just found a really good deal on flights and decided to go somewhere as friends,” Penelope suggested with a strained look that told me she already knew her attempt at trying to see the situation through rose-colored glasses wasn’t it. And even if Gianna kind of wanted to believe that what Penny had said was a possibility, Zara wasn’t far behind to balance things out when she added, “Or maybe he justfinallymoved the hell on like you wanted him to.”
“Who said I wanted him to move on?” Gianna asked with a frown. And when all three of us responded with confused expressions, that forced her to explain, “I mean, I know that probably sounds crazy,and maybe even a little toxic, especially consideringI’mthe one who ended things between us,but…”
“For whatever reason, you still expected him to be sitting around, twiddling his dick, waiting on the day you decided to change your mind instead of moving on like any normal person would,” Zara finished for her, the obvious sarcasm in her tone making Gianna whine, “Bitch, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” Zara chuckled. “But come on now, Gianna. It’s literally been months since you nixed your lil’ Summer situationship with Amari. Exactly how long was the man supposed to wait before he jumped back into the dating pool?”
“Zara’s right, Gi,” I finally chimed in. “Even if he did try to link up with you recently, you can’t really be mad at him for being out with someone new after all this time.”
“I guess y’all are making points or whatever,” Gianna admitted with a subtle eye roll. “And maybe this shit wouldn’t be bothering me so much if Amari and my pussy hadn’t remained such great friends after the split.”
According to the surprised looks on everyone’s faces, Amari and Gianna still being involved in that way was news to all of us, Zara being the first to respond, “Wowww. Meet his mama meat strikes again,” while I immediately followed up, “Wait. So y’all two have still been fuckin’ this entire time?”
Without looking directly at the screen, Gianna answered, “Not on a consistent basis,but…”
“Enough for you to be in your feelings over seeing him with someone else.”
The somber look on Gianna’s face once she nodded to agree with Zara’s conclusion legit had me feeling sad for my friend since it was obvious the run-in with Amari and his new chick really had her down. But just as I was getting ready to offer her my love and support in the form of a good meal and a comfort show binge, I felt the car come to a slow stop and then heard it be put in park, the fact that we were already in my driveway catching me by surprise as I muttered,“Oh shit,”before telling my friends, “Hey, let me call y’all back when I get in the house.”
By the time I finally got off the phone and out of the backseat, my suitcase was already waiting for me on the pavement thanks to the driver who I was sure to give a five-star rating the second I made it to my porch. But when I moved to type in the code that would unlock the front door, my light touch against the keypad was enough for it to open without me even pressing all of the numbers, the fact that my door was already slightly ajar causing a wave of panic to rush over me once I considered the top reason why that could be.
Did somebody break into my house while I was in Miami?
Is somebody in my house right now?
Oh my God, what if somebody is really in my house?!
Just when it crossed my mind to call the police -and then to not call the police because they’d probably come shoot me instead of the damn intruder- I heard a grumbled voice whisper, “Kiki? Kiki, is that you?” And it wasn’t just any voice, but one with the utmost familiarity, the sound of it and the strained coughs that followed sending me into a frenzy as I busted through the front door and found my dad curled up in the entryway with his face covered in blood and one of his eyes damn near swollen shut.
Instantly, I inhaled a sharp gasp as I left my suitcase near the door so that I could rush to be at his side, dropping down onto my knees where I cupped his face and asked, “Daddy, what happened?! Who did this to you?!” But when he just started coughing again in response, the little trickle of blood that came out with it had me less concerned about who was involved and more concerned about his current condition when I told him, “We need to get you to the hospitalnow.”
“No,” he grumbled. “We can’t. They’ll have too many questions.”
“But Daddy, you’re…”
“Kiki, I said no,” he interrupted, grunting as he finally maneuvered himself into a seated position. And with his back now pressed against the wall for support, he swiped at the fresh blood coming from the corner of his mouth with his fingertips before suggesting, “All I need right now is a cold washcloth… and some ice.”
“A cold washcloth and some ice?!” I repeated hysterically. “Daddy, you could have internal injuries, something could be broken, something could be…”
“Kiki, stop it! Right now!” he bellowed, the sound of his loud, grumbly voice making me jump and leaving me shaking as I stared at my father with fear in my eyes.
But it wasn’t because I was afraid of him.
It was the situation,seeing him this way and not knowing the reasons behind it, that had me terrified. And I could only assume it was because of how obviously frightened I was that my father chose to take a nicer tone with me once he said, “Cold washcloth and ice. Please, Kiki.”
Nodding, I stood up and headed straight for the kitchen to retrieve the two things my father had asked for, along with a bottle of water. But when I returned to the entryway to hand him all of his supplies, I noticed there was a little note on the floor next to where he was previously laid out, the sight of it making me frown as I picked it up and read,“Net 15, or next time will be a lot worse.”
The note wasn’t signed with a name or even an initial.
